A couple of years ago in honor of my birthday, I decided to treat myself to a session in which the professional involved would tell me as much as they could about myself on the basis of certain facts about me. The cost for this service was very low due to being members of the same community. They would charge me less than half of what I could expect to pay for a comparable experience. It seemed more than worth it.
I answered all the questions in advance that they asked of me and showed up on time on the day of. The well-appointed studio sat in a lovely conveniently located structure. It boded well.
No sooner had the professional greeted and seated me when I started to get a prickly feeling on the back of my neck. They started to lay out their analysis of me based on the facts given. Immediately they diverged from what one might call an objective sounding report based on some agreed upon criteria that I matched with and strayed into what sounded an awful lot like a lecture about what I must do in order to improve my circumstances and turn my life around.
Since I had spent a great deal of time (some might say too much) improving myself prior to that point, I was not unfamiliar with the kinds of deficiencies they were identifying. Indeed, I might even have agreed that many of the weak points spotted were correctly spotted had they stopped to ask me. But they didn’t. Instead, on they barreled, speaking faster and faster, advising me in the clearest of terms more and more of what I absolutely must start or stop doing in order to rise above my identified flaws.
Again, had I asked this professional for this sort of advice, I might have been more interested in this litany. But I hadn’t. I had asked for my personality type, NOT advice on what to do about it. There’s a big difference. To me, at least.
Anyway around this time my whole system informed me that it was time to skedaddle. First of all, it had been close to an hour, which was my actual planned time of departure. Secondly, I checked in with myself and this wasn’t a case of me just trying to escape hearing feedback which I badly needed to receive. Instead, it was a case of stuff I already very much knew and owned about myself, that I was already taking appropriate action on, and that I hadn’t asked to hear more of. So I stood up.
At that point my counselor looked alarmed and asked “where are you going? what are you doing?” I replied simply, “I need to leave, so I’m leaving.” They said, “well I haven’t finished. I have a lot more to tell you and…” [here’s the key part] “…you only paid me $X. I am giving you much more than your money’s worth.”
At this, a chill shoots up my spine. I stand up again this time and this time I really leave. I realized in that flash that them what say “there ain’t no free” were sure right. This person had claimed that I was only paying them X dollars. But the person lied. The hidden cost was MY time in captivity with them and their advice. This person so desperately wanted a captive audience that they were willing to sharply discount their services to lure someone in. Not since a time share brunch in Puerta Vallarta circa 1987 had I been so bamboozled (and at least that time involved mimosas and bacon).
Shortly thereafter, I became very grateful for the experience because it taught me unforgetably what I had refused to lose elsewhere: 1) That if something seems too good to be true, it probably is and2) That if I really want people to get the most out of a session, I need to charge what its really worth.3) That if I want someone to really value my own services, I needed to charge them as much as I possibly could. The more people pay, the more people value what they receive and all the other hidden agendas can fade away.
