At work, my desk shares a wall with a Feminist psychologist who specializes in shouting at men with phobias, or at least takes on a disproportionate number of men with phobias who want to be shouted at as clients. I tried to ignore the voices at first, perpetually turning up the volume on my headphones, but my ears starting ringing, and I could still hear them. I realize it's a violation of their privacy to listen in, but because my hand is forced in the matter, I figure I might as well enjoy the stories of childhood whimsy and horrific sexual encounters.
In the few days I've actually been into the office, I've started quietly cheering them on as they make personal breakthroughs. I wish listening to someone's deepest secrets through thin walls was a socially-acceptable way of getting to know them.
Thursday, July 9, 2009
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Sounds fascinating.
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