When I was younger – and I mean from teeanger hood all the way until about three years ago – I was a ‘nice guy’.
And I said the same thing as every other nice guy, which is “I am a nice guy, how come girls don’t like me?
This topic is personally enraging to me and I don’t promise I can treat it fairly.] I recently had a patient, a black guy from the worst part of Detroit, let’s call him Dan, who was telling me of his woes.
He came from a really crappy family with a lot of problems, but he was trying really hard to make good.
I’m hard-working, I’ve never missed a day of work until now, I’ve always given a hundred and ten percent.” By even asking that question, you prove that you think of bosses as giant bags of money, rather than as individual human beings who are allowed to make their own choices.No one “owes” you money just because you say you “work hard”, and by complaining about this you’re proving you’re not a hard worker at all.But for me it looked more like the story of a psychiatrist from an upper-middle-class background suddenly realizing how dysfunctional and screwed-up a lot of his patients are and having his mind recoil in horror from the fact – which is something I can sympathize with.Henry was the worst of a bad bunch, but nowhere near unique.