“Do People REALLY Talk to You?!”

We happened to arrive at the slow elevator at the same time. I thought for a second about not joining her for the ride up, but then thought again about how long I would have to wait for the next trip. She stood across from me, watching the door as it closed. She knew my role as the psychologist within the system, yet she seemed bent on not acknowledging my presence whenever I was in the vicinity. She had been encouraged by others to seek my help but apparently was not interested in what I could offer.

As the elevator began to move, she changed her gaze from the door to me. Looking straight into my eyes, she asked, “Do people really talk to you?” in a somewhat incredulous, yet honest tone of voice. I was taken aback. Up to this point in my work in the building, she had said maybe two words to me. Now, she had a very direct question that on some level seemed sincere. I took a brief second to collect my thoughts, and then responded with an enthusiastic “Yes, people do talk to me.” With the elevator still moving to her designated floor, she asked her next question, “Why?”

I don’t know about you, but I appreciate the opportunity to share with others the benefit of psychotherapy. The elevator doors began to open as I was wrapping up my elevator talk with “I’m helpful, objective, a good listener, and someone others can trust.” She turned and began to walk away. After a couple of steps, she looked back at me and said, “Hmmm. OK.”

I wish I could say that she contacted me for an appointment, or at least a consultation. That didn’t happen. But what did happen was a brief moment of opportunity to declare truth about the character of psychotherapy and psychotherapists. Yes, people do talk to us. They tell us all kinds of private, devastating, personal, embarrassing, wonderful, sad, exciting, and hurtful things. We are the receptacle of all kinds of emotions and information, with the professional responsibility to be objective and trustworthy with what has been shared.

In the ethics class I teach, I like to present the opportunity for both the students and me to think about the “fiduciary” responsibility we have when it comes to clients’ well-being. As an object lesson, I bring out a plaster mold of my daughter’s hand, made when she was two and half years’ old. I hold the mold and say, “This mold is irreplaceable. If I break it or someone else breaks it, I can’t replace it. My daughter will never be two and a half again.” I connect this with clients’ emotional well-being. We have a huge responsibility to provide good care in our practice.

If I ever get asked again about why people talk to me, my elevator speech will be a bit longer: “I’m helpful, objective, a good listener, someone others can trust, and my goal is to provide good care.”