It’s a little late in the day, but there’s a little bit of work getting ready for release day.
The second client I would like you to meet is a little more normal than the one we met yesterday. Though he has a bit more anxiety and his name is slightly awkward. Without further ado:
“Welcome.” She smiled and took the clipboard. “All right, Mr. Thehob, how can I help you?”
As he settled to the couch, his forehead creased and eyes closed. “The Hob.”
“I’m sorry.” Did he say the? Her stomach sank. This wasn’t going to be a normal session either. Good grief.
“My name; it’s George the Hob.”
Oh rats, he did say the. Should she call him Mr. Hob? “I’ve never met someone with a name like yours before. How would you like me to address you?”
His face smoothed, and for the first time since she met him, he stopped rocking. “George. Thank you for asking.”
Encouraged, she continued. “George, why don’t you start by telling me what brought you here today?”
He stood and began to pace in front of her desk, from the door on one side to the draped window on the other. “The problem is I’m not always pleasant. People will do something stupid or say something stupid, and I just lose my cool.”
“Everyone loses their cool, George.”
“No, not everyone. Not a Hob.” Step, step, step to the window. “I’m different. Sometimes, I don’t want to smile.” Step, step, step to the door. “I can’t be happy all the time. I’m supposed to be, I just can’t. Sometimes they call me hobgoblin.”
She glanced at her notepad. If she watched George too long, she’d need a Dramamine. “You say you’re supposed to be happy,” she said, sidestepping the nickname. “Who says what you’re supposed to be?”
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