The small, dimly lit office smells faintly of lavender. The ticking clock on the wall is the only sound cutting through the silence. Dr. Lawson, the psychiatrist, adjusts his glasses, looking across the room at his patient, Mark, who sits slouched in his chair, arms folded, a frustrated frown etched on his face.
Dr. Lawson: “So, Mark, you said you’ve been feeling like everything in the world revolves around money. Would you like to elaborate on that?”
Mark lets out a heavy sigh and shakes his head.
Mark: “It’s just ridiculous, doc. Everywhere I go, everything I see—it all comes down to money. I mean, I can’t enjoy a single thing without being reminded that it has a price. You can’t even breathe without paying for something.”
Dr. Lawson: “That sounds like it’s really bothering you. But money is part of how society functions. It’s a way we exchange value for services and goods. It’s not inherently bad; it’s just a system.”
Mark leans forward, eyes narrowing.
Mark: “Yeah, but that’s exactly my problem! Why does everything have to be exchanged for money? Relationships, conversations—hell, even this one! I’m paying you to listen to me. Doesn’t that seem messed up to you?”
Dr. Lawson smiles calmly, leaning back in his chair, his voice soft and measured.
Dr. Lawson: “I understand why it might seem frustrating. But think of it this way: people have skills and expertise. When someone like me provides a service, the payment isn’t just for the time we spend together, it’s for the years of training and experience that I can use to help you.”
Mark scoffs, his hand gripping the arm of the chair.
Mark: “Right. And in that logic, no one can help anyone without a price tag. It’s all so transactional. It’s like nothing has real value anymore unless there’s money attached.”
Dr. Lawson tilts his head thoughtfully.
Dr. Lawson: “It’s true that money is a significant part of life. But not everything revolves around it. Some things, like love, friendship, and creativity, can’t be bought. Sure, money facilitates certain aspects of life, but it doesn’t define everything.”
Mark rolls his eyes and gestures toward the desk.
Mark: “But isn’t that just idealistic? At the end of the day, even those friendships and loves are affected by money. You can’t avoid it. And here I am, paying to sit in this chair and hear you tell me that money’s not everything.”
There’s a brief pause. Dr. Lawson studies Mark, sensing the deep frustration in his voice.
Dr. Lawson: “I see your point, Mark. This conversation is part of my profession, and yes, there’s a cost involved. But think of it like this—what we’re doing here is more than just a financial transaction. It’s an exchange of ideas, of perspectives. You’re not just paying for time; you’re investing in yourself.”
Mark sits back, crossing his arms again, but his expression softens slightly.
Mark: “Investing in myself, huh? Still sounds like a sales pitch.”
Dr. Lawson: “Maybe, but it’s true. This process is meant to help you change your outlook, to shift the way you see the world. And that’s something that, if it works, can be priceless.”
Mark stares out the window, the weight of the world seeming to settle in his eyes.
Mark: “But why can’t things just be… free? Like, why does every little thing in life have to have a cost? Even self-improvement?”
Dr. Lawson takes a deep breath, his tone more gentle now.
Dr. Lawson: “Because time, effort, and resources all have value. Nothing in life is truly free because everything requires something in return. Even in nature, there’s a kind of exchange—plants give oxygen, animals take it, ecosystems balance. It’s a natural part of the world.”
Mark chuckles dryly.
Mark: “So you’re saying the universe is just one big business transaction?”
Dr. Lawson smiles softly.
Dr. Lawson: “In a way, perhaps. But the key is to not let that idea consume you. Money, transactions—they’re part of life, yes. But they don’t define your value or the value of your experiences. You’re here, talking to me, because you’re seeking something deeper, beyond just the price of the session.”
Mark nods slowly, a trace of resignation in his voice.
Mark: “And I’ll still have to pay for this hour, won’t I?”
Dr. Lawson: smiling “That’s the cost, but the value is what you take away from it.”
Mark’s lips curl into a reluctant smile as he glances at the clock. The conversation isn’t over, but something inside him feels lighter. Maybe, he thinks, there’s more to value than what’s written on the bill.