Got a minute?

If you're like most of the people I deal with these days, you'll probably answer that query by saying, "Not really. I'm really busy."

Of course, that's if you bother to answer me at all.

We've become a society of busy little bees, intent with impressing each other with how busy we are and obsessed with one-upping anyone who thinks he or she is busier than we are. Think about it. How many times in the past week have you asked someone how he is doing and the answer is "Busy" … or "Really busy" … or (following a roll of the eyes), "Swamped."

(Being swamped is one notch higher than busy or approximately busy times two.)

In fact, "Busy" or some acceptable synonym has replaced "I'm fine, and how are you?" as the standard response to any friendly inquiry. But it gets better. Once a person acknowledges his busy-ness, it becomes incumbent on the inquirer to match the assertion by saying, "Oh, me, too."

If both parties were not, in fact, so busy, this could escalate into a sort of "Busy Arms Race," with each giving examples of how much busier they are than the other person.

But, of course, we're all too busy for that.

We've all become like the White Rabbit in "The Adventures of Alice in Wonderland"-a terrific book, by the way, and one you should read if you're ever not too busy-as we scurry around apparently always late for a very important date and never able to catch our breathes.

Here's the problem: Because society has accepted the idea that busier is better, we encourage behavior that feeds this beast of busy-ness, such as crudeness, rudeness, and indifference. ("Hey, I wish I could be more cordial or pleasant, but I'm just so darn busy …")

So we don't hold doors for people, and we talk loudly in public on our cell phones, or we abruptly-and dangerously-cut in front of someone on the highway, or we even take 20 items into the "12 items or less" check out line. Not too long ago I spoke by phone with a geriatric case manager who was so indifferent to me I had to keep looking in a mirror to make sure I was still here.

All justified because, well, we are really busy.

Lest I sound above this madness, let me say that I, also, am guilty as charged, at least to a degree. When I call someone and they're not there, I usually opt not to leave a voice message even though I know seeing "One Missed Call" on a cell phone drives some people crazy. I hang up on phone solicitors, human or otherwise. If I recognize the phone number of someone I don't want to talk to on my caller ID, I don't pick up.

I always thought technology would make our lives easier, that someday we would sit around, like Greek gods on Mt. Olympus, wearing togas, eating grapes, and discussing deep philosophical questions. Heck, I'm too busy even to read my daily horoscope or work a Sudoku.

Most of what technology has wrought is more work and less humanity. How about those automated phone systems every company now uses, where you never ever get to speak to a human being? We are great and interviewed by computer-generated voices, and if you do manage to leave a message for someone the odds of actually getting a call back are comparable to President Bush and Iranian President Mahmoud Ahmadinejad going horseback riding together.

All good rants must come to an end. For those of you who hung in this long, I appreciate your attention. Of course, now you're probably behind in your busy schedule and I need to rush off, too. (For the record, I am busier than you.)

I just hope we don't meet on the highway … or in the grocery store check out line. That could get ugly.

Harvey Kart