The Right Thing

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.

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, 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.

Sunday, September 20, 2026

Is it OK to create a photo that never happened?

After the recent deaths of several well-known celebrities, some people began to post AI-generated photographs of themselves sitting or standing next to those celebrities. Presumably, these posts were made in good fun. But does it cross a line to manufacture images where viewers could be confused about whether the incident truly happened?

The temptation to create such posts is understandable. Why not create an image of an actor, musician, athlete or political figure you always admired if you’d never had a chance to actually meet them? Whom does it hurt? The celebrity is dead. You know the photo isn’t real and your friends and loved ones likely know it isn’t real either.

But what about everyone else who may see your post online?

For most of our lives we could count on a photograph to be strong evidence that something actually occurred. If someone showed you a photo of the two of you or a group of you together, you’d have little reason to doubt you’d actually been there even if the photo was from a long time ago and your memory is fuzzy on the particulars.

Granted, it’s always been possible to manipulate photographs. Some get staged. Others get cropped. Still others get manipulated to make things look different from what actually was being photographed. Doing so used to take a bit of effort. Readily available AI platforms have made doing so much easier. We can now create images of ourselves with someone we never met in less time than it takes to read their obituary.

Such creative license doesn’t always result in misleading results. If I were to create a photo of myself handing George Washington notes prior to his first inaugural address, few would suspect that encounter actually happened.

But what if the person in the AI-generated photograph is someone I could actually have met and I make the photo look like it’s an event that actually could have happened? What if I add the caption: “I’ll always remember meeting you”?

While I might want the photo to suggest how much I admired the person, someone who doesn’t know me might assume I’d actually met the person. I’ve ended up creating something that results in someone believing something happened that isn’t true.

Back in 2018, I wrote about whether we should ask someone's permission before posting a photograph of that person online. My thinking was that just because I don't mind having my photograph posted doesn't mean I get to make that decision for someone else.

If I create a photograph of myself with someone who has died, in addition to choosing to use my own image, I am using another person's likeness (obviously without their permission) to create an event that never occurred.

There’s a difference between using AI to create photos that are meant to be amusing. But if an image is likely to be mistaken for a photograph of something that really happened, the right thing is to let people know that it didn’t. Whether it’s by indicating the photo is AI-generated or including a note that the photo represents wishful thinking rather than reality might lessen the chance that viewers would mistake it for something that really happened. But it would go a long way toward being more truthful.

Sunday, September 13, 2026

When should we correct someone?

When is correcting someone the right thing, and when is it just another way of trying to prove you're right about something?

Back in December 2024, I wrote a Right Thing column about listening before interrupting. When I was in high school, I interrupted my physics teacher to tell him he was wrong. He explained I was not only wrong about the physics, but also wrong to interrupt him before he had finished speaking. The lesson that stuck with me was that before rushing to correct someone, it’s important to listen to make sure you understand what the person is saying.

Listening, however, doesn't mean we should never correct anyone. In August 2025, I wrote a column about an error I made during a podcast interview. I had referred to the FCC when I meant the FAA. Few listeners likely noticed, and my mistake didn't change the point I was making. Still, I contacted the interviewer and acknowledged my error in my column. If I expect people to check what I say, I should also be willing to make a correction when I get something wrong.

Which is more important? To listen first, or to correct the error? Sometimes the answer depends on what happens if we don’t.

If a friend told me that "Die Hard" was released in 1987 and I knew it was actually released in 1988, there may be little reason to interrupt the conversation to correct him. If someone mispronounces my name, correcting them may be helpful. If someone posts a false accusation about another person, it becomes more important to say something. If someone shares misinformation that could cause physical or financial harm, not saying anything to avoid appearing rude is hardly the right thing to do.

Even when a correction is appropriate, how we correct someone matters.

Telling someone that you believe they might be mistaken about a fact is different from simply declaring, “You’re wrong.” The first approach might open up a conversation. The second can easily turn a disagreement in which each person feels compelled to be right and prove the other person wrong.

Many of us encounter wrong statistics, misidentified photographs, made-up quotations, and things generated by AI that we know aren’t true. It’s near impossible to correct every error that crosses our way. We also shouldn’t assume that because something sounds wrong to us, it is wrong. My December column reminded me that certainty can be flawed. My August column reminded me that checking facts is everyone's responsibility, including mine.

The right thing may be to ask three questions before correcting someone: How certain am I that I am right? Who could be harmed if the error goes uncorrected? Can I correct something without making my effort seem like it’s just me needing to be right and someone else wrong?

Sometimes we correct because we believe another person would benefit from receiving the information. Sometimes we correct solely because we enjoy being the person who knows something that others don’t. Being right isn’t the same as being obliged to prove someone else is wrong.

We should listen. We should check facts. And sometimes we should say something out loud when someone’s facts are off. Even after doing all three of these things, we would do well to realize that being right doesn’t mean we always have to have the last word.

Sunday, September 06, 2026

Just because you’re entitled to it doesn’t mean you should get it

How should a reader balance her desire to get what she’s paid for even if she has no plans to use what she paid for and knows that it could become a nuisance to her neighbor and an unsightly addition to her yard?

In a midwestern city of roughly 80,000 people, residents are charged about $4 a month on their utility bill for curbside organics recycling, or composting. Each household has to sign up to receive a wheeled collection cart for their compost, but not for the fee. The fee gets assigned to every household whether they ask for it to be or not.

A resident we’re calling Chloe doesn’t plan to use the composting cart but doesn’t like that she’s being charged for the service and won’t get the cart she’s entitled to, so she signed up to get a cart. Once she received it, she realized that she really has no place to store it that won’t be inconvenient or unsightly for her or her neighbors. The trash and recycling bins already take up any space available in her garage. If she puts the composting cart on the side of her house, her neighbors have to stare at it from their windows.

She asks if it’s wrong to put the cart out on the side of her house where it might annoy her neighbors. What’s the right thing to do?

It’s reasonable for Chloe to believe she should receive the composting cart because she, like everyone else, is paying $4 a month for it. But getting the cart just because she’s entitled to it and then not using it creates more problems.

If Chloe has no intention of composting, it doesn’t make sense for her to keep it simply because she paid the fee. Keeping the cart is a nuisance for her and a potential eyesore for her neighbors, who now have to live with the consequences of a choice Chloe made that serves no real purpose for her.

Chloe should try to find a place to keep the cart out of sight of her neighbors and consider using it for what it was intended. Her neighbors shouldn’t be forced to become unwilling participants in Chloe’s composting fee protest. She could end up finding herself a convert to the wisdom of composting rather than resenting the cart as a symbol of a fee she resents paying.

If Chloe is determined not to use the cart and can’t find a place to store it, she should call the city and ask if the cart can be retrieved. Sometimes doing the right thing means recognizing that getting what you're entitled to isn't always the same as doing what you're entitled to do. If she doesn’t like the policy, Chloe can ask the city to change it or ask that every household should automatically receive a cart. Until the policy changes, the right thing is for Chloe to find a place to store or use the cart or return it to the city.