“Young man, sit down please. Yes you may put your feet up, just relax and tell me a little bit about yourself.”
I have no formal qualifications; I have a Master Degree in Clothing Design from some unremembered polytechnic down south. My mother and many others often told me that I have a way with people so I ended up being a councilor for troubled people rather than a clothier which I was trained to be. So much for educational establishment! Good job and plenty of money for sitting in a chair and asking “what do you think problem is”, whilst I send endless text messages to my friends.
I have until recently been mostly involved with those who have some sort of sexual identity problem, not because I have any special expertise in matter (I am assured of my own position in life) but because I am never short of patients. So many people in world suffer problems over who’ they are that by simply putting up a sign outside my doors that says “Sex Councilor” I have queues awaiting my attention day after day after day. But constantly asking same question of “and do you prefer boys or girls” to crying teenagers has worn me down and led me to consider a serious change in my career path.
This change actually plonked itself unceremoniously on my doorstep one fine morning under guise of a Sunday Newspaper. An article about Mobile Phone Disorder (MPD) sprung out at me and immediately got my brain free of typical morning fog that usually surrounds it. MPD is supposedly new addiction of 21st century. Teenagers and adults alike are becoming addicted to using mobile phones and art of sending text messages. In fact article suggested that many users are resorting to theft to finance their high telephone bills, that families cannot communicate unless they send text messages to each other and that many children are becoming serious recluses, unable to deal with life and who have totally shrunk inside of themselves.
I took that article aside. I got out my mobile phone and sent a few texts around world to some unseen text friends and they all confirmed this latest addiction. I ‘text’d well into night till I was too tired to move my thumb anymore and I just dropped off into a deep sleep at kitchen table with my mobile phone continuing to beep rest of night away.
The next morning after having dealt with a load of delayed messages on my phone, I visited local sign-maker and got him to change my plaque that had pride of place outside my front door. By lunchtime my new sign was ready and fitted and it read “Mobile Phone Disorders Treated Here”. My new career was well on way. The rest of afternoon I spent behind locked doors, whilst I sent endless messages to my previous patients in old sex category stating that I was no longer in business (unless they also suffered from MPD). At nine O’clock next morning I was busy with my first customer – a fully fledged victim of latest addiction to afflict our planet.