I Was A Hot Mess Until I Discovered This Simple Truth

How I went from a slave to everyone’s beck and call to be the master of my own universe. It’s about time.

I’m sitting at my desk in the late nineties, crammed into a 500-square-foot office at the Manoa Innovation Center, AKA CyberCom HQ, my web dev startup. It’s a chaotic, electric time—our golden moment. We’re the first legit web developer in Hawaii, breaking rules, setting the pace, and conquering the world. We’ve got about a dozen employees, all young, hungry University of Hawaii grads in their early twenties, fresh from the IT department, sent my way by Dr. Itoga. These guys are my tribe—brash, brilliant, with a rebel streak that fits our upstart culture like a glove. We’re jamming on projects for clients like Newsweek International, working double shifts, 9 a.m. to 3 a.m., fueled by pure adrenaline. The office is a hive—separator walls between desks give a sliver of privacy, but it’s nonstop action, phones ringing, keyboards clacking. I’m in the corner, buried in code or client calls, and every hour, someone’s at my desk with a question, a problem, a need. Interruptions are relentless, and I’m riding the wave, thinking this is what it means to be the boss.

No One Cares

One day, I’m out of the office, hitting the road for client meetings, sales calls, presentations, association luncheons—the whole entrepreneur hustle. I’m not at my desk, so I call into the office every couple of hours to check in. “Hey, does anybody need anything?” I ask, expecting the usual flood of issues. But every time, the answer’s the same: “Nah.” Nobody needs anything. I’m baffled. When I’m in the office, it’s a parade of interruptions—someone’s always at my desk, needing direction, a decision, or just a quick chat. But out here, miles away, it’s crickets. I call again, same thing. No one needs me. How the hell is this possible? I’m driving between meetings, my mind spinning, and it hits me like a rogue wave: they only come to me at my desk because I’m physically there. My presence is an open invitation. If I’m not there, they figure it out themselves or wait till I’m back. It’s not that their problems aren’t real—they just aren’t urgent. They’re not thinking about my time, and why should they? They’re focused on their own needs, same as anyone.

The Big Ah Ha On Who Owns What

This hits me like a ton of bricks. I’m the only one who’s going to defend my time. Nobody else is sitting there wondering if I’ve got a moment to spare—they’re just doing what comes naturally, seeking answers when they see me. It’s human nature, plain and simple. You think about your own needs because that’s what you know best. Sure, you can try to consider others, but at the end of the day, your world revolves around you. I see it now: if I don’t set boundaries, I’m letting my time slip through my fingers. This isn’t just about interruptions; it’s about control—control of my life, my focus, my destiny. I think back to those early days, like when I learned to sell, going from geek to sales guy, or when I started XenTec after a crazy office revolt. Those moments taught me I could shape my path, but this is different. This is about owning the one resource that defines everything: time. If I can master it, I can master anything.

Now I’m Writing My Rules

Back at the office, I start experimenting. I carve out “do not disturb” periods on my calendar—sacred blocks where I can focus. The guys still come to my desk, same as always, but now I say, “Hey, can this wait an hour?” And you know what? It’s always, “Yeah, no problem.” No one’s offended, no one’s slighted. They come back later, or they solve it themselves. It’s like when I was out on the road—they adapt. I’m floored by how simple it is. People work around me, just like they did when I wasn’t there. This changes everything. I start applying it everywhere. Phone rings? I’ll only instantly answer if it’s my wife or kids. Unknown number? Straight to voicemail, no question. Existing contact? I’ll ask myself, “Do I need to drop everything I’m doing and make this moment the most important in my life right now?” The answer as you might guess is almost always no. I’m not being a jerk—it’s about priorities. I allocate time for myself, my family, my work, and yeah, I leave slots open for meetings, but only when I say so. I’m the one who decides how my calendar gets filled.

The 6 Month Lunch Reservation

This shift ripples through my life. I get ruthless about my time, but not in a cold way—just clear. I’m running CyberCom, we’re still growing like wildfire, and I’m juggling a million things, just like when we launched Hawaii’s first commercial website. But now, I’m intentional. An old client from my XenTec days reaches out in March, wants to grab lunch. I check my calendar, and I’ve got a ton of things to finish. I tell him, “Let’s do it in September.” At that lunch six months later he says, “Man, I’ve never waited six months for a lunch before.” I just smile. It’s not about being too busy—it’s about choosing how I spend my time. That was one the best lunches I had because it happened on my terms. I’m not bending my life to fit someone else’s schedule anymore (unless of course they are more hard-core about their calendar thanI am about mine). It’s empowering as hell.

Time’s the True Currency of the Universe

Here’s the truth: time is the most precious thing in the universe. You get 24 hours a day, same as everyone else, and once a moment’s gone, it’s gone forever. What you do with those hours decides everything—whether you’re changing the world or just scraping by. No one’s going to protect your time for you. Nobody cares as much as you do about your life, your dreams, your focus. I learned that the hard way, sitting in that cramped office, drowning in interruptions until I realized I could say no, set boundaries, and take control. It’s not selfish—it’s survival. It’s why I exited the web dev business when the time was right and why I walked away from venture capital funding. You decide how to spend every one of those 24 hours. Spend them the way you want, because if you don’t, someone else will. Aloha!