I hate flakes

You know what I hate? Flakes. I was supposed to have lunch with this guy who has a small oil company and talk about what we could do for him regarding a well they just drilled (um, nothing). The last time we met, he was 10 minutes late. Fine. Well, this time I waited 35 minutes without so much as a phone call and then I bailed. We're now at 1 hour 27 minutes, still no call. Mind you, I am on vacation this week so I am extra bitter. This guy is a bit flakey. OK, a lot flakey. I cannot stand people who are not on time, within the constraints of their culture of course - in France you've got about 20 minutes grace. In England, 10-15. In Germany, 5, maybe 10. UGH, I am so annoyed: I cleaned up from painting and even showered, put on presentable clothes and everything. All for naught. GRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRR.