I was telling someone recently how much I was enjoying producing my podcast “The Enlightened Rogue” and mentioned it was almost like free therapy.
When that person asked me if I ever had therapy, I remembered an occasion in 1994.
At that time, I was in sales for four years and I let my guard down. What an understatement.
I let one of those Scottsdale barracudas move in with me. I must admit, I was alone all the time and the road was getting to me.
She was a looker and I took the bait. That lasted exactly 87 days. More about her later.
Long story short, she moved out while I was at a meeting in Las Vegas. I told her to get out and not be there when I got home. She was pure evil.
Not only was she not there, as was most of my furniture, she even took the dishes.
When I pulled into my drive way, my neighbor ran up to my car and told me he thought I had moved because of the moving van. Moving van?
This woman came with nothing and left with everything. Never to be seen or heard from again.
Now I am not a guy who gets easily depressed, but this got me. I couldn’t function. I couldn’t even get out of the bed I had to replace in a hurry,
Someone told me that Dupont provides counseling for field based employees.
I called and they set up an appointment for me with a local therapist. What a great benefit, I thought.
My first appointment was in Phoenix. The office was upstairs from a Border’s book store.
My therapist was a short, chubby, wildly animated red haired lady who looked like she could use a few sessions herself.
She told me my company would pay for the session, but there would be a 35 dollar co-pay.
Fine with me, but I didn’t know she was one of those “inner child” therapists.
As most people know, I had a wild upbringing. Leslie Greenfield, who worked in HR and who I used to date, called it tragic.
Only a few minutes in, this little lady starts talking to me like I’m a baby.
She starts calling me “Little Bobby.”
I’m getting the creeps.
I’m thinking to myself “what a ridiculous looking woman.” Wild hair, too much make-up and perfume that smelled like RAID insect spray.
Not only that, she’s twitching and making squeaking noises while I’m attempting lighten my existential load.
I’m thinking Dupont must have got her at a bargain when she blurts out, “Let’s stop here, I’m going to get little Bobby a doll.”
At this point I’m stunned, but I ain’t no fool, and as soon as she is out of sight, I go for the door.
I am down the stairs and in my car in seconds.
Twenty minutes of that and whatever brought me there has completely vanished. Like me.
A few months later, I’m at that same mall having lunch with a radiologist from Good Samaritan hospital.
As we’re leaving the restaurant, he tells me he wants to pick up a book at Border’s.
I’m browsing the books while waiting for my doc, when I hear, “You! It’s you! You owe me money. I remember you. Where’s my co-pay?”
Oh no, I’m not having this. I can’t let her embarrass me in from of a customer and I act like I don’t know what’s she’s talking about.
She looks completely disoriented and disheveled. Which would work in my favor in a few minutes.
I’m like, get away from me lady.
This drives her even more shall I say, batshit? I quickly head for the door while she’s still screaming about her 35 dollars.
At this point she’s drawing a crowd and she’s acting like a drunk who got kicked out of happy hour.
Now we’re out on the sidewalk and there’a cop taking this all in.
I quickly tell him an abbreviated version and he starts laughing. Whew! My stand up experience always saves my bacon.
He tells her to take it upstairs and I get out of there in a hurry.
I complained to Dupont human resources and they told me not to worry about it, they would take care of it. Which they did.
So in the future, if I need therapy, I will get it on my podcast.
Be sure to tune in. 🙂
Please note: I welcome comments that are offensive, illogical or off-topic from readers in all states of consciousness.