The movie version of "The Devil Wears Prada," starring Meryl Streep as the challenging boss, Miranda Priestly, has rekindled media interest in bosses everyone loves to hate. The stories about difficult bosses is hardly new.
Below is a reprise of "The Right Thing" column that touched on the subject in the past. Others can be found in the collection of columns (also called "The Right Thing" by clicking on the title on the home page of the http://jeffreyseglin.blogspot.com blog.
Copyright 2000 The New York Times Company
August 20, 2000, Sunday, Late Edition
Final SECTION: Section 3; Page 4; Column 2; Money and Business/Financial Desk
THE RIGHT THING:
When the Boss is a Stealth Bomber
By JEFFREY L. SEGLIN
AN anecdote in Kay Hammer's book, "Workplace Warrior: Insights and Advice for Winning on the Corporate Battlefield" (Workplace Warrior: Insights and Advice for ... ) brought me up short. It seems that Ms. Hammer once had a boss who set up a secret team of employees to develop a project that would replace work she had been doing. She didn't find out until the stealth project was presented as a fait accompli at a meeting of her entire division of 80 employees.
"It was awful," Ms. Hammer said in an interview. "One of the things I had to ask myself after that public humiliation was why somebody would have so much animosity toward me that they would do that."
Ms. Hammer's story struck me, because I had once been involved in a similar incident from the other side. I was the one asked by the boss to develop a project in secret that might supersede someone else's work.
What should an ethical person think when asked to operate behind a colleague's back?
On one level, it is perfectly reasonable for a boss to want to explore new ideas and find innovative solutions to business challenges, and to assign the work to whichever employee seems best suited to the task. And it often makes perfect sense to hold potentially disruptive experiments close to the vest until it is clear that they will bear fruit. So keeping some co-workers in the dark is not automatically unethical. It all depends on what the boss is up to.
"Surely, there are ways to negotiate an outcome that partakes of the boss's desire for confidentiality but engages the support of the employee," said Rushworth Kidder, president of the Institute for Global Ethics in Camden, Me. "But that will only happen if the motive behind the boss's action was up front and straightforward rather than deceptive or wily. Was the boss trying to get rid of the employee, but simply lacked the courage to say so?"
In highly politicized workplaces, discussions of such issues are often avoided on purpose. Instead, innuendo rules under the guise of "an obvious necessity for secrecy" or "for the sake of the good cause," said Laura L. Nash of the Center for the Study of Values in Public Life at Harvard. "When this is allowed, you create a business culture with upside-down values. There is a general sense that honesty about underhanded tricks is more distasteful than the tricks themselves.
"By insisting on secrecy, Ms. Nash said, "people begin to portray the deceived person as the enemy -- the dysfunctional one who deserves to be blindsided."
"This little mental trick," she added, "covers up their own participation in the deception."
It's also a sop to cowardice. Unethical bosses resort to this kind of tactic, said Steven Berglas, a clinical psychologist who teaches at the Anderson School of Management at U.C.L.A., when they are afraid to confront subordinates about problems with their work. Instead, they scheme to achieve their ends indirectly, by pitting employees against one another.
Employees, naturally, tend to put what the boss wants ahead of the needs of fellow workers. That's what I did when my boss approached me, though I didn't realize it until I took the plan to another colleague for confidential feedback. My confidant's response was unambiguous: The whole thing smacked of unfairness.
Maybe he felt free to respond that way because it was me asking, and not our boss. In any event, he immediately saw ethical implications that I hadn't acknowledged.
"Sunshine is a great disinfectant," Ms. Nash said. "When such behavior is opened to scrutiny -- even in a confidential setting -- the stench becomes clear. If you can't develop a product internally without cannibalizing your own team members, there is something wrong with your managing or your morals -- or both."
Ms. Hammer said in hindsight that had she been more attuned to the kind of person the boss was, she might have seen the ploy coming and gotten out earlier. "If you think the boss is a total jerk and he shouldn't be in this position, that's not productive," she said. "You're not going to fix him or thrive."
Having learned the hard way, Ms. Hammer quit to start her own business, Evolutionary Technologies International of Austin, Tex., which sells software that helps dissimilar computers communicate.
I stopped peddling my own secret proposal as soon as my confidant expressed his discomfort, and the whole thing fizzled out. But now, after reading Ms. Hammer's story, I have to find the moral courage to call my old deceived colleague and apologize.
Jeffrey L. Seglin teaches at Emerson College in Boston and is the author of "The Good, the Bad, and Your Business" (The Good, the Bad, and Your Business: Choos... ). His column on business ethics appears the third Sunday of each month. E-mail may be sent to: rightthing@nytimes.com.
Saturday, July 08, 2006
Monday, July 03, 2006
Little Whites Lies about Firings
Phil Rosenthal has a column in yesterday's Chicago Tribune (The Chicago Tribune Phil Rosenthal Media column: Reynolds' deviation ) about how the truth is scarce when companies fire employees. He was reporting on the the Star Jones-Reynold removal from the television show "The View."
In his column, he writes:
"One of the shockwaves still rippling from Star Jones Reynolds' abrupt departure from ABC's "The View" is just how radical it is to not put a smiley face on one's ouster.
" "It's a huge question that people deal with in their business lives all the time," said Jeff Seglin, a professor at Emerson College who teaches professional ethics and writes a syndicated ethics column."
Later in the column, he continues:
" "It's a little white lie to try to protect somebody by saving face, but the problem with that is everyone knows that she's being fired," Seglin said. "We all say we're doing this to make someone feel better about why they're leaving, but when someone says they're leaving for personal reasons or someone says they're going in another direction, we know what that means. So why not just be honest about it?"
"These kind of niceties are epidemic these days. Every operation from the White House on down seems to have boilerplate announcements just waiting for the blanks to be filled as a desk is emptied and the news and employee are readied for release.
