There was a meeting. A woman was lecturing. She gave us papers and we tested ourselves on some language disorder (we didn't have it; we were counselors and needed to know about the new test). Rochelle whispered to me, "Shouldn't we ask her about her spinal disability?" I said, "No! Goodness, you know how you feel when people ask you personal questions." We argued. I then got a phone call. It was a client (Terrance). I answered the phone briskly. He stammered and said, "Never mind." I felt badly and tried to be supportive. He hung up. Rochelle and I continued to argue, so I went up to the lady and diplomatically asked her impersonal questions to find out if she had a spinal disease. She fielded it and never answered. I dropped it. I left. When I got down to the street, I looked up at the windows. Rochelle put signs and pictures indicating to the world that I was a bastard and an all together rotten person. I shrugged my shoulders but felt embarrassed, because the counselors would all see it. I decided it didn't matter. I went into building across street and into my room. Co-worker Tyler and other counselors were there. They had decorated my room with Xmas things. Tyler was smiling and saying, "2 years ago, we didn't have a chance to properly welcome you. So we're doing it now." It was pleasant.