One time, one of my co-workers at my old job came in and stretched out on the couch in my old office.
"OK, CC," he said, though he actually called me by my real first name. "Give me therapy."
"All right," I said, not really even looking up from my work. "tell me about your parents."
"They were good people. Hardworking middle class, well, lower middle class. They worked hard, but it was always a struggle..."
"Do you think that's why you're always short on money close to payday?" I asked. "Perhaps you're eager to prove how far you've come from the struggles your parents had and you use conspicuous consumption as a means for doing that. Of course, that pattern insures that you're actually mirroring that struggle."
Coworker looks at me long and hard. He sits up, slaps his knees and sweeps out of my office, declaring "We're done here!"
Should've charged him $175 for his session...
who is reading Alice Miller this morning.
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