When I have a job to do, time means nothing. I lose patience

In the words of Don Cornelius, the creator of Soul Train and a man who built bridges of culture through rhythm and vision, we hear a declaration of devotion: “When I have a job to do, time means nothing. I lose patience with people who work on a clock.” These words, though spoken in the world of entertainment, carry the weight of universal wisdom. They remind us that greatness is not born from the ticking of hours, but from the burning fire of purpose that consumes the heart until the work is complete.

For to Cornelius, time was not a master but a servant. When a job demanded his full being—whether producing a show, uplifting musicians, or shaping the legacy of Black culture—he gave himself without measure. The clock, with its rigid hands, is a tool for ordinary tasks; but for the one consumed with vision, time itself dissolves. This is the secret of those who create works that outlive them: they labor not by hours, but by passion, devotion, and relentless pursuit of excellence.

History provides many mirrors of this truth. Consider the builders of the Great Wall of China, who toiled not with deadlines but with endurance, raising stone upon stone across centuries. Or recall Michelangelo, who lay on his back for years painting the Sistine Chapel, not counting hours but pouring his soul into each stroke until heaven itself seemed to gaze down through his frescoes. They too would have grown impatient with those who measured their labor by clocks, for their art was measured by eternity.

Cornelius’ words also reveal his impatience with mediocrity. To “work on a clock” is not merely to keep time, but to treat the task as something finite, a box to be checked, a burden to be endured until the hour ends. Such an attitude cannot give birth to greatness. He knew that those who treat their work as temporary will never achieve what those achieve who give their all, regardless of how long it takes. The clock-watcher works for wages; the visionary works for legacy.

The meaning of the quote is therefore heroic: to fulfill your calling, you must cast aside the obsession with hours and minutes, and instead measure your labor by dedication and completion. True patience is not waiting for the clock to strike the end of the day, but waiting until the work itself declares, Now I am finished. This is the way of masters, the path of creators, the discipline of those who change the world.

Yet his words also carry a warning: beware of giving your life to work without purpose. To ignore the clock is noble only if the job itself is worthy, if it uplifts, inspires, or fulfills a true calling. Cornelius devoted his time to creating a stage for musicians who had been ignored, to giving a voice to a people, to building a cultural monument. His disregard for time was justified, for his task was greater than himself. Let us learn from this balance: pour out your life only on that which matters.

The lesson for us is clear: live not by the ticking of the clock alone. When you take on a job, whether great or small, let your devotion, not the hour, guide your labor. If it is worth doing, it is worth doing fully, even if the night grows long and the dawn finds you still at work. Do not settle for “good enough” when greatness can be achieved through patience, endurance, and sacrifice.

So let Don Cornelius’ words be passed down as a torch: master the clock, but do not be mastered by it. Give yourself to your purpose so wholly that time disappears, and the only measure of your work is whether it carries your soul within it. For those who live this way will not be remembered for how many hours they worked, but for how deeply their work transformed the world.