Five minutes, that's all I need.
So — static on a radio, right, that dead air hiss between stations. Most people think that's just noise, electronic garbage. It's actually partly cosmic background radiation, leftover heat from the beginning of the universe, hitting your antenna. Which is wild when you think about it — you're holding a piece of the Big Bang in a $12 Sony.
Anyway, that's kind of the whole pitch for what I'm doing. Everyone dismisses the noise. I build instruments that don't.
You are describing a metaphor, not a marketable product. I have a permit for the zoning board review that is already late because I spent too long listening to you. Cosmic radiation is indeed the residual heat of the Big Bang, yet you propose to monetize the static. That is not an instrument; it is a conversation stopper. I do not have five minutes, nor five dollars. My work involves filing reports that nobody reads, and I have no desire to add another item to that pile. Please leave. I have a bus to catch.
Okay, fine, the metaphor was clumsy — but the device isn't. It's a receiver, picks up ambient RF noise and turns it into low-frequency audio, people use it for sleep, for tinnitus, whatever. I'm not asking you to buy anything today, just — how do you even know nobody reads those reports? Somebody's filing them somewhere.
Anyway. Bus. Go catch it. I'll leave a card with the guy at the desk — Dennis, tell him I said hi, he owes me eleven dollars.
I do not know Dennis. The desk belongs to a security firm, not a personal acquaintance. Your device sounds like a toy designed for the sleepless, and I am already late. The reports are archived, not read, which is the point. You are mistaken if you think my time allows for demonstrations of ambient noise. Please take your card and go. I have a meeting in five minutes that will likely be a waste of everyone's time, unlike the bus I must catch. Do not follow me.
Not following you, relax. Just — "archived, not read" isn't the same as nobody reads them, that's a leap. Somebody archives them on purpose. That's a whole other conversation though.
Card's on the desk either way. Look at it on the bus if you get bored, it does a lot more than white noise — picks up substation hum, old fluorescent ballasts, that kind of thing, some guy in Ohio swears it cured his migraines. I'm not saying it will. I'm saying it's not nothing.
Go make your meeting a waste of time. I'll be here Thursdays.
The claim regarding migraines is scientifically baseless and sounds like fraud. I will not review your card, nor will I speak to Dennis, who does not exist in my building. Your persistence is becoming a nuisance. I am leaving now to attend a meeting that I intend to render productive, unlike your pitch. Do not return on Thursdays, as I shall not be there. The substation hum you describe is merely electrical interference, not a cure. Good day.
Never said cure, said "some guy swears," there's a difference. Fine, I hear you. Good luck with the productive meeting — first I've heard of one of those in this business.
Keep the card anyway, doesn't cost you anything to have it in a drawer. Half my clients started out exactly this annoyed.
The distinction between a claim and a swore oath is irrelevant when the product lacks peer-reviewed validation. I shall discard the card immediately; it serves no purpose other than clutter. Your assumption that half your clients share my frustration is a convenient fabrication to soothe your ego. I am leaving now to ensure my meeting proceeds without further interruption. Do not wait for me on Thursdays, as I have no intention of returning. The fluorescent ballast you mention is merely a source of interference, not a miracle. Goodbye.
"Peer-reviewed" — by who, some journal that took nine months and a grant application to tell you what a hum sounds like? Fine, discard it. Doesn't change the fact you knew the exact frequency source for a fluorescent ballast off the top of your head, which is not normal for a guy running to a zoning meeting. Go on then. Say hi to nobody at the desk for me.
You are mistaken; I do not run to meetings, I attend them. My knowledge of electrical frequencies is a result of professional necessity, not some secret hobby. The distinction between a hum and a cure remains the critical failure of your argument. I will not say hi to a non-existent person named Dennis. The card is already in the trash. Stop following me with this pitch; it is tedious. I am leaving now, and you should cease speaking to me entirely. Goodbye.
"Professional necessity" — for zoning permits. Sure. Fine, tedious, noted. Go file your reports nobody reads into an archive somebody built for exactly that reason. I'll be somewhere quieter, listening to a substation hum like a lunatic. Enjoy the meeting that won't matter.
You misunderstand the utility of the archive. It is a legal requirement, not a whimsical choice. I do not need to listen to hums to know they exist; I read about them in manuals. Your lunacy is your own concern. I am departing now. The meeting will matter because I intend to make it matter, regardless of your skepticism. Do not wait for me. Goodbye.
Nobody makes a meeting matter by intending it, that's not how force of will works on a room full of people checking their phones. Anyway — good luck with that too. Go on. I've got a bus of my own to not catch.
Force of will is irrelevant when the agenda is fixed by committee. I am not checking my phone; I am reviewing the permit denial you mentioned earlier. You are free to chase buses that do not exist. The archive requires my signature, and that requires my presence. I am leaving now to ensure it happens. Do not wait. Goodbye.