The telephone in his psychotherapy practice rang with the gentle insistence he had deliberately programmed so as not to startle himself out of composure between two demanding sessions.
Dr. Friedrich Weihenruh sat in his wood-paneled study, the scent of old paper and fresh Earl Grey hanging in the air. Outside, a light spring rain drummed against the windowpanes, casting a muted light across the walls of books. On the third ring, he picked up the receiver.
"Weihenruh, good afternoon."
At the other end of the line, a voice exploded, charged with the artificial energy of a triple espresso.
"A wonderful good afternoon, Dr. Weihenruh! Tobias Mahler from your Global Invest Bank speaking. I hope I'm not interrupting anything important?"
Tobias Mahler sat in a glass cage that his bank called an "open office." His suit pulled slightly across the shoulders — a symbol of the pressure bearing down on him.
Before him lay a printed script with yellow highlights. Perfect opening, he thought. Polite, open-ended question. He has to say 'No,' and just like that I've got my foot in the door. Commitment and consistency starts small.
Dr. Weihenruh stirred his tea with equanimity. "No, Mr. Mahler, you're not interrupting. I'm on a break at the moment. What brings you to me?"
Interesting, the psychologist reflected. The foot-in-the-door technique. A small 'yes' to the conversation paves the way for a bigger 'yes' to the product. Textbook.
"Splendid!" Mahler trilled. "Dr. Weihenruh, the reason for my call is a very special one. We currently have an opportunity that we are offering only to a very, very select circle of our best clients. Given your long-standing loyalty and your intelligent portfolio, I immediately thought of you. The product is practically calling your name: the DollarFlex TurboYield 3000!"
Right, time for the full broadside, Mahler rallied himself. Scarcity principle, flattery, and identification of the client with the product. He needs to feel like part of an elite.
Weihenruh smiled quietly into his teacup. "I see. So the product is calling my name? That sounds like either a projection on your part or an acoustic case of tinnitus on the product's part. You're invoking the scarcity principle to make it more desirable, and flattering me to weaken my rational defenses. Do tell me about this turbo vacuum cleaner — but without the advertising copy, if you would."
Silence. One could hear a faint rustling as Mahler's fingers trembled across his script, searching for the appropriate response. He found it under the heading: "Handling Smart Objections."
"Ha! Marvelous!" Mahler laughed a shade too loudly. "A sharp mind — that's precisely why I'm calling! You're absolutely right, these are proven communication strategies. But the substance remains true: it really is a limited tranche. It's a clever currency strategy. We're betting that the US dollar will remain within a stable corridor against the euro over the next twelve months. As long as it does, you receive an extraordinary return of up to 12 percent per annum!"
The number! The anchor! Mahler thought triumphantly. Twelve percent! That's the number now lodged in his brain. Next to that, his pathetic interest rates look positively geriatric. The anchoring heuristic never fails.
"Twelve percent," Weihenruh repeated slowly. "A most impressive anchor you're casting there. My brain is now filing that away as the reference point for 'good.' And now for the fine print, which I'm sure you were planning to mention only in passing: what happens when the dollar leaves this corridor? A product in which I stand to lose heavily in the worst case is about as risk-free as a Tinder date with a chainsaw collector, wouldn't you say?"
Mahler swallowed. The perspiration on his forehead felt cold. "That's… well, according to our top analysts, the probability is exceedingly low. Look, here's the historical chart going back to 2019."
He knew Weihenruh couldn't see it, but the gesture helped him stay on script. "Absolutely stable. You could practically take a spirit level to it."
"Ah, the good old framing effect," Weihenruh replied, amused. "You're showing me only the segment that looks favorable — rather like online dating, where you get the flattering headshot and only discover at the first meeting that the person keeps a ten-foot python as a pet. You're emphasizing the 95 percent probability of safety and not the 5 percent probability of catastrophic total loss. Walk me through the asymmetry, Mr. Mahler."
Mahler's confidence was crumbling. "Um, well, yes… the upside is capped at 12 percent. The downside… is leveraged. But Dr. Weihenruh, you're intelligent, reflective — an alpha investor! Clients like you understand: no return without a small, calculated risk!"
