Therapist from the Twilight Zone
by Still Looking
My wife and I picked a marriage counselor from our insurance list. When we got there, the office was behind a dilapidated house, with weeds all over the place and a rusty car near the garage. We knocked on the back door and heard a large dog inside. The “office” was a back room with only a curtain across the doorway, and we could hear people on the other side. The therapist himself was strange: poorly dressed. That’s when my wife said “I think we’ve made a mistake.” And we left, and looked for a real therapist.
The lesson: make sure the therapist is reputable.