First Session
Erica anxiously picked a bit of imaginary lint off her pants. Then she tapped her foot. Recrossed her legs. Shifted in her seat. Anything to make the time go by faster in this godforsaken waiting room.
Technically, it was a fine, nondescript waiting room. Empty, save for Erica and the smiling receptionist tapping away at her computer, occasionally humming to herself. It was in an equally nondescript part of the city, nestled in a business park, marked only by a simple sign, reading "Beriman Professional Counseling & Training" on the front. It was far too plain and boring to find truly annoying.
The problem was that this was the last place Erica wanted to be. She
shouldn't
be here. She'd done nothing to compel any "counseling and training," as far as she was concerned. But her blowhard boss had demanded it, and there weren't enough jobs for a newly graduated woman in this economy to quit. So here she was, trying not to go insane from anger and impatience while she waited to see the bought-and-sold quack the company kept on retainer,
"Ms. Langley? The doctor will see you now."
Sighing in relief and resignation, Erica followed the receptionist's direction down the hall, before knocking on the plain brown door at its end.
"Please, come in!" A deep, warm voice rang out from the office.
Inside, Erica found a cozy office, furnished with a wooden desk, chairs, and a plush couch against the far wall. Opposite the couch was an old fashioned grandfather clock that nearly reached the ceiling, a large pendulum ticking away beneath its face.
"Welcome. Ms. Langley, I presume?" The man behind that deep voice was older -- at least in his late 50s, if Erica had to guess -- but greeted her with a bright and cheerful energy. He shook her hand eagerly, firmly.
"Yes, that's me. I take it you're Dr. Beriman?" Erica forced a smile. She knew this guy was just here as a face for the stodgy old farts at work, but he also held her future employment in his hands. Best to be polite, if he was.
"Please, call me Ben. And have a seat on the couch. I've been assured by many of my clients that it's quite comfortable."
"Uh, sure, Ben. Thank you." Erica did as he offered, sitting curtly on the plush couch, trying not to sink into its cushions. Ben quickly wheeled out his chair from behind his desk, and sat opposite her.
"So, would you mind telling me what brings you to my humble establishment?" His eyes were bright, welcoming. It was oddly youthful next to his thinning, gray hair. Erica tried not to grimace as she answered his question.
"Don't you...already know? I was told the office had arranged these sessions."
"True, true, but as I understand it there's a bit of contention about the, let's say, necessity of your counseling sessions with me." He winced with what Erica could only read as commiseration. "I've heard your boss' side of the story. I think it's only fair I hear yours as well."
That gave Erica pause, though it didn't totally assuage her doubts. She had figured this guy's practice had been chosen for her "disciplinary counseling" because he was willing to play the lap dog. But if he was actually willing to hear her out...
"Well, for starters, I don't think I should be here at all."
"Not uncommon with my clients. So you don't feel you've been, ah, what was the phrase he used...'needlessly hostile and confrontational' in the workplace?"
Erica glared, remembering when she'd heard those exact words come out of Mr. Robertson's disinterested old mouth.
"Not unless telling the men I work with to keep their hands to themselves is 'hostile' now."
"I see." Ben worriedly rubbed his chin. "I don't believe your manager mentioned that."
"Of course he wouldn't. He likes to run the place like an old boys' club right out of the stone age." Erica leaned back into the couch, arms crossed. "It was bad enough when I first started, and every guy in the building felt the need to comment about my wardrobe. I put up with that, but then some dickhead from accounting thought slapping me on the ass was a compliment. I gave him hell, got sent to HR, and now I'm expected to complete these counseling sessions or I'll be dismissed."
"That certainly does sound like a hostile work environment," Ben replied pensively. "Usually, my suggestion would be to speak with human resources, but if they're the ones that sent you to me, I doubt they'll be very helpful."
Erica blinked in surprise. Was he...taking her side? Or at least taking her seriously?
"Wait, so, you believe me?"
"I don't see why not. What you've described is sadly an all-too-common reality for professional women. Also, frankly, I've been familiar with Mr. Robertson for long enough to know the kind of culture he keeps in his offices."
"And you still work with the guy?"
"I could ask you the same," Ben prodded, but the warm smile on his face assured her he was joking. "What can I say? Being kept on retainer is a good deal, and allows me to be more discerning with my regular clientele. Can't look a gift horse in the mouth with this economy."
"You got that right." Erica sighed. "I'd have quit way before this, but the job market's in the toilet and my whole graduating class is still flooding it."
"Yes, I imagine finding a new position would be difficult. Yet I suspect you don't want to keep things as they are now," Ben said, hand on his chin as he paused thoughtfully.
"God no, but it's not like I've got much choice. I just...don't know how long I can keep my temper under control when I'm surrounded by horndog old men treating me like some sexy little office bimbo." Erica sighed again, leaning back into the couch, deflated. It really was a relief to get this off her chest, but laying out the situation made her feel more helpless at the same time.
Ben quirked his eyebrow, leaned forward in his chair.
"Interesting that you phrase it that way. Why do you worry about keeping
yourself
under control?"
"Well, because it's all I can really do," Erica said, embarrassed by how helpless the admission felt. "I know I'm not going to convince any of the men around me to not be pigs, at least not when their boss is the head hog. All I can do is grit my teeth and bear it -- but look where that got me. No offense."
"None taken. But I understand what you mean. That's a very practical outlook, Erica. One of the key principles I try to instill in my clients is that the only things we truly control in life are our selves." Ben seemed excited, like he'd been waiting forever to talk about this exact subject. He stood up from and approached her, eyes shining. "We can't prevent every bad thing that happens, but we are free to decide how we react to it. I strongly believe that if more people thought like you, we could greatly reduce the conflict in this world."
"Um, thanks? Honestly I feel like kind of a loser thinking that way."
"You couldn't be further from the truth, my dear!" Ben stood up, stepped forward to grasp her hand between his. He stared down at her as he spoke, words coming faster than ever. "You've recognized your problem, and correctly deduced the parameters of what you can do to address it. If anything, you're ahead of the curve!"
"Fat lot of good it does me. Should I just make myself
not
get pissed off when some jerk at work tries to cop a feel?"
"That's exactly it, my dear!" Ben said with a beaming smile, looking down at Erica like a high school teacher who'd just discovered the one student who'd bothered to take notes in class.
"Wait, what?"
"Tell me, what do know about hypnosis?"
* * *
"So, does that sound like a plan?" Ben asked, eyes eager, determined.
Erica shifted in her seat, uncertain about all of this. For as well-meaning as Ben seemed, she really didn't think any of this was necessary. But, if he insisted, it was better to play along, if only to stay on his good side.
"I guess? Honestly I don't really believe in..."
"Trust me, you're not the first nor the last. But I promise it will prove effective. All we need is to instill a conditioned response in your subconscious mind that will keep you from getting immediately angry towards the harassment at your work. Not only will that allow you to avoid retribution from your superior, it will leave you far less frustrated and tense at the end of the day!"
While he spoke, Ben paced around the room, fiddling with a remote. Gradually the lights in the office ceiling dimmed, leaving a soft, warm, orange that kept everything just barely visible. The room was bathed in shadow, except for-
Flash
Erica blinked, vision dazzled by the sudden, bright light that washed across her face. She shook her head, looked around for the source, until she spotted a sole beam of light aimed down from the ceiling, directly at the old clock opposite her. The light hit the glass at just the right angle, that when the pendulum reached the center of its arc, the polished gold-
