Ye who dare to late-cancel !

I’ve never used this blog as a pure “ventilation” medium before, but this may be a good time to do it. I think the most powerful self-restraint I’ve had to exercise – other than suppressing confrontations with my wife over years of nightly piles of dirty dishes – has targeted clients who late-cancel their appointment. I feel more chest-constricting rage over them than I typically do over no-shows. Those reprobates will do it once then disappear – quit or fired – as their faith was always bad; or I’ll text them ten minutes into their hour and will receive a startled apology – “I goofed!” But these previous-night same-morning blandly delivered cancellations, generally by relatively new or regular clients, vitiate my days and my income time and again, over and over. They may be people who think I’m on salary, don’t realize that a wasted hour is poverty. Monday, nine clients in succession kept their appointments. Tuesday, five cancelled, leaving me a very pathetic lazy day. My love for Monday does absolutely nothing to balance my hate for Tuesday.

Part of my frustration is that any given individual may adopt the tradition of canceling, though will space out the deed just widely enough to soften the blow. But not really. Another part is that I perceive these individuals as disrespectful, even as degrading me. I know that is my “inner child” feeling. Unfortunately, it’s the only one I have. The Wise Mind knows they weren’t thinking of me at all, so how could they have been purposely disrespectful? These fair-weather clients are just living their own lives. Result is: It’s enraging to have nothing legitimate to rage about.

Plus – and here is the insane part: One client cancelling is no big deal. He or she doesn’t know that another, or two more, or three or four others may have delivered their Ne Pas RSVP for the same day. My fury is based on the impression of singularity, of a gang assault, when there was merely an adventitious accumulation!

I do engineer some revenge as often as possible. Clients will no longer be permitted to schedule through the front office: I have prevented it! They must text me personally. Now, this only works as revenge if they feel the burn, if they feel the contempt of my demeaning assumption that they are likely to try to sneak in behind my back and mess up again. No, smirking punk, you must go through The Man.

A more severe response is this text message: “Suggesting you call on the day and time you want to come in, when you know there is (transportation available, no conflicting appointment, etc.), and I will see if that hour is available. Will no longer be able to schedule in advance.” Notice my strategic cowardice, where I don’t say “I will no longer be able” or “You will no longer be able to schedule in advance.” It’s just that it will no longer be!

It has been written that therapists as a group are squeamish to talk about money. It’s a fault, and it is true of me. I practically blush to hand someone a payment voucher after front desk staff has gone home. But I am not squeamish to grow righteously apoplectic in my chair and send you vibes of misery for rejecting my help. “May your diagnosis never abate!” “May you feel like a regretful idiot without your therapist!” “May you be lost and lonely without . . . me!” This is my strength and my self-esteem.

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Addendum: Do you really have a good reason to cancel here and there, today, two weeks from now? Or do you live in a cloud of defiance or resistance to obligation, to yourself, humming along the outskirts of seriousness for the remainder of your days? Poop!