The universe decided my fate without consulting with me first

Have you ever seen one of those studies that claims human beings spend approximately six months of their lives waiting in line for things?

Or that the average person spends the equivalent of three days on hold with automated customer service?

Interesting pieces of trivia to learn. And I don’t doubt the trustworthiness of the data. I’m sure competent scientists conducted the research for good reason.

But the real question nobody’s asking is:

How does our perception of and relationship to time change our experience of it? Isn’t it possible that the whole concept of waiting is relative?

Consider the phase wasting time, which means expending your minutes carelessly and extravagantly and with no purpose. That’s a choice. Life might have forced you into some circumstance that was less than ideal, but if you felt helplessly stuck to do nothing but count the cracks in the ceiling, that’s on you.

Like the tired, angry traveler at the airport who’s pacing around the baggage carousel like a caged lion. Muttering to himself, this is pitiful, what the hell’s taking so long? I’ve been on a plane for six hours and now they’re making me wait another forty minutes for my luggage? Such bullshit.

That person, in their antagonistic relationship with the universe, will undoubtedly return home and complain to at least one other human about how the airline wasted their time.

Are you that person, or are you someone who takes control of their life and invests rather than wastes time?

Personally, I don’t like being on planes and standing in lines and sitting in traffic any more than the net person.

But when the universe decides my fate without consulting with me first, that doesn’t mean I’m going to bemoan reality for wasting my time. I’m going to take matters into my own hands. The question I’ve gotten into the habit of asking is, how is this an opportunity for me to do more of my favorite things?

Because when we frame our experience in that way, it’s not waiting in line, it’s doing something that brings you join and meaning. Like reading a good book. Or playing with your kids. Or doing a meditation. Or having a meaningful conversation with someone you love.

People who have an abundant relationship with the universe don’t view any of their experiences as wasteful. They’re simply opportunities.

My first career was traveling around the world giving motivational speeches and doing corporate trainings. I was on the road virtually every week. And one of the realizations I had about five years into it was, eighty percent of life is waiting in line.

Matter of fact, I’d even take it one step further. I’ll go out on a limb and say, life is the line. Standing in a queue of sixteen people in the freezing cold winter actually as good as it gets.

The sooner we learn how to leverage our blocks of time to our advantage, the better.

Please note, I’m not suggesting working or being in flow state every minute of the day. Or constant doom scrolling on our phones until we get that sweet, sweet dopamine hit before the next crisis comes along. Sometimes just sitting there doing nothing is exactly what the mind needs need.

But that’s not a waste either. When you bring proper intention and attention to your experience, you are the arbiter of your own fulfillment.

A leading university recently published a fascinating study showing that occupied time feels shorter than unoccupied time. Their research confirms how waiting can provoke impatience, stress and anxiety, and in turn, anxiety makes waits seem longer.

But the reason waiting in line feels like a form of torture is less about the statistics of the wait itself, and more about the psychology of queuing. According to the study, the biggest influence on our feelings about lines, though has to do with our perception of fairness.

The story we’ve all agreed on is, fairness dictates that the length of a line should be commensurate with the value of the product or service for which we’re waiting. That’s why we get the nagging sensation that life is slipping away. Because we think we’re owed something.

But fair is yet another four letter word that sets us up for disappointment.

Hate to break it to you, but fairness is an illusion.

All of our lives are given to us, therefore our default state can only be gratitude.

Delta once cancelled my flight because of a blizzard, which meant arriving home a day later. That wasn’t unfair, that was reality. That wasn’t the universe plotting against me, just another day I’m gifted with to enjoy being in a different city.

I’m not one to complain about squandering my dwindling. I’m not interested in inviting strangers to my pity party about how the hours are drifting away. I make the inevitable delays that inject themselves into my daily life a touch more bearable by asking myself how each one is an opportunity for me to do more of my favorite things. I’m superimposing a filter of meaning over the spotlight of my experience so that the color is more to my liking.

It’s funny, the national institute of stress reports over forty percent of adults claims they don’t enough time to do the things they want to do. Meanwhile, the country spends a staggering thirty billion hours waiting in line every year.

Why not integrate these data points to solve two problems at the same time?

Somebody could invent a time tracking app that matches wait time with to do lists. Our software determines line wait times by allowing users to post their location to a database that tracks how long the user spends at that location.

Based on our data, the app give its best guess to how long the wait is at this location using other users’ previous wait times. Once your estimated duration is verified, then our algorithm integrates with your to do list, bank account, weekly calendar and even your new year’s resolutions to find tasks that can easily be accomplished while standing there.

For example, let’s say you’re doing some last minute holiday shopping at the mall. A dozen anxious parents are queuing up at the toy store to buy the latest piece of shit gizmo that promises to revolutionize the way kids become infuriated by some goddamn blinking dot.

According to our algorithm, the next thirty minutes of your life will be standing in that stupid line, so you may as well make the most out of it.

Next, the app notices you need to investigate a mysterious recurring nineteen dollar monthly fee that’s been showing up on your credit card statement. That’s six minutes right there.

Then the app notices you have an old friend whose calls you’ve been avoiding for the last eighteen months. What a perfect time to give her a call and catch up. Another few minutes spent wisely.

Finally, as you approach the cash register and realize this toy store just sold out of their hottest item and pandemonium is about to break loose, our app connects you to a mindfulness meditation sequence that will help lower your blood pressure and remind you that you’re not a terrible mother after all.

By the time your supposedly wasted thirty minutes is up, you’ll feel more organized, connected and calm than you were before you arrived at the mall.

And sure, your child will receive a lump of coal in their stocking this year, but as we’ve already learned, fairness is an illusion.

Remembering, wastefulness is a choice. When life forces you into some circumstance that’s less than ideal, take control of your circumstances as an opportunity to do more of your favorite things.

What if there was no such thing as wasted time?