An Unwitting Client (Canus & Chandler) @Frankel

C H A N D L E R

Revising the letter once more, I’d be unable to cherish the ten minute delay between my next meeting. Having so many faces to meet, I have to regularly remind myself who people are. Many of these capitolites have fluttered their frustrations around, due to me calling them by the wrong name. However on one occasion I did call somebody by their enemy’s name, due to the fact that I had spoken to them earlier on in the day. There are just far too many people in the Capitol with ‘problems’, most of them being out-right ridiculous or made up.

Just like my next patient.

Another one of the ever so familiar ‘my youngest is causing trouble but my eldest two are such sweeties.’ If parents were clever enough to divide their attention equally between their children, then I wouldn’t have such matters on my desk. Or even better, just not bother having children at all. I am surprised most of these citizens find themselves fit enough to even rear a child. Most of the time they’re indulging themselves in ridiculous things, spraying their bodies with ‘extravagant’ chemicals. Far too many Capitol children are like my next case. Spoilt, causing havoc. They’ve no excuse for rebelling; they have everything forced down their throats with a silver spoon. The only children that should rebel are those living in the lower Districts; for they have a much valid reason. I would much prefer treating them instead of the brats that live here. But I must stay put, after all they all hand me bags of money. I must not complain.

Finishing off the cup of coffee that is beginning to turn cold on my desk, I’d neck it down like a lukewarm shot. Shuffling the notes on my next patient, I’d drag myself from my chair, preparing to come face to face with the brute. I’ve been given a very demanding letter on the child from his parents and from what I have learnt from very little words, I can tell this is going to be a very awkward patient. One that is probably going to refuse my work. It will be one of the cliché his parents sent him here, expecting it to be a normal doctor. Then he will see me and know that I am what they call a ‘shrink’, I have never liked that name for a psychiatrist. I’d rather be called Doctor Who Listens To Your Ridiculous Garbage Who Then Offers Prescribed Medicines Which Don’t Help.

Stepping out of the office, my eyes would reach the lad in the waiting room, my predications being correct by my first encounter. Quickly, I’d be reminded of the ridiculous commercials I was unwillingly forced to create. I’d begin to’ look forwards’ to another meeting where the patient rattles on about how they loved the editing of the advert and forget that they’re here to get fixed. ”Yes that is me.” Blank words would fall from my blank expressionless face, as I’d try to escort the lad into my office.

”Pleased to meet you too, do sit down on the sofa.” Moving my hand to the brown leather sofa that sits beside my desk, I’d usher the lad into the office, preparing myself for an hour of drawl.

C H A N D L E R

Closing the door behind us both, I’d try to prepare my brain for what could possibly be the dullest hour. Thankfully, I can my fair share of entertainment with a few of my clients. Many of them conjure up ridiculously obvious made up stories that are rather fun to listen too. I do not understand why they waste money on these meetings, when it is obvious that there is plainly nothing wrong with them. Since I aired those commercials on the television, I’ve been getting all the idiots knocking at my office door. None of them really worthy enough for my professional skills. I still await a famous citizen, someone that will help direct real patients with real problems to my door. If somebody well-known owns up to their own problems, everyone will be spitting out their worries like a new fashion trend. Although I am sure to get a few fakes ones, with clever made up symptoms.

Glancing over to my patient, I’d make a visual report on the boy. From what I can tell from his appearance, he is any typical lad of his age in the Capitol; the visual from his parent’s letter being spot on.

Sitting down on the desk, I’d gather all the necessary papers and get everything organised on my desk quickly before the meeting begun. Like any new fresh meeting, I’d have to power out all the usual questions, regardless of what the patient’s problem is. Hopefully this lad will oblige with the questions and everything will run as smoothly as possible. I have seven more meetings after this. Seven more hours of listening to utter nonsense. Probably only a quarter of those seven will actually have real problems, they are the ones that I want to help; that I need to help. Hopefully, this boy will actually have some sort of disorder lodged into his brain. It will at least make my day more exciting.

”Yes I have.” Brushing away the boy’s un-necessary questions, I’d pull out a pen from the drawer. Quickly noting down his name to the top of the page, I’d begin the routine questions. ”You do not have to be here if you don’t want too, are you sure you want to commence with the next hour?” Having to ask such questions, I do not want to be accused of forcing people into this, especially brutes like him. If I have asked such questions, I at least have evidence that I did not force them into the hour. ”If so, do you have an incline on why you’re here today?” At least if I ask such a question, I can get the entertainment of watching him conjure up a fantasy syndrome.

C H A N D L E R

Stabbing the plain piece of paper with the pen, I’d take notes from the letter I received and implement them into the report. Even with such vague words, I can tell exactly why this kid was sent for my services. None of these so called problems are his own fault, it’s his parents. It’s all the same with most of my young patients. I am basically there to fix where their parents went wrong, which is the exact same with Canus.

