The (Un)Therapists

Tim

e was when you were falling behind at work or arguing too much with your spouse, you called your mom or dad for advice. If they couldn't help, you probably talked out your troubles with a friend. If you lived in a metropolitan area (and had decent insurance), you might have gone to a therapist to sort out the underlying conflicts. But you wouldn't have hired a coach. Those were the guys in sweat pants with whistles dangling around their necks. They concerned themselves with motivating kids on the soccer field or perhaps toning the flabby thighs of office workers at the gym.

But why should the athletically inclined get all the attention? More and more folks are finding that nothing beats having your own personal Bela Karolyi to help negotiate the balance beams and uneven bars of life. Need help finding a new career? Wondering when to have sex with your new love interest? In a quandary over what to serve at a hastily arranged dinner party? No question is too vexing to take up with your coach.

Coaching is an action-oriented partnership that, unlike psychotherapy, which delves into patterns of the past, concentrates on where you are today and how you can reach your goals. An estimated 10,000 people from every imaginable professional background now call themselves coaches--twice the number there were in 1998. Some 4,000 would-be coaches are enrolled in a telephone-based training program called Coach U, which takes about two years and $4,300 to complete. And the field is benefiting from the Oprah effect. When her talk show last spring featured coach Cheryl Richardson (author of the best seller Take Time for Your Life), who conducted "lifestyle makeovers" on the air, the Coach U phones lighted up.

So how does coaching work? For starters, coaches typically do not meet with clients in person. Thirty- to 45-minute weekly sessions are usually conducted by telephone, with e-mail exchanges in between, if needed. Sessions tend to cost anywhere from $250 to $500 a month and are not covered by insurance. Coaches insist they stay more focused on the phone and are often better listeners than friends and family can be. "Without realizing it, people close to you may have their own agendas for you," said Ann Fisher, based in Illinois, who left a magazine-publishing job to become a coach.

Often coaches assign homework to be done between calls. If someone is having trouble managing finances, he might be asked to keep a diary of expenses. If a salesperson is seeking to improve performance, she might have to make a set number of cold calls that week. Burned-out overachievers may be advised to "get a massage or lie in a hammock for an hour," reports Lynn Nodland, a coach in Excelsior, Minn.

Judy Melvin, a professor in Phoenix, Ariz., who hired a coach at a friend's urging, credits coaching with turning her life around. Melvin, 46 and single, has lost 40 lbs., joined a dating service and is better organized on the job. "My coach holds me accountable," she says. Ann Somerset of Gaithersburg, Md., claims the clarity she gained from her coach enabled her to win a squeaker race for city council last year. He even helped her choose outfits.

The field seems to be prospering precisely because it is not therapy. "We're not interested in looking at the past or knowing why you're facing a certain obstacle," says Marcia Reynolds, president of the International Coach Federation, a group that accredits coaches. "We're here to help you get over it and move on." Indeed, fed up with managed care and the constraints of holding sessions at the office, some therapists are throwing out their couches to become coaches. Last month 75 counselors paid $145 apiece to gather in a Columbus, Ohio, hotel to hear coach Ben Dean, a trained psychologist, talk about the virtues of becoming a coach. "Coaching is a train that's leaving the station with or without us," he said. "It lets us stay involved in helping good people make transformative change but thankfully takes the health-care dollar out of the picture."

Of course, coaches don't have all the answers. Renee Kosiarek, 27, a law-school instructor from Oak Park, Ill., started a business last spring called DBS Coaching. DBS stands for dream, believe and succeed. Now she's questioning the decision. "I'm trying to figure out whether I want to continue the business," she says. "It's a decision my own coach is helping me with."