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She was incredibly frustrating to work with. She sat in her office while her patients completed exercises down the hall.  I worked with her for two years and never saw her open a book or ask another therapist for help. She rarely took time to think about how she provided patient care. The right to be a PT had been conferred upon her by the state of New York; she thought, somehow, that should be enough for her patients.

Her patients fell into two predictable groups: those that got better (because she made them better) and those that did not (because it was their fault).  Her patients understood her limitations more than she could; she would accuse other therapists of “stealing” her patients who would develop sudden “conflicts” with their personal schedules that prevented them from scheduling appointments on the two days per week she worked.

She had graduated from PT school in 2005 and was still practicing with the near-competency of an entry level clinician when she left for “greener pastures” in 2010.

While attending the same party today, she complained to me about her current employer, her third boss in four years. She is frustrated that she has not met an owner who “understands” her. She was especially upset when her boss recently asked her if PT was a hobby for her. “Can you believe that?’, she asked.

“Well, it is. Isn’t it?”

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