Do you wonder about the guy who leaves the therapist's office right before you? Or the woman who's booked after you? This site lays bare what really happens behind the therapist's door and what he really thinks of you. ...
When I go to my therapist's office I'm usually the only person in the waiting room before my session. This is despite the fact that she shares her space with two other clinicians. My session is in the late morning, which isn't "prime therapy time," thus giving me full access to the waiting area to do what I please. Sometimes I'll get there a bit early and scope out the periodicals. Other times I'll people watch outside the window or, if I haven't done any pre-therapy tailgating, I'll think about what I want to talk about this upcoming session. This week I was reading The New Yorker. Why the hell aren't any of MY pieces in here? If Dr. Phil wrote something I'm sure it would be in here no matter how stupid it was. I swear, they will rue the day they didn't find my website! While I was silently bitching a woman came into the waiting room, which actually startled me a bit given the rarity of the occasion. She was dressed in brown pants and a same-colored button-down shirt. She also had on work boots and a utility belt, which made her a cross between a construction worker and the UPS person. She looked around the waiting room a bit and ducked her head under some chairs, possibly looking for something electrical to fix. Then she plopped down on a chair right near me and let out a big sigh. "So," she said. "Here to have your ticker fixed?" I didn't look up from the magazine right away. In my own office I rarely see clients in the waiting room ...
Anytime
