The Starbucks clock says 3:28 PM. My three o'clock appointment still hasn't arrived. I call and want to ask "Where the hell are you?" Of course I sound much more conciliatory. "Hi, this is Hesh. I was wondering if I have the wrong day or time."

He answers: "Oh, I'm so sorry, I forgot. I'll be there in 10 minutes."

I say, "Oh that's OK, don't rush, I called just to be sure that you were fine, since it is already 3.30 PM. Are you sure you can still make the meeting?"

He forgot. I guess this tells me how important the meeting is to him. But I have to act professionally. I wouldn't dare say something like, "Hey idiot, didn't you check your calendar? Or you have a secretary, didn't she remind you?"

But the person is a prospective client, so I keep on smiling. And actually I've been waiting for 45 minutes since I got to the meeting early. For me this is the biggest meeting of the week. I'm prepared. I'm over-prepared. My briefcase is stuffed with supporting documents. But I've boiled it down to one page, triple spaced: "less is more."

I wait another 15 minutes. I listen to two college kids sitting right next to me. They're talking about their summer ecology internship in Africa and how my generation has screwed everything up.

But wait a second. I now have an edge on my prospect. He owes me one. Maybe he'll be more open to doing business with me.

He arrives. We talk for five minutes and I realize that my services really don't match his needs. Now I'd really like to end the meeting; he is so boring. But I can't do that after only five minutes. So I wait and make conversation for 40 more minutes. Then I say thank you and leave.

If this were a Hollywood script, I'd return to my office dejected, but then the phone would ring and the prospect would tell me that his brother needs my services ASAP.

But this is not TV or the movies. I do return dejected, but he does not call.

I bump into him six months later, at a conference. I interrupt his conversation and give him a big smile and say "Hello!" He looks at me, first with a glare that says "Do I know you? And how dare you barge in on my favorite golf story?"

Then he looks at my name tag, squints hard to read it, and says to his colleague, "Oh yes, you're Hesh, how're you doing?"

Hersch. Damn it, my name is Hesh. Can't he even get my name right? Now is my chance to get back at him and respond with a caustic contemptuous comment.

But instead, I squeeze out this believable fake smile and say "Just fine. I'm doing fine. Hope your enjoying the conference. I'm on the welcoming committee, can I get you a drink?

"Why thank you. I'll have a gin and tonic," he answers, and returns to his story.

Dejected once more, I go up to the bar and order his drink. The bartender asks "With a twist of lime?"

"No," I answer. "But you can add a splash of arsenic."

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