" "That's sort of become this dirty little secret," Seglin said. "Everyone knows that's code for `I'm being fired.'" "
I wrote about a similar topic in "The Right Thing" column back in October 1998:
Copyright 1998 The New York Times Company
October 18, 1998
THE RIGHT THING: In Dismissals, Silence Has Its Perils
By JEFFREY L. SEGLIN
YOU walk into the office, and as the day goes on you realize that the guy who sat in the cubicle next to you for years isn't there. It's not just that he hasn't come in to work. There is no trace of him. The family pictures, the plants, the cartoons he liked to clip and post are simply gone. Office scuttlebutt has it that he has been dismissed. But there is no official word: no memo, no department E-mail.
Welcome to the modern workplace, where companies are so concerned about wrongful-termination suits that silence often replaces honest communication. Most managers with power to dismiss have faced the problem:whether to let people know why a colleague has been let go or to lie low.
A consequence of the first option is obvious: the risk of being sued for what may be seen as defamation. A consequence of the second may be subtler, but no less serious: creating a climate of fear and being labeled a boss who does not level with the staff.
Who can blame companies for choosing the silent route? In 1997 alone, more than 50,000 wrongful-termination suits were filed in state and Federal courts, according to Edgewater Holdings, an insurer in Chicago.
"The upshot is you get a workplace where the law has made speech dangerous," said Walter K. Olson, a senior fellow at the Manhattan Institute and author of The Excuse Factory: How Employment Law is Paralyzing the American Workplace (Free Press, 1997).
One casualty on this battlefield was Paul J. McCarthy, dismissed in January 1994 by a Rochester division of Unisource Worldwide, a big marketer of paper and packaging systems. Mr. McCarthy had sold the unit's packaging machinery for almost four years. Unisource bought the company midway through his tenure. After initially being given no explanation for his dismissal, he said, he later was told he failed to meet "performance related criteria."
Mr. McCarthy contends that he was dismissed because he told supervisors about conduct by a fellow employee that had put a Unisource vendor at a significant safety risk by taking him to a bad neighborhood. The vendor confirms that account, but did not report the incident to Unisource and declined to be identified.
"We sold over $1 million worth of product through his company," the vendor said. "I didn't want to risk losing the business." But he did tell Mr. McCarthy, who was a friend. "He went ballistic on it," the vendor said. "Paul's a pretty righteous person."
MR. McCARTHY reported the incident to a regional vice president. The vice president told Mr. McCarthy's boss to dismiss him, according to Mr. McCarthy and others involved.
Mr. McCarthy, 39 at the time, was not part of a "protected class," like members of a minority group or older workers, that can sue over a retaliatory dismissal, if that is what occurred. Given New York law's adherence to the notion of "employment at will," Unisource did not need to give a reason for dismissing him.
Patrick Farris, senior counsel at Unisource Worldwide's headquarters in Berwyn, Pa., said, "The company is very comfortable with the decision that it made with respect to his termination."
If there is no legal issue, where is the ethical problem? It's simple. Fear of being sued has led to a situation in which people treat one another badly. They don't talk, or they talk but don't say anything. But this may backfire, said Mary Dollarhide, a management lawyer. Consider a situation, she said, in which a worker in a protected class has been "a lousy performer," and there has been no employer discrimination. "You don't counsel them because you're afraid you're going to get stuck with some bogus lawsuit having to do with their protected status," she said. "When things deteriorate to where you have to fire this person, you're going to end up with an empty personnel file without a lick of evidence that anything was ever wrong."
Not a lot of winners in that picture.
Jeffrey L. Seglin is a visiting fellow at Harvard University's Center for the Study of Values in Public Life. His column on business ethics will appear the third Sunday of each month. E-mail: rightthing@nytimes.com.
In his column, he writes:
"One of the shockwaves still rippling from Star Jones Reynolds' abrupt departure from ABC's "The View" is just how radical it is to not put a smiley face on one's ouster.
" "It's a huge question that people deal with in their business lives all the time," said Jeff Seglin, a professor at Emerson College who teaches professional ethics and writes a syndicated ethics column."
Later in the column, he continues:
" "It's a little white lie to try to protect somebody by saving face, but the problem with that is everyone knows that she's being fired," Seglin said. "We all say we're doing this to make someone feel better about why they're leaving, but when someone says they're leaving for personal reasons or someone says they're going in another direction, we know what that means. So why not just be honest about it?"
"These kind of niceties are epidemic these days. Every operation from the White House on down seems to have boilerplate announcements just waiting for the blanks to be filled as a desk is emptied and the news and employee are readied for release.
" "That's sort of become this dirty little secret," Seglin said. "Everyone knows that's code for `I'm being fired.'" "
I wrote about a similar topic in "The Right Thing" column back in October 1998:
Copyright 1998 The New York Times Company
October 18, 1998
THE RIGHT THING: In Dismissals, Silence Has Its Perils
By JEFFREY L. SEGLIN
YOU walk into the office, and as the day goes on you realize that the guy who sat in the cubicle next to you for years isn't there. It's not just that he hasn't come in to work. There is no trace of him. The family pictures, the plants, the cartoons he liked to clip and post are simply gone. Office scuttlebutt has it that he has been dismissed. But there is no official word: no memo, no department E-mail.
Welcome to the modern workplace, where companies are so concerned about wrongful-termination suits that silence often replaces honest communication. Most managers with power to dismiss have faced the problem:whether to let people know why a colleague has been let go or to lie low.
A consequence of the first option is obvious: the risk of being sued for what may be seen as defamation. A consequence of the second may be subtler, but no less serious: creating a climate of fear and being labeled a boss who does not level with the staff.
Who can blame companies for choosing the silent route? In 1997 alone, more than 50,000 wrongful-termination suits were filed in state and Federal courts, according to Edgewater Holdings, an insurer in Chicago.
"The upshot is you get a workplace where the law has made speech dangerous," said Walter K. Olson, a senior fellow at the Manhattan Institute and author of The Excuse Factory: How Employment Law is Paralyzing the American Workplace (Free Press, 1997).
