The second therapist was nice enough to sit down with me. She was a beautiful woman with a degree from Smith College. I sat on the couch and started telling her about my numerous anxieties. About fifteen minutes into the session she started yawning. I didn’t like that she suddenly sent a text message to someone, hiding her Blackberry under the desk, while I talked about some of my “performance problems.” A minute later, the therapist received a phone call. It was her “babysitter.” The therapist would have to cut short our first appointment because the sitter had to go home early.
“So, when do I see you again?” I asked.
“I’ll call you.”
Now with added clarification: 0% true!
A Year Ago on Citizen of the Month: Nauseous and Nauseated