Swirling the newly brewed mug of coffee that my secretary had poured earlier, I’d take in all the answers that the lad gave me.

Asking me why he was sent here, a sigh would roll from my mouth. Typical, his parents haven’t told him a word of why he is here. Moving the letter to my view, I’d read out the odd important note. ” I believe your father sent me a letter.” I’d say, taking a sip of the coffee before continuing. ”Supposedly you’re always making trouble. Although, you haven’t done anything that is… outrageous.” Trying to old back a laugh at the words in the letter, I’d hide it again by drowning it with coffee. ”Basically, they say you’re a troublemaker and I am here to find out why.”

Moving the letter away from view, before I cease up into laughter, I’d take the pen again. The boys words about him coming out as bisexual, send another sigh from my mouth. I do not understand why nobody can come to terms with sexuality. There are enough well known homosexual citizens, for example most of the victors. ”Well I am not the one to electrocute people for being gay although from the letter, I doubt that is the reason. Society has grown to somewhat…accept homosexuals and what not; so I would not worry about that.”

Shifting through the typical questions in my head, I’d try to pin another one that I could ask. I need to carry on with routine before I start asking the personal questions. However it seems with the letter, I have all the information I need. ”What do you do to entertain yourself, any hobbies? Are you still in schooling?”

C H A N D L E R

Taking another sip of the coffee, I’d glance at the blank report on the desk, which lies amongst the bustle of papers. Really, there is nothing important that I am supposed to write about the boy, there is obviously nothing wrong with him. This is just another one of those common worrying parent scenarios but I must write something. I must please this boy’s parents so that I can obtain the money for the waste of an hour that I have had to spend conversing with him. Stabbing a sentence of nonsense on the report, I’d begin it the typical way. I know when his parents have this sheet in hand, hopes will be high by the first sentence but I will soon stab a knife into their hopes with the next lines.

Glancing at the boy, I can tell he is in a daydreaming state, which is common for a human being. However I’d note down day dreamer on the note section of the report, just to add to the amusement for the parents to read. Really, there are no lies that I can conjure up for this boy and I am not the one to prescribe medicines to anyone. I do care about the welfare of people and know a lot of psychiatrists that hand out tablets like they’re sweets. I know the consequences that follow a misdiagnosis as well as an over-dose and I don’t want to bestow that burden upon myself.

Following the boy’s words about him applying for a job, it is obvious that he has his own life set out for himself. He is one of the anomalies in my services, somebody that actually has liable ambitions, an actual worthy career. Nothing like the ridiculous modelling jobs, party-throwing as well as obtaining signatures of well-known Capitiolites which a lot of clients have told me they wish to do as a career.

There is nothing I can do in my services to help the boy but instead assure his parents there is obviously nothing wrong with him. A well-written report will do just the job and hopefully, I will never see this lad in my office ever again. It seems like his parents are the ones who are in need of my skills, not him. ”I can tell you now, there is nothing wrong with you. You’re a typical teenage boy and it seems you have your life sorted out just fine. I will write a convincing report for your parents and hopefully, that will deter them from sending you here again.”

C H A N D L E R

Beginning to jab the point of the pen into the paper, I’d decide to get the report written up now, due to there being at least another thirty minutes left of this appointment. At least if I get it written now, this family will not bother me again from this day. Taking a sip of the coffee that sits beside the report, I’d commence with the writing. Filling in all the usual information, such as the lad’s name, the hour of the report; I’d squabble in all the additional data. Moving the pen to the large note section, I’d commence with the witty response for his parents to read.

For one whole hour, I conversed with Canus, discussing possible problems flagged from your letter. Despite losing him for a few moments in a daydreaming state (which I can assure you is typical for anyone of his age, especially during such meetings), there was nothing else that worried me about your son. It seems he is a clever well-behaved, misunderstood boy, who has his life planned out for himself. He informed me of an ambitious career with a well-known citizen it the Capitol, which I believe to be a brilliant career route. (He can discuss this further with you, if he wishes too.)

Canus is not at all any troubled delinquent; it seems he just has over-worrying parents. In future, I’d suggest you, yourself Mr Patricius Estuarian come to my office as it seems you have a spout of paranoia (with reference to your words in the letter.)

I diagnose Canus with OverProtectiveParents Syndrome, which needs no medication or further meetings.

Signing my name at the bottom of the report, a smile would flash on my face as I imagine his parents reading it. Handing Canus the report, I’d be ready to bid farewell to the lad, hoping it will not be a see you later.

”Hand that your parents, and you should be off the hook.” Rising from the desk, I’d head over to the door, opening for the lad. Ushering my hand to the exit, I’d signal him to leave. ”The hour is up. Nice too meet you Canus and I hope your parents get off your back. Farewell.”