One casualty on this battlefield was Paul J. McCarthy, dismissed in January 1994 by a Rochester division of Unisource Worldwide, a big marketer of paper and packaging systems. Mr. McCarthy had sold the unit's packaging machinery for almost four years. Unisource bought the company midway through his tenure. After initially being given no explanation for his dismissal, he said, he later was told he failed to meet "performance related criteria."
Mr. McCarthy contends that he was dismissed because he told supervisors about conduct by a fellow employee that had put a Unisource vendor at a significant safety risk by taking him to a bad neighborhood. The vendor confirms that account, but did not report the incident to Unisource and declined to be identified.
"We sold over $1 million worth of product through his company," the vendor said. "I didn't want to risk losing the business." But he did tell Mr. McCarthy, who was a friend. "He went ballistic on it," the vendor said. "Paul's a pretty righteous person."
MR. McCARTHY reported the incident to a regional vice president. The vice president told Mr. McCarthy's boss to dismiss him, according to Mr. McCarthy and others involved.
Mr. McCarthy, 39 at the time, was not part of a "protected class," like members of a minority group or older workers, that can sue over a retaliatory dismissal, if that is what occurred. Given New York law's adherence to the notion of "employment at will," Unisource did not need to give a reason for dismissing him.
Patrick Farris, senior counsel at Unisource Worldwide's headquarters in Berwyn, Pa., said, "The company is very comfortable with the decision that it made with respect to his termination."
If there is no legal issue, where is the ethical problem? It's simple. Fear of being sued has led to a situation in which people treat one another badly. They don't talk, or they talk but don't say anything. But this may backfire, said Mary Dollarhide, a management lawyer. Consider a situation, she said, in which a worker in a protected class has been "a lousy performer," and there has been no employer discrimination. "You don't counsel them because you're afraid you're going to get stuck with some bogus lawsuit having to do with their protected status," she said. "When things deteriorate to where you have to fire this person, you're going to end up with an empty personnel file without a lick of evidence that anything was ever wrong."
Not a lot of winners in that picture.
Jeffrey L. Seglin is a visiting fellow at Harvard University's Center for the Study of Values in Public Life. His column on business ethics will appear the third Sunday of each month. E-mail: rightthing@nytimes.com.
Sunday, July 02, 2006
KEEP YOUR HEAD, BUT NOT SOMEONE ELSE'S
The problem with writing a column in which I dispense advice is that occasionally I find myself in the position of giving advice that could result in negative consequences for the person seeking guidance.
Making a sound ethical choice is the best route to take, even then, but I'm not keen on directing readers to take action that could result in criminal prosecution. The least I can do, I figure, is to alert them to the potential pitfalls they could face in setting things straight.
I recently received an e-mail query from a reader that places me squarely in the position of knowing what the ethical thing is for her to do to resolve her issue, while also knowing that doing the right thing could land her in a heap of trouble.
Her story is that, back in the early 1960s, when she and her soon-to-be husband -- now her ex -- were dating and in college, she noticed that he had a skull in his apartment. He told her that, in his freshman year, while wandering through an old cemetery he had come across an unmarked mausoleum, the door to which had rotted off. Inside were broken wooden caskets and bones. He took a skull.
"Fast-forward through our marriage and our divorce," she writes, "and I got `custody' of the skull. It sits to this day on my bookshelf."
Through some research, my reader discovered that the skull had belonged to someone who died in the mid-19th century.
"I have taken care of it and carried it with me on every move," she writes, "although it did have one unfortunate fall and broke the lower part of its upper jaw. Now what?"
She would like to return the skull to its rightful place, but the mausoleum door has been sealed off with cinderblocks. To institute official inquiries might lead to the restoration of the skull to its proper place, but it would risk getting her ex in trouble for something he did 40 years ago, which she doesn't want to do.
In short, she finds herself in a real quandary.
There's no question that the right thing to do is to return the skull so that it can be reunited with the rest of the skeleton. That's clear enough.
Grave-robbing is not only morbid, however, but also a felony. Cemetery law varies from state to state and is murky enough that it's unclear if the statute of limitations on the theft has passed, according to Robert Fells, general counsel for the International Cemetery and Funeral Association,which is reachable at www.icfa.org.
"The right thing to do is to return it," Fells says. "Going by the book, a crime was committed. The person's best course of action would be to hire a knowledgeable attorney in that jurisdiction who might question whether immunity can be granted from prosecution for the return of the skull."
An attorney may also be able to tell the reader if he or she can keep her identity confidential, based on attorney-client privilege.
The return of the skull will create many challenges for the cemetery, of course, among them verifying whose skull it was, re-opening a sealed mausoleum and notifying any family members who may still be around.
"All it does is open up a can of worms," one director of a different cemetery told me. "Literally."
Even if the cemetery staff might wish otherwise, however, there's no question that the right thing to do is to return the skull so that it can be reunited with the rest of the remains and the issue can finally be, so to speak, laid to rest.
That it may be difficult for my reader to accomplish this does not lessen her obligation to do it.
Making a sound ethical choice is the best route to take, even then, but I'm not keen on directing readers to take action that could result in criminal prosecution. The least I can do, I figure, is to alert them to the potential pitfalls they could face in setting things straight.
I recently received an e-mail query from a reader that places me squarely in the position of knowing what the ethical thing is for her to do to resolve her issue, while also knowing that doing the right thing could land her in a heap of trouble.
Her story is that, back in the early 1960s, when she and her soon-to-be husband -- now her ex -- were dating and in college, she noticed that he had a skull in his apartment. He told her that, in his freshman year, while wandering through an old cemetery he had come across an unmarked mausoleum, the door to which had rotted off. Inside were broken wooden caskets and bones. He took a skull.
"Fast-forward through our marriage and our divorce," she writes, "and I got `custody' of the skull. It sits to this day on my bookshelf."
Through some research, my reader discovered that the skull had belonged to someone who died in the mid-19th century.
