Therapy needed

"Bob, could you come to my office for a minute?"

Bob approached the chief editor's office without much enthusiasm but with plenty of confidence. He knew that he had written more articles than most of his colleagues the last few months, and he knew that they usually were more accurate than the other articles. Still, the chief editor had a way of giving bad feedback much more often than good feedback, so he felt something was going on.

"Bob", the c.e. began, as soon as the door was closed and they both had sat down in the comfy sofa which usually was reserved for customers and information sources which had a high risk of going to jail for their disclosures.

"Bob", he continued, because he wanted to be sure that this part of the message came through. He was not trying to keep any distance to his employees, but addressed them by their first name - at least when other people were listening. As no one else was listening here, it was clear that he really meant "Bob" when he said so. He looked at Bob and thought about saying the name a third time, but he suddenly felt unsure if Bob preferred Robert or Bob, and decided against it.

"Not everything is perfect. I think you know that."

"Definitely. Just look at the weather."

Bob's attempt at a joke fell rather flat, as the weather indeed was perfect that particular day, with a clear sun that gave a beautiful spring light without any excessive heat.

"Yes... no... I was not thinking about that."

Bob remained quiet. So did the chief editor unfortunately, so there was an awkward pause.

"Bob, I have read your political column for quite some time now. It is very lucid."

"Thank you."

"Ehm... for what?"

"For saying that it was lucid."

"That was not meant to sound good."

"It was not?"

"Of course not. Who wants lucid opinions? You argue so convincingly and clearly, that no one can disagree."

"And...?"

"If no one disagrees, there won't be any debate."

"Ah..."

"Without debate, we will not have long article series where people throw insults at each other. People want insults. Not that they say so, of course. No one would admit it. But if there are insults, there is interest. People will raise as one man, and shout different opinions on the subject as a choir of ad revenue generating angels."

"Oh..."

"You just tell the truth. It is so incredibly boring with truth."

"My wife says the column is very well written."

"And she is bloody well right. Why on earth do you stick to so elegant prose?"

"Eh...?"

"People want to feel superior. They want to laugh at us journalists and our miserable prose. That makes them feel good."

"Oh...."

"Don't oh, eh and ah me, young man! I mean Robert. Eh.. Bob! Or Robert."

"Bob is fine. That is my real name."

"There we are again! 'Real name'! Try to be interesting! Lie a little to keep me interested, to start a discussion, a debate, an argument. Please, say something I can disagree with!"

"I am sorry, but I have a hard time to think of anything."

"I know you have, but why do you admit it? Spice it up. Pretend you have something. Oh, this is futile. You will go on a therapy from next week."

"Why? What kind of therapy?"

"There is a company that has specialised in removing perspicacity and lucidity from the minds of people. After a few sessions, you will lose most of your common sense, and soon you will be able to write outrageously interesting articles again."

"You must be joking."

"I am not, Bob. I hope you appreciate it."

"Oh, sod it!"

"Thank, you Bob."