The Right Thing

Sunday, November 08, 2026

Is it wrong to retrieve your own package?

Is it wrong to retrieve a package meant for you from a neighbor’s porch without their permission?

I spent part of this morning walking around my neighborhood looking for a package meant for the woman I’d eat bees for. It had been delivered to the wrong house. I had a clue where it might be since the deliverer had sent her a text with a photo announcing that it had been delivered along with a photo of a small box sitting in front of a doorway that looked nothing like ours. Still, the door was distinctive enough that I could rule out all the dark wooden doors in the neighborhood and look for one that was white with two rectangular designs on it.

It’s not uncommon for us to receive other people’s packages or them to receive ours. Some of it has to do with the house behind us being on a different street but having the same house number. Other times, there’s no explanation for the misdeliveries.

We’ve thought nothing of retrieving a package from a neighbor’s porch if it was clearly addressed to us. Legally, the package is our property. I’m not a legal expert on property rights, but going up on someone’s porch to retrieve a package might be considered trespassing. Still, it had never been an issue for us or our neighbors to redistribute misdelivered packages. Occasionally, if I’m doing the redelivery I’ll knock on someone’s door to tell them they have a package, but often as not I just leave the package. A few times, a neighbor who saw me through their window doing this will thank me later in the day if they see me in my yard. I’ve met a few neighbors I hadn’t known this way.

This morning, it was still dark outside when I made my rounds, but I could still make out which houses had white doors. In the past, I wouldn’t have hesitated. Lately, there have been occasional posts on our neighborhood social media websites of doorbell cameras catching porch pirates who have allegedly stolen packages. Typically, the posts seem to be a warning to look out for the person taking the packages.

Given the recent proliferation of these porch pirate posts, was it wrong for me to continue to search for and retrieve packages meant for us but misdelivered?

That I might get mistaken for a porch pirate doesn’t make my or my neighbors’ practice of retrieving or redistributing misdelivered packages any wronger than it used to be. Riskier? Perhaps. Nevertheless, it still feels like helping to get misdelivered packages to their rightful owners is the right thing to do. One of those neighbors who once thanked me later in the day mentioned that the package I redelivered to her house four doors down contained baby formula, so that seemed a good thing for her to have for her child.

The invention of the doorbell camera and the proliferation of neighborhood social media sites won’t change my belief that my semi-regular practice is the right thing to do whether retrieving or redelivering.

Better yet, delivery services could take more care getting packages to the right address. They could also stop heaving packages onto porches from sizable distances. Those videos end up on neighborhood social media sites as well.

Jeffrey L. Seglin, author of The Simple Art of Business Etiquette: How to Rise to the Top by Playing Nice, is a senior lecturer in public policy and director of the communications program at Harvard's Kennedy School. He is also the administrator of www.jeffreyseglin.com, a blog focused on ethical issues.

Do you have ethical questions that you need to have answered? Send them to jeffreyseglin@gmail.com.

Follow him on Twitter @jseglin.

Sunday, November 01, 2026

Has rudeness become more acceptable?

Has it become more socially acceptable to be rude to others?

Over the past couple of decades, I’ve written columns about treating other people with respect, even when we disagree. It's hard not to notice how much coarser public discourse has become.

In May, for example, a Washington Post analysis by Cleve R. Wootson Jr., Clara Ence Morse, Lydia Sidhom, and Eric Lau found that roughly 93% of President Donald Trump’s speeches during his second term contained at least one vulgar term, compared with about 40% during the first year and a half of his first term. The number of his vulgar or insulting social media posts had roughly tripled.

A Reuters/Ipsos poll in April found that only 26% of U.S. adults considered Trump to be “even-tempered.” Does his combative style strike some as a virtue rather than a flaw? The poll doesn’t tell us whether Americans have become more accepting of rudeness. But it does make me wonder what we’re willing to overlook in people we admire.

Sometimes we feel the need to say things other people don’t want to hear. But being candid doesn’t require being cruel. I’m not convinced that speaking without a filter makes someone more honest. Insulting another person doesn’t strike me as a sign of strength.