"I have taken care of it and carried it with me on every move," she writes, "although it did have one unfortunate fall and broke the lower part of its upper jaw. Now what?"
She would like to return the skull to its rightful place, but the mausoleum door has been sealed off with cinderblocks. To institute official inquiries might lead to the restoration of the skull to its proper place, but it would risk getting her ex in trouble for something he did 40 years ago, which she doesn't want to do.
In short, she finds herself in a real quandary.
There's no question that the right thing to do is to return the skull so that it can be reunited with the rest of the skeleton. That's clear enough.
Grave-robbing is not only morbid, however, but also a felony. Cemetery law varies from state to state and is murky enough that it's unclear if the statute of limitations on the theft has passed, according to Robert Fells, general counsel for the International Cemetery and Funeral Association,which is reachable at www.icfa.org.
"The right thing to do is to return it," Fells says. "Going by the book, a crime was committed. The person's best course of action would be to hire a knowledgeable attorney in that jurisdiction who might question whether immunity can be granted from prosecution for the return of the skull."
An attorney may also be able to tell the reader if he or she can keep her identity confidential, based on attorney-client privilege.
The return of the skull will create many challenges for the cemetery, of course, among them verifying whose skull it was, re-opening a sealed mausoleum and notifying any family members who may still be around.
"All it does is open up a can of worms," one director of a different cemetery told me. "Literally."
Even if the cemetery staff might wish otherwise, however, there's no question that the right thing to do is to return the skull so that it can be reunited with the rest of the remains and the issue can finally be, so to speak, laid to rest.
That it may be difficult for my reader to accomplish this does not lessen her obligation to do it.
SOUND OFF: GIVING AT THE OFFICE, WHETHER YOU WANT TO OR NOT
No readers objected to companies sponsoring company-wide campaigns to raise funds for charitable organizations, but all felt that such efforts must be truly voluntary.
"It's OK for companies to sponsor such drives," writes Elizabeth Goldin of Stone Mountain, Ga., "but 100-percent participation should not be a requirement for managers."
Dick Henley of Baltimore, Ohio, and Todd Brklacich of Murray, Utah, both had a practical thought: Such drives should be conducted only when they are arranged so that managers never know which employees contributed or how much they gave.
"Sponsoring good works is admirable," writes E. Carroll Straus of Orange County, Calif. "Strong-arming participation is coercion. Period."
Check out other opinions at http://jeffreyseglin.blogspot.com/2006/05/sound-off-giving-against-grain.html or post your own by clicking on "Comments" below.
Jeffrey L. Seglin, author of "The Right Thing: Conscience, Profit and Personal Responsibility in Today's Business" (Spiro Press, 2003), is an associate professor at Emerson College in Boston, where he teaches writing and ethics. He is also the administrator of http://jeffreyseglin.blogspot.com, a Web log focused on ethical issues.
Do you have ethical questions that you need answered? Send them to rightthing@nytimes.com or to "The Right Thing," New York Times Syndicate, 609 Greenwich St., 6th floor, New York, N.Y. 10014-3610.
"It's OK for companies to sponsor such drives," writes Elizabeth Goldin of Stone Mountain, Ga., "but 100-percent participation should not be a requirement for managers."
Dick Henley of Baltimore, Ohio, and Todd Brklacich of Murray, Utah, both had a practical thought: Such drives should be conducted only when they are arranged so that managers never know which employees contributed or how much they gave.
"Sponsoring good works is admirable," writes E. Carroll Straus of Orange County, Calif. "Strong-arming participation is coercion. Period."
Check out other opinions at http://jeffreyseglin.blogspot.com/2006/05/sound-off-giving-against-grain.html or post your own by clicking on "Comments" below.
Jeffrey L. Seglin, author of "The Right Thing: Conscience, Profit and Personal Responsibility in Today's Business" (Spiro Press, 2003), is an associate professor at Emerson College in Boston, where he teaches writing and ethics. He is also the administrator of http://jeffreyseglin.blogspot.com, a Web log focused on ethical issues.
Do you have ethical questions that you need answered? Send them to rightthing@nytimes.com or to "The Right Thing," New York Times Syndicate, 609 Greenwich St., 6th floor, New York, N.Y. 10014-3610.
Sunday, June 25, 2006
RENDERING UNDESERVED RETURNS
For some, how far to go in correcting a retail mistake that results in more cash in your pocket than you deserve depends on how much money is involved. Others believe that such mistakes should be corrected regardless of monetary value. But to what lengths is one obliged to go?
Let's say that you've waited in line for several minutes to buy your morning coffee on the way to work. You've paid and are a couple of blocks away before you realize that the clerk gave you change for $20 rather than for the $10 you gave her.
Do you turn around and go back to the coffee shop to return the extra $10? Do you wait until the next time you're in the coffee shop to return the money? Or do you merely pocket the extra change and chalk it up to good luck?
What would you do?
Post your thoughts here by clicking on "Comments" below or send your thoughts to rightthing@nytimes.com. Please include your name, your hometown and the name of the newspaper in which you read this column. Readers'comments may appear in an upcoming column.
Jeffrey L. Seglin, author of "The Right Thing: Conscience, Profit and Personal Responsibility in Today's Business" (Spiro Press, 2003), is an associate professor at Emerson College in Boston, where he teaches writing and ethics. He is also the administrator of http://jeffreyseglin.blogspot.com, a Web log focused on ethical issues.
Do you have ethical questions that you need answered? Send them to rightthing@nytimes.com or to "The Right Thing," New York Times Syndicate, 609 Greenwich St., 6th floor, New York, N.Y. 10014-3610.
Let's say that you've waited in line for several minutes to buy your morning coffee on the way to work. You've paid and are a couple of blocks away before you realize that the clerk gave you change for $20 rather than for the $10 you gave her.
Do you turn around and go back to the coffee shop to return the extra $10? Do you wait until the next time you're in the coffee shop to return the money? Or do you merely pocket the extra change and chalk it up to good luck?
