Psychiatrist's are people too. Or something.

Last summer Mike and I signed up for couples counseling at this therapy center in Midtown.

Did I just tell the internet that we signed up for couples counseling? Yes, I did. Hold on a second while I find a soap box to climb up on....

I know some people shy away from therapy and couples counseling, but I think it's brilliant. The only reason we left couples counseling last time (we've been in and out for as long as we've been together. I swear it's why we still like each other) was because our therapist spent most of our sessions talking about herself instead of letting us talk. Let me provide a breif example of what our sessions were like:

Mike: She hits the snooze button like, fourteen times in the morning. It's infuriating!
Me: Well... I'm sorry! I don't do it on purpose.
Therapist: Oh my gosh. That is so funny. My husband does the same thing! It drives me crazy. We've tried everything to get him to wake up the first time the alarm goes off, but he just doesn't. Sometimes I want to smother him! 
Me: Uh... anyway, Mike stays up really late reading and I can't go to sleep if he's reading, so then I'm too tired to get up in the morning, so it's not entirely my fault.
Mike: Why don't you use that little eye pillow I bought you?
Therapist: My husband and I stay up late watching 30 Rock. That is just the best show! We're in the middle of season 2. We can't get enough of it! Have you watched it? It's great. My favorite character is Liz Lemon. I really identify with her. Except I'm married and I have a great sex life. And I'm not baby crazy. Ew, babies, gross! But we're both really smart women, very career oriented. I just think it's the greatest show.....

People who talk incessantly about nothing drive me crazy. But paying someone to talk incessantly about nothing? REALLY DRIVES ME CRAZY.

We should have suspected that this therapy place would be bunky, considering our initial experience there. Before we could start therapy, we had to be evaluated by a psychiatrist, and oh! What an experience that was. We showed up on the day of our evaluation and were greeted by the receptionist, a cheerful girl seated at a desk midway between the elevator and the administrative offices. She told us to have a seat in the waiting area, and that our evaluating psychiatrist would probably be a few minutes late. No problem, we said. It was 11:45 a.m. and our appointment wasn't until noon, so we sat back and started flipping through magazines. 

At 12:05 the elevator doors opened and an ancient, tiny, beautifully dressed woman stepped out of the elevator. Her bouffant hair-do was a glistening, snowy white. Her back was straight, her nails were manicured, her makeup flawless. I expected to watch her glide out of the elevator, a vision of elderly perfection, but instead she took a tentative step into the lobby and then began a slow and painful looking lurch towards the administrative office. I think it took her fifteen minutes to cross the fifteen foot lobby. Halfway through her journey, as she passed the reception desk, the receptionist chirped, "Good morning, Rita!" and she whipped her head up and spat, "WHO ARE YOU?"

The receptionist glanced over at Mike and I, then smiled weakly. She turned to Rita and said, "It's me, Rita. The daytime receptionist. Lauren."

"I don't know any Lauren." Rita hissed. Then she hobbled her way over to the administrative office. 

This little scene piqued my curiosity, so I craned my head around to see past the reception desk. The entryway to the administrative office was lined with mailboxes. Rita stood in front of them, pulling a stack of file folders from one, scrutinizing each folder with a furrowed brow. A minute later she turned and lurched back over to the reception desk. Eight minutes after that she reached the reception desk.

"Is there anything I can help you with, Rita?" Lauren asked.

Rita's eyes opened wide and her jaw dropped. "Who are you? How do you know my name?"

Lauren sighed. "I'm Lauren. The receptionist. What can I assist you with?"

"How did you get here?" Rita's mouth was gaping. She looked a little bit like a fish on land, gasping for water.
"I've worked here for the last seven months."
"Don't sass me, girl!"
Lauren took a deep breath, held it for a moment, then smiled. "Can I assist you with something?"
"I need my evaluation files."
"Aren't these your files?" Lauren asked, pointing to the stack of files in Rita's hand.
"No!" She huffed. "I need my files."
Lauren pulled a piece of paper from a drawer in her desk. "This is today's evaluation sheet," she explained, "and these are the names of your patients for today. They are the same names as the names on those files." Rita grimaced, blinked, examined the evaluation sheet. "See?" Lauren continued, "These are your files. They're all here."
Rita gasped. "Where did these come from??"
"... Your hand?"
"WHAT?"
"You were holding them. You got them out of your mailbox."
"My mailbox? What mailbox?"
Lauren closed her eyes and pressed her hand to her forehead. She took another deep breath and turned to me and Mike, innocent bystanders on a pleather bench. "Your 12 o'clock clients are here, Rita. Are you ready for them?"

Oh dear god. THIS was our EVALUATING PSYCHIATRIST?

Rita stared at the receptionist, blinking her eyes as if trying to clear something fuzzy from her vision. "What? ... Oh! Yes. I have a new couple today. Do you know if they're here?"

"They're sitting right behind you. They're all ready to go."
"Who is?"
"Mike and Tricia Frost."
"Who's that?"
"... Your 12 o'clock clients..."
"Yes. I have a new couple. Are they here?"
"They're right behind you."
Rita looked over her shoulder, a four-minute maneuver, looked right at me and Mike, and turned back to Lauren. "No, he isn't. I don't see him."

"Him? No, Rita. It's a couple. They're right there."

"A couple? Why would I see a couple?"

At which point I stood up and introduced myself. In retrospect, I should have grabbed my purse and my husband and run screaming in the other direction, but I'm too polite. Or I'm too much like a throw rug. Either one. So I held out my hand and said, "I'm Tricia Frost. This is my husband. We're here to be evaluated for couples counseling."

Rita stared at me, mouth agape. Then she whispered to Lauren, "Who are those people? Why are they looking at me?"

"This is the couple that has a 12 o'clock appointment to be evaluated by you."

"I don't have a client."

"Yes, you are seeing a couple at 12 o'clock. Mike and Tricia Frost. It's right here on the evaluation schedule."

"Oh. Where's their file?"
"In your hand."
"No, it isn't."
Lauren pointed to the file clutched in Rita's bony hand. "It's right there. In your hand."
"Where'd that come from?"