I posted this in another thread, on fees. But I think it deserves its own thread.

Check this out. It is written by a therapist for other therapists.

I think the author makes good points. I agree with him on much of it and I think he was brave to speak up honestly about the fee and about insurance. I also think he comes across like an arrogant prick at times in the article.

The Cult of DSM

Excerpts:

My starting rate is $140 per hour. What exactly is it that justifies that rate? My masters and PhD degrees didn’t cost me anything like what a medical degree costs. My malpractice insurance is well under $500 a year. My equipment consists of a couple of chairs, a couch, a clock, and a box of Kleenex. What justifies my rate is the fact that the market will bear it, . . .

You’ve probably already worked out a method for determining a rate. You may use an income-based scale. Or maybe you state your fee and then ask a client how much he or she can afford to pay. A surprising number of people give an answer that seems fair. However, as I discovered when a man with a modest-paying job who’d negotiated a 40-percent reduction let it slip that a rich uncle had given him millions of dollars, you can get hosed. When this method fails—often because the client doesn’t know where to begin—I sometimes ask what kind of car he or she drives and what the payment is. Kia drivers pay less than BMW drivers. Or you can ask how much money they spend every week at happy hour.

I manage to average around $95 per hour. Many doctoral-level professionals make more money than that. But, on the other hand, most people make far less for doing work that’s much harder than sitting still and listening to unhappy people.

I once saw a woman who worked as an escort, the kind who charges men for the girlfriend experience. I challenged her choice of professions, and she responded by suggesting that our jobs weren’t all that different. Her hourly rate, she told me with some relish, was higher than mine (and speaking of sliding scales, when I discovered what her fee was, I raised mine to match it). The conversation forced the subject of money to the surface. It also gave us the chance to talk about the critical difference between us: that, among other things, she was paying me not to have sex with her. Most importantly, however, by bringing to light the disturbing fact that we were both in the business of renting out love, it forced us to pay attention to what exactly our relationship was about, why she had the need she did, and what she could do to make it possible to fulfill it without paying for the privilege.

What do you think?