What would you do?
Post your thoughts here by clicking on "Comments" below or send your thoughts to rightthing@nytimes.com. Please include your name, your hometown and the name of the newspaper in which you read this column. Readers'comments may appear in an upcoming column.
Jeffrey L. Seglin, author of "The Right Thing: Conscience, Profit and Personal Responsibility in Today's Business" (Spiro Press, 2003), is an associate professor at Emerson College in Boston, where he teaches writing and ethics. He is also the administrator of http://jeffreyseglin.blogspot.com, a Web log focused on ethical issues.
Do you have ethical questions that you need answered? Send them to rightthing@nytimes.com or to "The Right Thing," New York Times Syndicate, 609 Greenwich St., 6th floor, New York, N.Y. 10014-3610.
THE FAINT AROMA OF SOUR GRAPES
At one time or another, most of us have been passed over for a job we really, really wanted. Not something that we thought would have been a nice opportunity, but something that fell squarely into the "my whole life I have been praying for this kind of chance to prove myself" category.
It's one thing to be passed over for some other candidate who's equally qualified -- or, gasp, better qualified. But what about when someone gets tapped who, in your opinion, would be a disaster in that position for the company?
In other words, to quote a reader in New York: "What do you owe your employer if they've made a decision that was not in your favor and which you think will serve them poorly?"
A friend of the reader's was being considered for a foreign assignment to train new employees. The company chose someone else who, according to the friend, has poor people skills, including impatience and general rudeness.
"Presumably the managers considered all angles of all the candidates before making their choices," my reader writes. "But I wonder if people like my friend owe it to their companies to raise their concerns."
The reader feels that the answer is "maybe," but she can't see a graceful way to do it.
"More important, is there anything to be gained at this point by being candid?" she asks. "I fear it will make my friend look petty and her bosses feel defensive."
Her friend is inclined not to say anything, thinking that it would probably come off as sour grapes. My reader agrees that it's far safer at this point to let the issue go, "but I'm not sure if it's the right thing."
My reader's concern over her friend's professional well-being is well-intentioned. And it's only natural for her friend to feel righteous indignation after a poor choice has been made in filling the spot she really wanted.
But is she obligated to alert her bosses to the damaging character traits in her colleague who got the job? No.
She's right in assuming that it would be difficult for her bosses not to register her concerns as sour grapes, but that in itself doesn't outweigh her duty as an employee to defend her employer's interests. Even if she feared being seen as biased, it would be her duty to come forward if she knew something factual about the colleague that her employers did not, something that truly might put the company in a perilous position -- for example, "She killed a man in Reno once, just to watch him die."
There is no factual issue here, however. This is essentially a judgment call -- "A is too rude to be right for this job" -- and, to be fair, it would be hard even for the employee to be sure that there wasn't some self-interest in her own feelings on this issue. Absent specific, compelling information previously unknown to her employers, there is therefore no obligation for the employee to come forward.
The friend's concerns are, after all, ones that her bosses should have uncovered in interviewing the candidate. If they missed these aspects of the candidate's personality, they did a lousy job in the screening process. It is not up to my reader's friend to set them straight on how bad a pick they've made.
It's equally likely, however, that after weighing their choice'sstrengths and weaknesses the bosses decided that, in spite of a reputation for lapsing into rudeness, that person was best suited for the assignment.
The right thing for my reader's friend to do is to trust her own instincts and let the matter lie. If their pick turns out to be the disaster she anticipates, the bosses will find out soon enough and,hopefully, take full responsibility for making a poor choice.
It's one thing to be passed over for some other candidate who's equally qualified -- or, gasp, better qualified. But what about when someone gets tapped who, in your opinion, would be a disaster in that position for the company?
In other words, to quote a reader in New York: "What do you owe your employer if they've made a decision that was not in your favor and which you think will serve them poorly?"
A friend of the reader's was being considered for a foreign assignment to train new employees. The company chose someone else who, according to the friend, has poor people skills, including impatience and general rudeness.
"Presumably the managers considered all angles of all the candidates before making their choices," my reader writes. "But I wonder if people like my friend owe it to their companies to raise their concerns."
The reader feels that the answer is "maybe," but she can't see a graceful way to do it.
"More important, is there anything to be gained at this point by being candid?" she asks. "I fear it will make my friend look petty and her bosses feel defensive."
Her friend is inclined not to say anything, thinking that it would probably come off as sour grapes. My reader agrees that it's far safer at this point to let the issue go, "but I'm not sure if it's the right thing."
My reader's concern over her friend's professional well-being is well-intentioned. And it's only natural for her friend to feel righteous indignation after a poor choice has been made in filling the spot she really wanted.
But is she obligated to alert her bosses to the damaging character traits in her colleague who got the job? No.
She's right in assuming that it would be difficult for her bosses not to register her concerns as sour grapes, but that in itself doesn't outweigh her duty as an employee to defend her employer's interests. Even if she feared being seen as biased, it would be her duty to come forward if she knew something factual about the colleague that her employers did not, something that truly might put the company in a perilous position -- for example, "She killed a man in Reno once, just to watch him die."
There is no factual issue here, however. This is essentially a judgment call -- "A is too rude to be right for this job" -- and, to be fair, it would be hard even for the employee to be sure that there wasn't some self-interest in her own feelings on this issue. Absent specific, compelling information previously unknown to her employers, there is therefore no obligation for the employee to come forward.
The friend's concerns are, after all, ones that her bosses should have uncovered in interviewing the candidate. If they missed these aspects of the candidate's personality, they did a lousy job in the screening process. It is not up to my reader's friend to set them straight on how bad a pick they've made.
It's equally likely, however, that after weighing their choice'sstrengths and weaknesses the bosses decided that, in spite of a reputation for lapsing into rudeness, that person was best suited for the assignment.
The right thing for my reader's friend to do is to trust her own instincts and let the matter lie. If their pick turns out to be the disaster she anticipates, the bosses will find out soon enough and,hopefully, take full responsibility for making a poor choice.