I’ve written about variations of this issue before. In September 2007, I wrote about the responsibility we have when we see someone behaving badly in the workplace. In June 2008, I wrote about a dinner-party guest whose verbal attack on the host turned bad manners into an ethical question. Neither column suggested we must agree with everyone or avoid difficult conversations. We don’t. But how we treat people, even when they annoy us, matters.

In “Is Your Authentic Self a Jerk?” I asked whether being “authentic” was a good excuse for being dismissive or unpleasant. And in “When Should We Correct Someone?” I considered the importance of listening rather than always trying to get the last word.

We sometimes confuse being direct with being mean. It’s OK to praise people for being direct. But when directness becomes a way to hurl an insult or humiliate someone, praise seems less warranted. We’re too quick to excuse this behavior when it comes from someone we like or agree with. We can challenge bad behavior without making a personal attack.

It can be too tempting to follow the behavior of high-profile figures we admire. But in spite of admiring someone, we should be able to recognize and call out when someone has crossed a line in their behavior, even if we agree with a point they are trying to make.

We can't control how public figures speak. But we can decide how we treat one another. The next time we’re tempted to put someone down, we can ask ourselves: Am I trying to make a point, or am I just trying to make that person feel small?

When rudeness is mistaken for strength, remembering that distinction may be the right thing to do.

Sunday, October 25, 2026

When protest hits home

An old friend has told me he feels obligated to protest loudly, and with others, if he believes the government is doing something wrong. He’s also told me he is not willing to be arrested while doing so.

His two desires, protesting and avoiding arrest, could at times present a challenge.

He, just like other U.S. citizens, has the right under the First Amendment to the Constitution to speak and assemble peacefully. Protest has been and continues to be part of American democracy. There is a long list of people who have marched, picketed, and demonstrated to challenge government policies as well as those who make them.

Does that mean we have the right to protest wherever we want? Federal law makes it a crime to picket or parade near the residence of a federal judge, including a Supreme Court justice, when the purpose is to influence the judge in the discharge of the judge’s duties or to interfere with the administration of justice. Violations can result in a fine, imprisonment of up to a year, or both. Not everyone protesting near a federal judge’s home will necessarily be arrested (intent behind the protest matters), but there’s a chance they could be.

Even if the protest is legal, is it always ethical?

In 2022, after months of early morning demonstrations outside Mayor Michelle Wu's home, Boston enacted an ordinance restricting demonstrations targeted at an individual's residence between 9 p.m. and 9 a.m.

The ordinance didn’t challenge people’s right to criticize the mayor. They remained free to do that. The ordinance addressed a different question: whether exercising that right should come at the expense of the mayor’s ability, and that of her family and neighbors, to live peacefully in their homes without being subjected to repeated, loud demonstrations.

On the first morning after the ordinance went into place, five people were fined $50 according to The Boston Globe, and several weeks later a protester was arrested after refusing to leave when police warned her she was violating the ordinance.

The mayor of Boston makes decisions affecting hundreds of thousands of residents. A Supreme Court justice makes decisions affecting millions. Citizens have every right to criticize those decisions. They can rally at City Hall or the Supreme Court, write letters, organize campaigns and demonstrate in public spaces. Laws and ordinances have been established to recognize that someone’s home is different from a city hall or courthouse.

I have no objection to my friend, or anyone else, who wants to protest something. I respect the willingness to stand up for something they believe. But protest can come with risks. People can conclude that breaking a law is justified in pursuit of a greater good and be willing to accept the consequences. Less defensible, I believe, is insisting on the right to protest without accepting the possible consequences of doing so.

When protesting, it’s best to know the law, understand the risks, and consider whether you’re respecting other people’s rights while exercising your own.

Doing the right thing isn't always about asking, "Am I allowed to do this?" Sometimes it's about asking the harder question: "Even if I can, should I?"

Sunday, October 18, 2026

Saved from trouble with a pocketknife

What is your responsibility once you realize you’ve made a mistake?

A nor’easter was bearing down on us in late September in Boston. We had tickets to a Ray LaMontagne concert that had been postponed from the previous year because of the singer’s health. The venue for the concert was an outdoor pavilion on the waterfront in Boston that is covered by a large canopy. If rain hit while we were at the concert, we’d likely remain dry unless the winds picked up.

