I have to speak my truth about “productive day in the life” content.
It is baffling that these people garner millions of likes, considering how they spend twenty four hours like it’s nothing! Sleeping through a third of the day—unbelievable. Ten minutes of meditation? It took me one hour to complete university, and you do glorified breathing for ten minutes? Sleeping seven hours—waking up at 6:00 A.M.—what a joke. I don’t sleep. I don’t eat. I subsist on hard work with a dollop of discipline.
Let me lead by example: this is how I live to maximize every morsel of life.
Getting outside into the fresh air is a nonnegotiable, so I got started with my day at 12:07.33 A.M., on the shores of Moose Pond Lake. My first order of business was being birthed, and then I spent a few nanoseconds bawling, then learned how to speak, read, and move. By 2:01.39 A.M., I had doubled in size, completed the fourth grade, and basked in the innocence of childhood for five seconds total.
At this point, I felt like I’d fallen behind, so I dropped out from elementary school to complete a PhD in economics. Even then, I failed—my goal was to begin my venture capital career by 4:59.00, but instead I started my first day on the job at 4:59.12.
(This is to say, I make mistakes too, but every centisecond is a new opportunity!)
So, by the worshiped wakeup time of 5:00.00, I already had a rather massive head start on all these famous day-in-the-lifers, such as Jeff Bezos. While Bezos and co. shuffled out of bed and sat on their toilets, I made a few thousand PowerPoints, simultaneously doing push-ups. I left work for a femtosecond at 7:20.00 to marry my girlfriend of 63 minutes, Tanya. At 7:39.12, we welcomed our dear twin sons, Gregory and Tom.
Then, while the slackers squandered the rest of their mornings, I got promoted twice, drank approximately 300 Americanos, and avoided several fraud convictions. Both of my parents died sometime here. I took one minute off work to organize funerals and mourn their deaths, then used another 30 seconds to come to terms with the imminence of death and the fragility of life.
(To those struggling with grief and pain, I see you. I validate you. From my experience, a nanosecond of therapy, inhaling an extremely shallow breath, and jogging two feet are deeply healing.)
I recall one of the imposters (Buffett, I believe?) said 12:15 to 12:30 P.M. (this slob doesn’t even keep track of milliseconds, much less nanoseconds!) was his “lunchtime”. I assume this term means luxurious holiday, or perhaps a multi-continent business ordeal. Either way, while he vacationed, I journeyed through immense midlife heartache. Tom emancipated himself to play professional cricket; right after, Tanya was diagnosed with cancer. Being elected the CEO of my firm was a pleasant surprise, but I didn’t breathe until Tanya entered remission at 12:14:03.
(You might be wondering—Jimmy, this doesn’t add up. It doesn’t take four hours to become CEO of a multibillion dollar company, and it shouldn’t take 90 seconds to mourn your parents! How is this efficient?
For me, family comes first in my life, no matter what. For example, I allotted 1.0001 second out of every 3.000 to spend quality time with my wife and sons. I gladly sacrificed hours out of my career for loving relationships, and I suggest you do as well.)
As a new empty-nester (Gregory had happily married), my schedule grew simpler around this time. In summary, in my four afternoon hours as CEO, I increased the company’s valuation eight-fold and successfully bribed three different senators. Around 4:01:23, I introspected for a picosecond, reaching the difficult decision to step down and retire.
Now, I have to give humans some credit here, because at least they plan their days in the mornings, which is crucial to time management. In my first three seconds of retirement, I scheduled out the next day or so. I noted all my essential commitments and goals: open heart surgery at 6:12.03 P.M., will-writing session around 7:00.12, build multi million dollar cancer foundation by 8:00:00…It was a rather tight squeeze to get everything in, what with my impending death at 12:14.33 A.M., July 27, but I persevered.
To be honest, dear reader, I’m realizing, with this full agenda I can’t spare any more time analyzing the sloth-like activity of these “disciplined” people. As a proud mayfly, I cannot pretend I understand why they are so clumsy with their time.
This is an issue beyond the of days-in-the-life. This is a fight for biological rights. Why do we hide away as if humans are the superior species of time-management? We mayflies may be small, but we savor love, sadness, anger, success to greater heights than they can imagine! It’s time to spread our wings and show these sloppy creatures an honest day of living.
Rough Human to Fly Years Conversions:
- After hatching, a mayfly typically lives 1 day on Earth.
- The average human life is 79 years.
- Roughly, 1 fly day is 3 human seconds.
- 1 fly week is 20 human seconds.
- 1 fly year is 0.3 human hours or 18 human minutes.
- 10 fly years is 3 human hours or 180 human minutes.
- 79 fly years is 1 human day or 24 human hours.
About the Author
Jimmy is the former CEO of FlyCo Global Management and current chairman of the Mayfly Cancer Institute. He is a proud American Ephemeroptera mayfly, who grew up in the northeast-most square centimeter of Moose Lake Pond, Maine, USA. He now lives in the southwest-most square centimeter of Moose Lake Pond, Maine, USA, with his wife Tanya and their pet amoeba, Gloop.
Writer | Brianna Zhang ’27 | byzhang27@amherst.edu
Editor | Hannah Koo ’25 | hkoo25@amherst.edu