Sunday, June 18, 2006
THE MARRIAGE IS OVER, BUT WHO GETS THE HOUSE?
When it comes to broken engagements, etiquette experts such as Emily Post say that it's appropriate for the bride-to-have-been to return the engagement ring unless it was a heirloom from her family. But what's the right thing to do if a woman receives gifts from her husband's side of the family but the marriage eventually ends in divorce?
A.K., a reader from northern California, split with her former husband 10 years ago. About five years earlier, however, her then-husband had given her a dollhouse that his great-uncle had made.
After her ex-husband's parents passed away last year, A.K.'s son let her know that his father, aunts and uncles wanted the dollhouse back. Neither her husband nor his siblings have directly asked her to return the dollhouse, however, and she wonders whether she should.
I don't think she's in any way obliged to do so. Unless he said otherwise at the time, her ex-husband gave the dollhouse to A.K. as a gift, free and clear. Unlike an engagement ring or a wedding present, gifts made with the implied intention of solidifying the subsequent marriage and thus contingent upon the marriage taking place, the dollhouse had no such strings attached.
Had A.K.'s husband wanted to regain possession of the dollhouse, the time for him to make that argument would have been upon their divorce, as they were deciding which partner would receive which assets from the marriage.
Asking for the return of the dollhouse now would be like me expecting a childhood friend to return the 1967 Roger Maris baseball card that I gave him before we had a falling out. I might like to have it back -- last I checked, the card was going for more than a hundred bucks on eBay -- but I should have no expectation that he'll give it back simply because our relationship turned sour many, many years ago.
Granted, the dollhouse may have significant sentimental value for A.K.'s ex-husband and his side of the family. And, granted, if she hadn't married into his family, her ex-husband most likely never would have given her the dollhouse.
But A.K. did marry into the family, and her husband did give her the gift. It would be thoughtful, even generous if A.K. chose to return it to the family of its maker, but it would not be thoughtless or ungenerous if she didn't. She's under no ethical obligation to do anything, and is perfectly entitled to keep the dollhouse for as long as she wants.
Speaking of ethical obligation, if her husband and his siblings would like A.K. to return the dollhouse, they should ask her directly, rather than put A.K.'s son in the middle of a potentially tense situation. Sure, their indirect approach may reflect the strained relationship between ex-spouses and ex-in-laws, but their hesitance to make the request directly may also indicate that they know that the dollhouse sits with its rightful owner.
If they want to let A.K. know that they'd like a chance to acquire the dollhouse if she should ever decide to part with it, there's no reason no tto tell her so. But when we give someone a gift, as a general rule it's right to assume that thereafter it's someone else's, to keep through thick and thin.
A.K., a reader from northern California, split with her former husband 10 years ago. About five years earlier, however, her then-husband had given her a dollhouse that his great-uncle had made.
After her ex-husband's parents passed away last year, A.K.'s son let her know that his father, aunts and uncles wanted the dollhouse back. Neither her husband nor his siblings have directly asked her to return the dollhouse, however, and she wonders whether she should.
I don't think she's in any way obliged to do so. Unless he said otherwise at the time, her ex-husband gave the dollhouse to A.K. as a gift, free and clear. Unlike an engagement ring or a wedding present, gifts made with the implied intention of solidifying the subsequent marriage and thus contingent upon the marriage taking place, the dollhouse had no such strings attached.
Had A.K.'s husband wanted to regain possession of the dollhouse, the time for him to make that argument would have been upon their divorce, as they were deciding which partner would receive which assets from the marriage.
Asking for the return of the dollhouse now would be like me expecting a childhood friend to return the 1967 Roger Maris baseball card that I gave him before we had a falling out. I might like to have it back -- last I checked, the card was going for more than a hundred bucks on eBay -- but I should have no expectation that he'll give it back simply because our relationship turned sour many, many years ago.
Granted, the dollhouse may have significant sentimental value for A.K.'s ex-husband and his side of the family. And, granted, if she hadn't married into his family, her ex-husband most likely never would have given her the dollhouse.
But A.K. did marry into the family, and her husband did give her the gift. It would be thoughtful, even generous if A.K. chose to return it to the family of its maker, but it would not be thoughtless or ungenerous if she didn't. She's under no ethical obligation to do anything, and is perfectly entitled to keep the dollhouse for as long as she wants.
Speaking of ethical obligation, if her husband and his siblings would like A.K. to return the dollhouse, they should ask her directly, rather than put A.K.'s son in the middle of a potentially tense situation. Sure, their indirect approach may reflect the strained relationship between ex-spouses and ex-in-laws, but their hesitance to make the request directly may also indicate that they know that the dollhouse sits with its rightful owner.
If they want to let A.K. know that they'd like a chance to acquire the dollhouse if she should ever decide to part with it, there's no reason no tto tell her so. But when we give someone a gift, as a general rule it's right to assume that thereafter it's someone else's, to keep through thick and thin.
SOUND OFF: WHEN BOSSES CHEAT
In the case of the worker whose colleague confided in him that their mutual manager had asked him to use his name on an expense report to justify a minor expense, most of my readers felt that the worker should go back to the manager and tell him that, despite his initial agreement, he could not cooperate with the manager's plan.
No one disagreed with Neal White of Atlanta, who writes: "The manager should pay the expense out of his own pocket -- otherwise he is stealing."
Eva Bellinger of Sun Prairie, Wis., feels that the "person whom themanager asked to cover for him is responsible for taking action, not a third party" in whom that person happened to confide.
Judy Finnson of Vancouver, Wash., disagrees.
"If the colleague can't or won't do what's right," Finnson says, "the confidant/friend must."
E. Carroll Straus of San Juan Capistrano, Calif., agrees that, once informed of the situation, the colleague has an obligation to act.
"I would do so," he writes. "Clearly silence is complicity."