The forecast of when the storm might hit the strongest kept changing. We decided to risk the elements and made our way by public transportation to the South Station subway stop and then walked the roughly mile-and-a-half to the venue. On the walk from the station, I realized that I still had an old pocketknife in my pants pocket that I had used earlier in the day for yard work. We arrived at the venue early and I asked the bag check workers if they could hold the pocketknife for me during the concert. They told me they couldn’t, but also told me I wouldn’t be able to get inside with it.

The pocketknife had no sentimental value. I had found it about 20 years ago and found it useful to carry around when I was doing chores around the yard. It wasn’t particularly sharp, and had some chips in the blade. That I didn’t care if I lost it was precisely why I carried it around. Nevertheless, I thought someone else might find it useful. Rather than cause a ruckus at the security check-in, my wife, Nancy, remembered we had passed a Massachusetts state trooper about a block away.

I approached the trooper and told him that I had a pocketknife on me that I would like to surrender to him so I could get into the concert venue. He asked me why I had a knife on me and, after I told him, I handed it to him. He told me his cruiser number and told me that if I saw the cruiser, I could let him know I’d like the pocketknife back.

When I approached the trooper, I didn’t know the rules about whether he could accept the pocketknife. I was not sure what the trooper would do with the pocketknife. As soon as I handed it to him, it was his responsibility what to do with it.

I suppose I could have found someplace just outside of the venue to hide the knife until after the concert. I also could have tossed it in the trash. I guess I could have given it to the first person I saw nearby who wasn’t going to the concert or to a bartender at one of the many nearby establishments at the waterfront.

The right thing would have been to remember not to bring it with me in the first place. But since I failed on that account, the next best thing seemed to be to give it to someone who might make sure it didn’t end up hurting anyone. The young state trooper my wife remembered seeing seemed to be the best option. I was saved from my trouble by the woman I’d eat bees for.

Sunday, October 11, 2026

Should good deals feel like getting away with something?

What is it with advertisements that seem to rejoice in the possibility of pulling one over on a company?

Years ago, I wrote about Pizza Hut and IKEA advertisements that featured customers gleefully believing that they had gotten away with paying less than they should have.

In the Pizza Hut ad, a delivery person arrives at the door, delivers three pizzas, and is asked by the customer, “That’s only five bucks each, right?” The delivery person responds, “Yes, sir” and the ad concludes with the customer shouting upstairs, “Honey, the pizza kid made the same mistake again.”

In the IKEA ad, a woman checks out with several bags of goods, looks at her receipt, then quickens her pace and shouts at her partner to “start the car!” four times. The final scene is them driving off and her shouting “Wooooooo!” as they leave the parking lot believing they got more than they should have for the price they paid.

The most recent advertisement is offered up by Hyundai. In a number of variations of the ad, someone drives up and lets someone know they need to lie low because of a deal they got from Hyundai that “is so right, it almost feels wrong.” The next scene typically shows the person being confided in rushing off to a Hyundai dealership to get the same apparently ridiculously good deal and then rushing off. We never actually hear what that great deal is in the ads, but the message seems clear: The customer doesn’t want to get caught because the price can’t possibly be right.

I asked back when I wrote about Pizza Hut and IKEA if such ads send the wrong message, suggesting that it’s OK to shortchange a store when a cashier makes a mistake. “That’s hardly a message that we want to send to our kids, and it’s not one we should embrace ourselves,” I wrote. "As customers we expect stores to correct any mistakes that shortchange us, so by the same token the right thing is to correct a delivery person or cashier on his or her mistake, even if it’s in our favor. It may turn out that there wasn’t a mistake after all, but if you suspect that you’ve been undercharged or that not every item was rung up at checkout, the obligation falls on you to make the situation right.”

I wrote that then, but it hasn’t stemmed the tide of similar advertisements over the years. But wouldn’t it be refreshing for both the customer and the seller to bask in the glory of a good deal? Yes, the seller can confirm, it might seem too good to be true, but that’s our price. The customer might remember being told that if something seems to be too good to be true, it’s usually not, but the seller can reassure him or her that that is indeed the price without any hidden fees or gimmicks.

Imagine how much good faith that could build. A good deal shouldn't leave either side feeling as though someone got away with something. It should leave both sides feeling that they were treated fairly, and that they might want to do business again.