"The compliment trap, combined with an appeal to group identity," Weihenruh observed drily. "I'm not supposed to be the boring standard client but the smart one who gets it. Unfortunately, that only works on people who don't analyze ego strokes for a living. Next attempt?"
Damn! shot through Mahler's mind. He's dismantling me like an IKEA bookshelf. All right, Plan B: social proof.
"I understand your professional skepticism," he said, attempting to restore a measure of authority to his voice. "But our best clients are already in. Doctors, entrepreneurs, a retired notary…"
"Ah, social proof," Weihenruh interjected. "I'm supposed to think: if the dentist next door is risking his money, surely I can't afford to be left behind. But I have learned one thing in my life, Mr. Mahler: just because five people jump into the abyss together does not make it an Olympic team sport."
Mahler clung to his last straw: the emotional register. "And just imagine," he cooed, "six months from now you're sitting there with a glass of champagne, watching your money work for you, and you say to yourself: 'Thank God I went for it!' Do you really want to be standing there a year from now, feeling the regret of having missed this opportunity?"
"Visualization as an emotional amplifier, paired with loss aversion," Weihenruh analyzed. "Works beautifully on home shopping channels: 'Just imagine finally impressing your father-in-law with this miracle skillet!' Except that in your case, instead of a charred chicken breast, it's presumably my portfolio that gets flambéed. Human beings fear a loss more acutely than they enjoy an equivalent gain. You're painting me the agonizing picture of regret in order to push me toward an irrational decision."
Mahler was finished. His voice was barely a whisper. "Dr. Weihenruh… I really do just want to help you maximize your money. We're in the same boat, after all!"
"Fascinating," said Weihenruh. "Now you're trying the we're-all-in-this-together gambit to manufacture an artificial solidarity. But I'm afraid, Mr. Mahler, we are not in the same boat. I am sitting in a solid sailboat with a life vest and a clear heading. You, on the other hand, are standing on an inflatable flamingo stuffed with high-risk derivatives, trying not to capsize on the stormy ocean of global financial markets, while shouting over to me that the water is lovely."
A long, heavy silence followed at the other end of the line. Weihenruh heard a faint, stifled sound that resembled a sob. The banker's facade had not merely crumbled; it had disintegrated into dust.
Weihenruh's tone softened instantly, the analytical edge giving way to palpable compassion. "Tobias. May I call you Tobias?"
"Yes," the voice croaked.
"Tobias, how are you really doing?" Weihenruh asked gently.
The question struck the young man like a wave of relief. The pent-up despair broke out of him. "It is hell, Doctor," he whispered. "Every single day, this pressure. These pointless products that serve no one but the bank. My boss is breathing down my neck, the sales targets are absurd. I hate this job. I hate it."
"I believe you," Weihenruh said quietly. "That sounds like an enormous burden."
There was silence again for a moment. Then Mahler asked, in a voice that had almost no strength left: "But… Doctor… it could all work out, couldn't it?"
Weihenruh closed his eyes and considered the question for a moment.
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"You know, Tobias," he said at last, in a warm, almost paternal voice, "I do, in fact, have a highly speculative investment. A genuine high-risk venture. The leverage is enormous, the volatility extreme, and the future performance utterly unpredictable."
A spark of hope flickered in Mahler's voice. "Really? What kind? Perhaps we have something similar…"
"No, you don't," said Weihenruh, a faint smile playing at the corners of his mouth.
"My investment is my daughter's piano lessons and my son's soccer club. The return cannot be measured in percentages but in off-key notes and grass-stained jerseys. The emotional leverage is so high that a single smile from either of them renders every stock market gain worthless. And a total loss is so emotionally devastating as to be unimaginable."
He paused briefly to let the words settle.
"By comparison, Tobias," he concluded softly, "your DollarFlex TurboYield 3000 is an absolutely safe but, regrettably, utterly pointless investment. Invest your energy in something that yields a real return. For instance — in yourself."
At the other end of the line, there was nothing left but a quiet, deep breathing. The conversation was over. The flamingo drifted alone upon the ocean.
Dr. Friedrich Weihenruh is a literary alter ego through which the author gives narrative form to his experiences as a psychotherapist. The stories are based on true events but have been fictionalized: to protect privacy and professional confidentiality, names, locations, and details have been changed. Any resemblance to actual persons is entirely coincidental.
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