Mark Peterson of Verona, Wis., believes that the action speaks to the character of the manager, whom he describes as sounding "like a tiny little manipulator who will likely bury himself on his own sooner than later."
Bert Hoogendam of Ontario notes that, if the manager gets away with it once, his subordinate won't have heard the last of it.
"The colleague did cooperate for the first time," Hoogendam writes, "and that colleague can be assured that he can expect future requests for more bogus claims."
Check out other opinions at http://jeffreyseglin.blogspot.com/2006/05/sound-off-hearsay-on-job.html or post your own by clicking on "Comments" below.
Jeffrey L. Seglin, author of "The Right Thing: Conscience, Profit andPersonal Responsibility in Today's Business" (Spiro Press, 2003), is an associate professor at Emerson College in Boston, where he teaches writingand ethics. He is also the administrator of http://jeffreyseglin.blogspot.com, a Web log focused on ethical issues.
Do you have ethical questions that you need answered? Send them to rightthing@nytimes.com or to "The Right Thing," New York Times Syndicate, 609 Greenwich St., 6th floor, New York, N.Y. 10014-3610.
No one disagreed with Neal White of Atlanta, who writes: "The manager should pay the expense out of his own pocket -- otherwise he is stealing."
Eva Bellinger of Sun Prairie, Wis., feels that the "person whom themanager asked to cover for him is responsible for taking action, not a third party" in whom that person happened to confide.
Judy Finnson of Vancouver, Wash., disagrees.
"If the colleague can't or won't do what's right," Finnson says, "the confidant/friend must."
E. Carroll Straus of San Juan Capistrano, Calif., agrees that, once informed of the situation, the colleague has an obligation to act.
"I would do so," he writes. "Clearly silence is complicity."
Mark Peterson of Verona, Wis., believes that the action speaks to the character of the manager, whom he describes as sounding "like a tiny little manipulator who will likely bury himself on his own sooner than later."
Bert Hoogendam of Ontario notes that, if the manager gets away with it once, his subordinate won't have heard the last of it.
"The colleague did cooperate for the first time," Hoogendam writes, "and that colleague can be assured that he can expect future requests for more bogus claims."
Check out other opinions at http://jeffreyseglin.blogspot.com/2006/05/sound-off-hearsay-on-job.html or post your own by clicking on "Comments" below.
Jeffrey L. Seglin, author of "The Right Thing: Conscience, Profit andPersonal Responsibility in Today's Business" (Spiro Press, 2003), is an associate professor at Emerson College in Boston, where he teaches writingand ethics. He is also the administrator of http://jeffreyseglin.blogspot.com, a Web log focused on ethical issues.
Do you have ethical questions that you need answered? Send them to rightthing@nytimes.com or to "The Right Thing," New York Times Syndicate, 609 Greenwich St., 6th floor, New York, N.Y. 10014-3610.
Sunday, June 11, 2006
SOUND OFF: DON'T ASK, DO TELL?
When an ice-cream vendor in Charlotte, N.C., was robbed in late May, a police officer asked him about his legal status as a U.S. resident. The police chief subsequently apologized, since it is departmental policy not to ask victims about their residency status. Charlotte's mayor, concerned about immigration issues, thinks that this policy should be changed.
An editorial in The Charlotte Observer responded that the mayor "needs to back off." While those accused of crimes should have their status checked, the paper argued, checking on the status of victims or witnesses to crimes may cause them not to talk to police "for fear of being busted" if they are in the country illegally.
What do you think? Should residency status be checked on witnesses and victims who might be illegal aliens, even if this might lead to criminals getting away with serious crimes? Or should the current policy stand, because it encourages more people to come forward, report crimes and/or testify against the criminals?
Post your thoughts by clicking on "Comments" or send them to rightthing@nytimes.com. Please include your name, your hometown and the name of the newspaper in which you read this column. Readers'comments may appear in an upcoming column.
An editorial in The Charlotte Observer responded that the mayor "needs to back off." While those accused of crimes should have their status checked, the paper argued, checking on the status of victims or witnesses to crimes may cause them not to talk to police "for fear of being busted" if they are in the country illegally.
What do you think? Should residency status be checked on witnesses and victims who might be illegal aliens, even if this might lead to criminals getting away with serious crimes? Or should the current policy stand, because it encourages more people to come forward, report crimes and/or testify against the criminals?
Post your thoughts by clicking on "Comments" or send them to rightthing@nytimes.com. Please include your name, your hometown and the name of the newspaper in which you read this column. Readers'comments may appear in an upcoming column.
ONE MAN'S MISTAKE, ANOTHER MAN'S BREAK?
Everybody makes mistakes. The question is, to what extent are others entitled to benefit from them?
A friend recently told P.K. of La Crosse, Wisc., that he had purchased a wide-screen television at a discount-electronics outlet. Its price was$999, but the checkout clerk accidentally rang up $399. P.K.'s friend noticed the mistake right away, but "feeling quite lucky" he paid the $399, went home and hooked up the television.
Several hours later the store manager called, apologized for the mistake and asked P.K.'s friend to stop by to rectify the situation. His response, P.K. says, was essentially, "too bad."
"The girl at the checkout rang up $399," his friend told the manager,"and I paid what was asked. Sue me, if you'd like, and good luck trying toget the money."
P.K. says that his friend was quite proud of himself when it turned out that, as he had correctly figured, the store chose not to spend the time and money to pursue the matter.
The incident raises the question of how we should handle issues that cross ethical boundaries but may not actually be illegal, or how important it is to do the right thing when we're not likely to get caught.
P.K. wonders if his friend's behavior is any different from cutting a few corners on a tax form because everybody does it, not stopping back at the supermarket if you get too much change or even getting a free soda out of a machine because it's broken.
His sense of equivalence is indeed justified. Accepting a television set that you know was rung up for $600 less than the correct price may be different in degree from keeping a bottle of cola that should have cost you$1.25, but the intent is no different. You've accepted something that you know isn't rightly yours for the price you ended up paying.