Sunday, October 04, 2026

What do we owe a stranger?

For the past several decades, the weekend after Labor Day has been the neighborhood yard sale in the part of Boston where I live. From 9 a.m. to 2 p.m. on Saturday, neighbors in dozens of houses put out stuff they no longer want on tables or lawns in front of their houses. The yard sale and Halloween are big events for the neighborhood. Each offers a time to get out and talk to neighbors, but also to meet lots of strangers who come to the events. (We typically give out at least 600 pieces of candy each Halloween.)

The woman I'd eat bees for and I put out stuff in front of our house and spent some time talking and selling. After our adult daughter and her husband arrived and took a walk around the neighborhood, they minded our tables while we took a walk. Just up the street from our house are a city-run basketball court, a street hockey court, and a couple of tennis courts. We passed a young man reaching into a car, and I noticed blood on his face as he got out. I saw that he had retrieved some tissue that he was stuffing into his nose.

The young man was not someone I recognized. I had no idea how he might have gotten the bloody nose. There may have been others around who knew him. I didn't know if he had fallen, if he'd been in a fight, or if something less onerous had occurred. Nevertheless, I asked him: "Do you need any help?"

He smiled. "No thanks. I just got hit in the face with a tennis ball." Then he ran across the street to the tennis courts to rejoin his game, a game I hadn't known he was part of. He had simply wanted to slow the nosebleed.

The incident with the stranger raised the question of what we owe strangers. Is it right to offer help if someone seems in need or to simply mind our own business and move on? When does help become meddling? Or is risking a bit of meddling the right course of action if we believe someone might be in need?

It cost me nothing to ask the young man if he needed help. He could have said yes. He could have said no. He could have told me to mind my own business. He was under no obligation to say anything. How he responded was his choice.

Solving whatever problem this stranger might have had wasn’t my responsibility. But it struck me as important to notice when someone might need help. I didn’t know the whole story before I asked. I didn’t feel it was my responsibility to intervene if he didn’t need help. I just wanted to know if he was OK and in need of help.

The right thing sometimes is simply to ask.

The stranger may tell us he needs help or that he doesn't. Regardless, we have done something small but important. We have let someone know that someone noticed.

Sunday, September 27, 2026

Is letting others win ever right?

Should we let others win so they feel better about themselves?

My grandson Lucas is a terrific ping pong player. That wasn't always the case. From the time he was about 7 years old, he and I would play ping pong. His game always improved. But he didn't win a game until he was in high school. For a few years, we were evenly matched. Now he's in his mid-20s. For the past five or six years, I rarely have been able to beat him.

While I always encouraged him and never goaded him about losing, I never let him win. Sometimes, when the score was lopsided, he would ask if we could start over. I obliged. But I never let him win.

I took the same approach when I was a magazine editor and worked with young or inexperienced writers. I took time to work with them. I encouraged them. But I never told them their work was better than it was. I pointed out what was good. I also pointed out what was needed to make the piece strong.

When I shifted careers and tried teaching, I took the same approach. I tried to give students the tools they needed to do strong work. I encouraged them. I tried to guide them. But I never told them their work was better than it was.

Telling someone something is good when it isn't doesn’t do that person any favors.

Honesty doesn’t mean being harsh. Seven-year-olds don't need to be told their ping pong game stinks. Beginning writers don't need to be told their story isn't worth reading. Students don't need professors who take joy in pointing out their flaws.

They also don’t need to be told something is good when it isn't.

Letting someone win can be tempting. We do it to make them feel good or to avoid hurting their feelings. But if we give someone a false sense of accomplishment, how might they feel the next time they try to do that thing when we’re not around to give them that false sense of accomplishment?

I could have let Lucas beat me when he was 7. He might have felt good about beating his grandfather. But he also might have caught on that I was letting him win. When he finally beat me, often soundly, there was no doubt he had earned the win.

Similarly, I didn’t want the writers or students I worked with to feel good solely because I told them they had done good work. I preferred that they feel good because they recognized they had done good work.

The right thing, I believe, is to encourage people and acknowledge their improvement. Telling people what they are doing well is important. So is helping them recognize how they can strengthen their work.