There's nothing proud about me

It wouldn't do to enquire too closely about the library service's mental well-being these days. To my knowledge there are four of us (including myself) going through courses of counselling sessions and the only reason I don't know whether or not at least another two are doing similar is that it's none of my damned business.

"I'll be in late tomorrow morning," I tell the Acq team, "I've got my next counselling session."

"Hope it goes well," says Noreen.

"I'll probably get sectioned," I reply, happily.

"Could we all get sectioned?" pipes up Betty. "It might be nice having some time in the madhouse."

"Too late, we're already here," replies Noreen, sadly.

Chatting to a colleague I mention this exchange. She laughs:

"Did I tell you what happened last week?"

"No, what?"

"T.Aldous asked me how my counselling sessions were going and I told him that things must be bad because last time the psychologist burst into tears part way through."

"What did he say to that?"

"He went white and I haven't seen or heard from him since."

Damn. I wish I'd thought of that!