I tend to be a fairly anxious person. This is not really a problem, per se. However, during a time in college I decided that it was and thought it best to seek treatment. The Catch-22 here is that an individual suffering from anxiety is really the last person on earth who should be choosing the proper person to help treat their anxiety. I, for example, picked up the Yellow Pages and scrolled down to the most German-sounding name I could find. Let’s call him Dr. V. During our first visit, Dr. V informed me that I should return the following week to complete the MMPI-2, a personality inventory commonly used for diagnosis in the mental health field. (“Read the following statement and check the box that most applies: I feel that strangers are following me. Strongly agree, Somewhat agree, Disagree, Not Sure…”) During our next visit he told me that I suffered from moderate anxiety and he prescribed something. During our three or four subsequent visits we looked back and forth between each other and the clock uncomfortably and then I got the hell out of Dodge the second the 50 minutes were up. So that was that.
A couple of years later I started thinking about Dr. V. I called to request my records and after several messages left unreturned, I finally caught him on the phone. He was extremely uncooperative, almost to the point of being hostile. He told me that he would charge me his normal hourly rate to photocopy the records. I told him that I thought that to be both unreasonable and illegal and he responded, “Vhat?! Vhat do you vant to know? I remember zees test vell. It told me jou are a VERY competitive lesbian!” To which I replied, “Um, what? Perhaps you are thinking of a different patient. And I don’t think the MMPI diagnoses lesbianism.” “NO! YOU! Competitive lesbian!” Click. So that was that.
Alas, I did not get the records. 10 years later I am still entirely heterosexual and I have often marveled at my slacker-like qualities. The fact that I did not report the incident speaks to that. I just Googled Dr. V and I see that his license was revoked in 2003 for “unprofessional conduct”. I wonder if he opened his Can of Competitive Lesbian Whoopass on the wrong girl.