The Severance Package

The room was sparse and cool. Two windows were shaded with Venetian blinds on the opposite wall from the heavy wooden door. A small square window in the door at about eye-level looked back into the equally sparse hallway. The walls in the room were dingy off-white, the ceiling a drop-down with similarly coloured tiles, and the floor was tiled possibly three decades before and showed some wear. The room reminded Fred of a classroom from his high school years.

In the centre of the room stood the heavy metal desk with brushed steel legs, beige painted steel panels and heavy wooden top. In front were two old armchairs, their orange colour faded by years of use. Fred sat in the chair on the right. He always preferred to sit in the right chair at a table, sleep on the right side of a bed, or walk on the right side of a sidewalk. No particular reason, he just preferred the right.

From his left front shirt pocket he removed the cigarette pack. He then proceeded to remove a cigarette and light it with his green lighter. Fred liked green. It was the colour of his eyes.

“There's no smoking in here Fred,” said The Doc. “This office has been smoke-free for years.”

Fred annoyingly dropped the cigarette to the floor and crushed it under his shoe.

“Fred, this is the second time you've been here to see me, and it's the same reason as the first. Verbally harassing a female co-worker. D'you wanna tell me why you made inappropriate comments to a female co-worker, Fred?”

He shook his head.

“Nope,” said Fred.

The Doc sat back in his chair, staring at Fred, a look of indifference on his face. He then leaned forward and opened a drawer in his metal desk and removed a piece of ruled paper; the kind of paper kids would use in school. From a desk caddy he grabbed a pen, then with the paper, slid them across the desk in front of Fred.

“I want to try an exercise,” said The Doc. “I want you to list your top three priorities.”

Fred wrote on the paper me, myself, and I. He grinned at his cleverness and slid the paper back across the desk. The Doc continued his look of indifference while a clock on the wall above the door counted the seconds with an audible 'tick', ‘tick’, ‘tick’. He then quickly changed his expression to one of curiosity, furrowing his brow and causing his eyebrows to reach for one another across the bridge of his nose, but never touching.

“Why do you smoke, Fred?” The Doc asked.

“Is that even relevant?” Fred asked in return.

“It should be. You've shown me here, in your list of priorities that you consider yourself most important in your life. If this were true, don't you think you would prefer not to smoke? To protect “number one” and keep him healthy” he made quotes in the air as he said “number one.”

Fred was confused. He'd never thought of his smoking that way before.

“And this harassing a co-worker thing,” The Doc continued. “Don't you think that in the interest of what's best for number one, you wouldn't do that sort of thing. All it gains you is a missed day of work and a talk with me. Wouldn't you rather have a day’s wages than to talk with me?”

Fred understood what the Doc was saying, and it sounded logical; it sounded convincing.

“Fred, I want you to spend this week thinking about things that you consider to be harmful to “number one” and I want you to write a list of what you come up with.”

From his desk, The Doc produced a notebook of ruled paper.

“I want you to take this home with you and meet me here again next Tuesday. Can you do that, Fred?”

Fred nodded.

“Yes,” Fred said, then picked up the notebook and left The Doc's office.

-----

The following Tuesday, Fred returned. As before he sat down in front of The Doc in the right chair. Fred's front shirt pocket was limp, lacking the cigarette pack that kept the material stretched tight.

“Welcome back, Fred. I see you've lost the pack.”

Fred smiled and nodded.

''Yes I have. Cold turkey. The cravings are excruciating.”

“Do you have the assignment I asked of you?”asked the Doc.

“I do,” Fred then retrieved the notebook from his briefcase. He slid the notebook across the desk in front of The Doc who then picked it up and thumbed it open to the first page.

“Very good, Fred. Though I'm confused about something. Why is exercise on your list?”

“That's the lack of,” corrected Fred. “I started running. Like I did in high school. Not exercising was harmful to “number one”.”

The Doc smiled a big broad smile.

“I'm impressed,” he said. “You've done better than I expected. Just make sure to check with your physician how much physical activity you can handle. I don't want to be incorrectly blamed if something should happen to you.”

