Sex is a waste of time too but it sure feels good.
I had a 10 x 14 bunkhouse I stayed in at the farm on weekends. The phone rang in the barn one rainy Saturday morning. Vinyl siding saleslady. Not able to do much work outside, I thought I would waste her time by toying with her for a while.
Told her my name was Ronald Reagan, like the President, and I was hard of hearing. She had to shout every word repeatedly. Asked her where she was calling from and what's the weather like there.I sure was interested in siding and gave her the size of my house, 10 x14. I didn't have any money, could I pay it out? Gave her directions from town. You do know where Brushy Knob is on the way to Turkey Trot don't you?
She took all that down and turned me over to her supervisor who confirmed the info and made an appointment. I then told him I didn't like telemarketers and didn't even have a house here and had been wasting their time.
Next Saturday morning, a fellow in a suit got out of his shiny 300ZX with a lost look. I waited out in the corral and made him walk through the manure out to me. Certain he was at the wrong place because there was no house, he asked if I knew me. He kept looking back at his car as the sheep gathered round and my dog pissed on his wheel. If I hadn't been busy, I would have had him measure the bunkhouse and the outhouse.
I told him how I had screwed with the telemarketers and had told them it was a joke. He wasn't happy. He had driven 70 miles to slam dunk a deal with this old deaf codger.
Half hour of my time versus a half day of his. Hell yes, it felt good.