The Therapist

So during my first couple of years as a PR professional I worked on a Fortune 500 company…a very big and high profile one. It shall remain nameless for legal reasons…hehe!

Anyway, I worked on the healthcare side of this company, which was funny because barely anyone knew they were in the healthcare field (guess that is why they needed PR). The cool thing with this company is that I got to call and work with top tier media and reporters. It was thrilling and very fast paced.

The downside of the company was the actual client…the human being who I dealt with on a daily even hourly basis. He was not patient and insanely needy. If you had to go the bathroom and weren’t there to answer your phone, he pressed 0 and had the operator page you. No joke…god forbid I had to pee. He would also hang up and call you right back multiple times a day.

I would hear the page and run back to my desk only to hear the client’s voice and realize he wasn’t paging for a breaking news emergency but for personal reasons. You see this client was getting divorced and had just recently moved to a new state. Not only was I this client’s agency, I was this client’s therapist. Two in one…quite the bang for your buck considering I was billing at a low rate since this was at the beginning of my career.

I could tell a business call vs. a therapist call by the first words out of his mouth, “Soooo listen to this…” I mean it would crack me up? What 35 year old male calls his agency to gossip about his ex? Seriously? I mean I had to take it – after all he was the client and always paid the bills on time. His “therapy sessions” single handedly helped me meet my billability each and every month.

His woes varied from the alimony to who she was dating, running into her when he was in town and how lonely he was in his new town. With every story I would reply, “awwwwwwwwwwwww, poor guy.”

I am often reminded of the sessions when I comfort the small children I take care of. Their woes are of a little bit different nature. They vary from booboos, not getting a popsicle, being pushed and tortured by a friend, sibling or cousin. They all come running needing to tell me everything. I immediately reply with a “awwwwwwwwwwww poor baby.” They seem to cheer right up and get right back out there.

Isn’t it amazing how similarly clients aka adults are to small children? It never ceases to amaze me.