Who would study psychology if they didn't have some kind of problem?

Chapter 459 The bosses' gazes towards Nan Zhuren were mostly similar

Nan Zhuren sized up the visitor.

The man appears to be in his thirties. He doesn't seem to take good care of his skin, but his skin is quite light, suggesting that he works mostly indoors.

Upon entering, the visitor looked Nan Zhuren up and down with an eye that Nan Zhuren found somewhat familiar.

As you can see, the other person's eyes lit up for a moment, and almost instinctively revealed an expression of appreciation and contemplation.

But then, as if remembering something, his expression shifted to a slightly skeptical scrutiny.

"The teacher looks even younger than she does on your website. I thought your photos were photoshopped..."

The visitor looked around the room and went straight to the two-seater sofa to sit down.

Bai Qinghua's company had significantly more online channels than Howard's team had before. On the third day after Nan Zhuren arrived, the department in charge of online channels had already created a personal homepage for Nan Zhuren.

The content included Nan Zhuren's academic qualifications, professional qualifications, areas of expertise in counseling and intervention, and also included a passport photo of Nan Zhuren.

Nan Zhuren roughly understood the meaning behind the visitor's words; it was nothing more than the usual skepticism of older visitors towards a young therapist's life experience. The visitor probably initially thought the photo on Nan Zhuren's homepage was edited and that she was actually older.

Nan Zhuren skipped the topic and said without changing his expression, "Hello, my surname is Nan, you can call me Teacher Nan."

The visitor had a "what's done is done" expression on his face: "My surname is Xue, and I now run my own company."

Nan Zhuren nodded: "Okay, Boss Xue."

"I understand, it's the boss." Nan Zhuren understood the meaning behind the other person's bright eyes earlier.

After the self-introduction process was over, the visitor exhaled.

"Well, how should I put it? My company isn't very big, and I manage most of the basic operations. So I often encounter problems, which leads to a backlog of things that I can't talk to others about."

"I've been feeling really stifled lately, so I'd like to try talking to a therapist."

The visitor asked cautiously, "This is a secret, right?"

Nan Zhuren replied, "Is this Mr. Xue's first time coming for psychological counseling?"

“Yes.” The visitor nodded. “I asked some of our clients, and your company has a very good reputation.”

Nan Zhuren nodded: "You must have signed an informed consent form before you came in, which includes a confidentiality agreement—meaning that no third person will know the content of our conversation today."

I don't know if it's trust in customers, trust in word of mouth, or if Nan Zhuren's calm and steady voice is indeed very convincing.

The visitor steadied his breathing and began his first words: "Actually, I don't just want to talk to someone. You can think of it as a consultation, Mr. Nan—I want to ask you if you know how to solve the problem of the person I'm about to talk to."

How can counseling help solve another person's problem?
Nan Zhuren raised an eyebrow in his mind; this was very similar to the opening line, "I have a friend."

but--

[A brief wrinkle of the nose and lowered eyebrows.]

[Chin protrudes forward, one corner of the mouth slightly tucked in.]

[It might be contempt, anxiety, or anger... in short, it reminded me of someone I really dislike.]

It seemed the visitor wasn't really talking about himself. He then licked his lips and said, "In my industry, there's a job called colorist. Our job is to adjust pigment formulas and mix the colors that clients want."

"The skill in this profession lies entirely in one's eyes. One must have a high sensitivity to color. The other part only requires a little elementary math knowledge, such as calculating the amount of ingredients in the sample recipe proportionally into the normal recipe."

Clearly, the conversation had touched on matters related to his profession, and the visitor began gesturing with both hands in front of his chest.

"This is a very niche job, and it's quite rare nowadays. Almost everyone in this profession learns through a mentor-apprentice system. It's so niche that you can't even find a college degree in it. The learning process involves spending every day in piles of paint, getting familiar with colors and their patterns. There are no textbooks; it's all basically done by 'gut feeling.'"

The visitor's eyes lit up briefly, but then returned to that feeling of contempt, anxiety, and anger.

“We recently hired a colorist who is only in his thirties, but he is said to have been apprenticing in eastern Guangdong since he was fifteen, so he should have nearly 20 years of experience. However, when he came, the first formula he made during the onboarding test had some… very outrageous mistakes!”

When the word "outrageous" was mentioned, the visitor gritted his teeth.

Now that we've entered the narrative part of the story, there's not much room for interruptions, nor is it really necessary.

Nan Zhuren leaned forward and nodded slightly as the visitor spoke, indicating that he understood the background story and playing the role of a good listener.

"During the onboarding test, we gave him a question: he had to mix a color. After calculation, he thought he needed to add a certain material to the shipping formula at 0.4 grams per 10 kilograms, which is 0.04 grams per kilogram. However, the worker in charge of color mixing misread it—also because the amount he wrote was very uncommon—and ended up producing some products at 0.4 grams per kilogram, which is 10 times the amount in his formula. In the end, the color looked barely correct, but during the formula registration process, when the two formulas were compared, it was discovered that they did not match."

The visitor gritted his teeth: "So we checked the draft sample formula he left behind."

[Stare wide-eyed, fixed on the distance.]

The eyebrows are lowered and gathered together.

[Okay, the contempt and anxiety have decreased; now it's almost entirely anger.]

"According to the calculation, the color we are mixing now is based on 0.4 grams per kilogram."

"But he didn't accept the calculation result of 0.4, so we started to argue. Because it was elementary school math, the verification was actually very quick, and then the interesting part happened."

At this point, the visitor's eyes widened.

"He first rejected the answer he obtained after step-by-step calculations, believing that there was a problem with the calculation process we guided him through."

"Then he wrote down a clearly incorrect calculation, filled in his answer of 0.04 at the end, and assumed that our color was made using a formula of 0.04 grams per kilogram!"

The visitor's tone became agitated, slapping his thigh with his left hand and gesturing in front of his chest with his right hand as if chopping vegetables.

"So we tried to reverse the process and deduce the corresponding amount that should have been added to his sample from his incorrect result of 0.04."

"As a result, just before he arrived at the final result, he repeated his previous actions, crossed out the calculation process we provided, and used his own calculation process to arrive at his own result."

"But what's interesting is that his results not only didn't match the correct results, but they also didn't match the data he left in the sample!"

The visitor took a deep breath; even when bringing up the past, he needed to calm himself down.

"So we pointed out the problem, and after thinking for a while, he continued—denying!"

The visitor looked on with amusement: "He changed his tune again, saying that the data he left in his previous draft was wrong, and that his current data is correct!"

(End of this chapter)