Fred grinned and made a short laugh.

“Sure thing Doc.”

The Doc sat back in his chair as his smile began to fade. The same look of curiosity came over his face as he picked up the notebook again.

“Fred, a lot of what we do is because of habits we've formed. Deciding to run is a good thing, but old habits might come knocking and start to draw you away from the progress you’ve made.”

The Doc closed the notebook and slid it back across the desk.

“This week, Fred, I want you to write down the habits that you think may cause you to take up smoking again, or to stop you from running, and find ways to avoid these habits. And I want you to try new things. If you normally drink coffee, try tea this week. If you like ham sandwiches, try chicken.”

“OK, Doc. I can do that,” Fred said. Then he picked up the notebook from off the desk and left.

-----

On the third Tuesday Fred was again back in The Doc's office. This time though he sat in the left chair.

“Welcome back, Fred. How was this past week?”

Fred placed the notebook on the desk and slid across.

“Fine thanks,” said Fred.

The Doc opened the notebook once again and proceeded to read some of the habits Fred had written down.

“Fred, I notice you have opposites written down here. What do you mean by opposites?”

“I decided that trying opposites was a good way of changing habits as well as a way to try new things. You know, kill two birds with one stone.”

“Very good!” said The Dock, his face awash with excitement as his eyebrows reached for his hairline. “I'm impressed, Fred. That's some great thinking.”

He then placed the notebook back on the desk and sat back in his chair. The Doc then rested his elbows on the armrests of his desk chair and steepled his fingers as a look of contemplation fell on his face.

“There's one more thing I should get you to do,” decided the Doc. “I want you to take care of one other thing this week before we meet for our last session next week. I want you to find individuals in your life that you have wronged, including your female co-worker, and apologize to them. Can you do that?”

“Sure, Doc. I can do that,” Fred said. Then he picked up the notebook from off the desk and left The Doc and the office.

-----

The following Tuesday, the fourth and final Tuesday, Fred returned to The Doc's office. He entered the room and sat in the chair on the right and the familiar bulge of a cigarette pack was back in Fred's shirt pocket.

The Doc looked disappointed.

“What happened, Fred? Why are you smoking again? You almost made it a month.”

“I tried Doc; I tried to apologize to all the people I could think of that I'd done wrong. The mailman, the cashier at the grocery store checkout, even my co-worker, but it's too hard. I thought I needed to change myself in order to look out for “number one” until I thought of changing something different.”

Fred slid the notebook across the desk, prompting The Doc to open it. In it, The Doc found a new priority list; one that again included me, myself, and I.

“I like smoking,” Fred continued. “I don't like running, I like sleeping on the right side of the bed, I like being inappropriate at the office and seeing people’s reactions. I don't want to change those things, but I can change my priorities. And if this job doesn't allow me to do the things that I like to do, then maybe it's time I quit!”

Fred then removed a cigarette from the pack in his shirt pocket, lit it with the familiar green lighter and walked out the door, closing it loudly behind him.

The Doc sat at his desk with a look of indifference on his face. He turned to the page in the notebook after Fred's new priority list and found a letter of resignation. He then picked up the phone and made a call.

“Hello,” the Boss answered on the other end of the line.

“It's done,” said the Doc.

“Did you get it?” asked the Boss.

“Yes I got the letter of resignation.”

The Boss made a sound of relief.

“I was getting worried, Doc. It normally doesn't take four sessions for you to break these guys. You must be slipping.”

The Doc knew he wasn't slipping. Fred was different. He must have wanted to change, but in the end, pride kept him from following through.

“So you don't have to pay him severance, and I get paid.”

“Absolutely,” said the Boss. “You did your job.”

A moment of silence passed between the two men.

“Hey, listen,” the Boss continued. “I have this employee who is.... well, you know. Do you think you can help?”

“Sure,” said the Doc. “You know my price.”

“Of course,” said the Boss. “A severance worth of money.”