Marcus slumped into his usual chair, his fingers drumming an agitated rhythm on the coffee shop table. "I just don't understand how they can be so..." He gestured sharply, searching for the right word.
"Frustrating?" Eleanor offered, settling into her seat with her tea.
"Blind," he finished, then caught himself. "No, that's not fair. They're not blind, they just... don't want to see." His voice carried the edge of someone who'd spent the morning hitting his head against a wall.
Sarah walked in then, notebook in hand, choosing her usual spot. Eleanor caught her eye and offered a warm smile before turning back to Marcus.
"Tell me more about what happened in the meeting," Eleanor said, her voice gentle but steady.
"It's like they're stuck in a loop. 'This is how we've always done it.' 'The old system works fine.' But it doesn't work fine – it hasn't worked fine for years." His words tumbled out faster now. "The data is right there. The problems are right there. How can they just...?" He made another frustrated gesture.
Eleanor let the moment settle. "You're really frustrated," she observed, not trying to fix or change it, just acknowledging what was there.
"Yes!" Marcus agreed emphatically, then deflated slightly. "And I know getting angry isn't helping, but..."
"But you care," Eleanor finished quietly.
Marcus stopped, something shifting in his expression. "What?"
"The frustration – it's there because you care, isn't it? About the work, about doing things better?"
Marcus was quiet for a moment, his hands wrapping around his coffee cup. "Yeah," he said finally, softer now. "I do. I care about getting this right. About not just going through the motions when we could be doing so much more." The anger had drained from his voice, replaced by something more vulnerable. "But I don't know how to help them see it."
Eleanor nodded. "It can feel helpless when we care deeply about something but can't seem to get others to understand." She paused. "Who do you think might be open to seeing what you see?"
Marcus started to say "no one," but stopped himself, considering. "Well... Lisa seemed to be following along when I was explaining the data. She asked some good questions. And Michael – he usually takes time to process things, but once he sees the evidence..." He trailed off, thinking. "I probably rushed through the presentation, honestly. I was so sure everyone would just... get it."
"Sometimes change takes time," Eleanor said softly. "Encountering resistance isn't always a sign to stop – it's just another signal offering information."
Marcus absorbed this, his posture softening slightly. "So maybe I need to..." He glanced at his watch and straightened suddenly. "Oh – I've got another meeting. But this... this helps. Thanks, Eleanor." He gathered his things, the frustrated energy from earlier transformed into something more thoughtful.
After he left, Sarah hesitated for a moment, then approached Eleanor's table. "Excuse me," she said, clutching her journal. "Are you... are you a therapist?"
Eleanor's smile was warm but accompanied by a small shake of her head. "No, I just sometimes find myself helping people listen to their emotions."
Sarah’s fingers tightened on her journal. "I've been... I couldn't help overhearing, the last couple times. About emotions being signals." She paused, gathering courage. "I'm feeling really frustrated too – with myself. Would you... would you maybe be willing to help me figure out what my emotions are saying?"
Eleanor's expression softened, and she gestured to the empty chair across from her. "Of course. Would you like to tell me about it?"