I Am Not a Bad Guy

I am not a bad guy. I am not a bad guy. I am not a bad guy. Why is she looking at me like that? Look at her stupid bitch face looking at me like it was my fault. Well, it wasn’t my fault.

“What do you want me to say? I didn’t mean for this to happen. I had nothing to do with this.” I responded sharply. I don’t even know why I booked this session.

She looked at me and blinked a few times looking confused. “Jeff, I am not here to judge you. I am on your team. I only asked if you could tell me what happened in your own words. I’ll phrase it differently, why did you decide to come to therapy today?”

I know it's her job to say that, I am paying her out of my own pocket. I just couldn’t have used one of the company’s psychiatrists. I have no idea if they communicate or not, plus I don’t want anyone from work to know about this or worst, the fucking press. I can feel my blood pressure rising. “I don’t know, have you read the news lately? Or maybe you are some kind of retard that can’t read? I’ll sum it up for you, over the past week every single news outlet has released an article where my company is the culprit for one of the worst environmental disasters of the century. Does that ring a bell, Margret?"

Well, that came out a bit harsh, even for me. I usually try not to be an absolute ass-wipe when I am talking to people who seem to want to help, but nobody’s perfect. I can’t say she looks too pleased though. God, her nostrils can get large. She looked up from her pen and paper after writing some probably disturbing notes about my temper. “Sir, let me make this perfectly clear. If you swear in my direction one more time this session will end immediately, and I will let you go as a client. I am on your team, not as a punching bag, but as an ally. As for what I saw in the news, I know what is going on, but I would like it from your point of view. You must be under a lot of pressure and stress as CEO maybe you could expand on that.”

I mean technically ‘retard’ isn’t a swear word. At least back in my day, what a fucking snowflake, you can’t say anything anymore. I sigh and begin my monologue regaining my composure “People think that CEOs make every little decision. We don’t, we focus on the numbers, the big-picture events. My job is to make sure shareholders are happy or else the board members will just vote me out. Back then ESG (environmental, social, governance) wasn’t even a real thing. I am not saying I knew this was happening, obviously, I didn’t. Some real scum bag would’ve made that decision way back when. Every large company that is over 100 years old has some skeletons in their closet, I assure you.”

“And how do you feel about the media's reaction?” Another question.

“Frustrated, a lot of heat on me. Meanwhile, I am the one who has single-handedly doubled our revenue over the past three years. For god's sake do you even know how hard this is on my family? The other kids at school threw literal shit at my daughter yesterday, literal shit! And my older ones have been getting death threats all over social media. I mean what the fuck is wrong with the world thinking it is acceptable to treat people like this, children! Cancel culture, love someone one day, hate them the next. It's neurotic!”

“I feel for you and your family. That kind of behavior and response should never be okay” she started on a probably pretty dragged out ‘teaching moment’.

*ring ring ring* Thank god, my phone interrupted her.

I look down “Oh shit, sorry that’s one of my shareholders, I’m going to have to cut this short. I need to get back to my laptop to take this meeting.” It’s not, it’s my girlfriend; I would have to get out now if I could make it back to my wife for dinner. I don’t meet Margret's eyes as start quickly packing up.

“I understand. I would like to say one more thing. I think you are very strong, and I know that we can start to make serious progress in the next meeting, really dive in. I will see you next week on Tuesday, Jeff.” Margret said with a thoughtful look on her face. Thank god she’s so old and tragic-looking, I would never take an attractive female therapist remotely seriously. I hurry out of the room and yell back “Ya, see you next week.”

I almost walk right past the receptionists. “Excuse me, you have to pay for your session Mr.” a male voice shouts out kindly. I turn around. As if, a male receptionist, have some respect for yourself, fag. I pull out my card and tap the screen. As I am tapping the screen, I let my eyes wander to the other female receptionist's breasts before I realize Margret had followed me out to pass me my sunglasses.

“Thank you, Margret.” I say in my most charming voice to impress the female receptionist. Margret smiles and I turn around and walk to my car because I can’t stare at the receptionist's tits in front of Margret. Old hag.

I once heard the phrase ‘never lie to your therapist’ I swear everyone does. In all due honesty, I made the decision to illegally dump billions of pollutants and toxins into the lake. I single-handedly exposed millions to carcinogenic chemicals leading to thousands developing life-terminating cancer. I haven’t thought about it for 11 years until today. Why do I suddenly feel this pain in my chest? Everyone in business has done something awful. Something they aren’t proud of. At least I’m not some kind of child molester, right? I just did one bad thing, but that doesn’t make me a bad person.

…Right?