In the case of the television set, the right thing for P.K.'s friend to have done is obvious: Having noticed the mistake while he was still in the store, he should have asked the cashier to doublecheck the price of the television and ring it up again.
The ethical situation is the same with the vending-machine cola, but it's more challenging to make good than it is in the case of P.K.'s friend and the television set. For one thing, most likely there's no one around to whom you can report the problem or to whom you can return the free soda. Plus, it is all but impossible that the owner of the machine will be able to track down the individual who has walked off with a free drink, the way the store manager did with P.K.'s friend, offering him a second opportunity -- an opportunity that he again rejected -- to do the right thing.
The right thing to do in such cases is to call the vending-machine operator -- there's usually a telephone number posted on the machine -- to report that the machine is broken. When you make the call, ask the vendor what to do with the free soda you've received. Chances are that, since you called in the problem in the first place, the vendor will tell you to keep it.
"Character," writes Robert Coles in "The Call of Stories: Teaching and the Moral Imagination" (The Call of Stories: Teaching and the Moral... ), "is how you behave when no one is looking."
That's true regardless of the value of the item questionably received and regardless of the likelihood of your getting caught.
A friend recently told P.K. of La Crosse, Wisc., that he had purchased a wide-screen television at a discount-electronics outlet. Its price was$999, but the checkout clerk accidentally rang up $399. P.K.'s friend noticed the mistake right away, but "feeling quite lucky" he paid the $399, went home and hooked up the television.
Several hours later the store manager called, apologized for the mistake and asked P.K.'s friend to stop by to rectify the situation. His response, P.K. says, was essentially, "too bad."
"The girl at the checkout rang up $399," his friend told the manager,"and I paid what was asked. Sue me, if you'd like, and good luck trying toget the money."
P.K. says that his friend was quite proud of himself when it turned out that, as he had correctly figured, the store chose not to spend the time and money to pursue the matter.
The incident raises the question of how we should handle issues that cross ethical boundaries but may not actually be illegal, or how important it is to do the right thing when we're not likely to get caught.
P.K. wonders if his friend's behavior is any different from cutting a few corners on a tax form because everybody does it, not stopping back at the supermarket if you get too much change or even getting a free soda out of a machine because it's broken.
His sense of equivalence is indeed justified. Accepting a television set that you know was rung up for $600 less than the correct price may be different in degree from keeping a bottle of cola that should have cost you$1.25, but the intent is no different. You've accepted something that you know isn't rightly yours for the price you ended up paying.
In the case of the television set, the right thing for P.K.'s friend to have done is obvious: Having noticed the mistake while he was still in the store, he should have asked the cashier to doublecheck the price of the television and ring it up again.
The ethical situation is the same with the vending-machine cola, but it's more challenging to make good than it is in the case of P.K.'s friend and the television set. For one thing, most likely there's no one around to whom you can report the problem or to whom you can return the free soda. Plus, it is all but impossible that the owner of the machine will be able to track down the individual who has walked off with a free drink, the way the store manager did with P.K.'s friend, offering him a second opportunity -- an opportunity that he again rejected -- to do the right thing.
The right thing to do in such cases is to call the vending-machine operator -- there's usually a telephone number posted on the machine -- to report that the machine is broken. When you make the call, ask the vendor what to do with the free soda you've received. Chances are that, since you called in the problem in the first place, the vendor will tell you to keep it.
"Character," writes Robert Coles in "The Call of Stories: Teaching and the Moral Imagination" (The Call of Stories: Teaching and the Moral... ), "is how you behave when no one is looking."
That's true regardless of the value of the item questionably received and regardless of the likelihood of your getting caught.
Friday, June 09, 2006
A Code of Ethics and Can Ethics Be Taught
There are two articles I wanted to bring to your attention.
The first is by Greg Burns and Jodi Cohen and appeared in the Chicago Tribune on June 7. It's titled "Can You Teach A Person Ethics?" You can find it at http://www.chicagotribune.com/news/nationworld/chi-0606070181jun07,1,2440890.story. I'm quoted in the story along with many others. The Chicago Tribune requires registration, but it's free.
The second is a review of Rabbi Joseph Telushkin's new book A Code of Jewish Ethics (A Code of Jewish Ethics: Volume 1: You Shal... ) I wrote for jbooks.com. It appears at
JBooks.com - Non-Fiction: Hed: Mistaking Our Way to Ethical Behavior.
The first is by Greg Burns and Jodi Cohen and appeared in the Chicago Tribune on June 7. It's titled "Can You Teach A Person Ethics?" You can find it at http://www.chicagotribune.com/news/nationworld/chi-0606070181jun07,1,2440890.story. I'm quoted in the story along with many others. The Chicago Tribune requires registration, but it's free.
The second is a review of Rabbi Joseph Telushkin's new book A Code of Jewish Ethics (A Code of Jewish Ethics: Volume 1: You Shal... ) I wrote for jbooks.com. It appears at
JBooks.com - Non-Fiction: Hed: Mistaking Our Way to Ethical Behavior.
Saturday, June 03, 2006
TIME TO DRAW THE LINE
"A mistake is an accident," Rabbi Joseph Telushkin writes, "while a sin is a choice."
I can't get this thought -- from Telushkin's "A Code of Jewish Ethics" ( A Code of Jewish Ethics: Volume 1: You Shal... ) -- out of my head since I read an e-mail from a reader in southern California who is faced with the dilemma of either following her boss's direction to do something that she knows is wrong or telling him no and risking the loss of a job she began barely 90 days ago.
The company for which she works requires its employees to take Web-based compliance courses. The courses are monitored, and those who do not complete them are "tagged" and informed of their noncompliance.
"Recently the person I assist has been tagged for having only 20% of the required courses completed," she writes.
My reader has already completed the courses herself. Now her boss has asked her to log in and take the courses again, this time under his name.
"I understand that, by completing these courses himself, he loses out on a day to two days of productivity," she writes, "but I do not feel it is completely honest to expect me to take the courses for him."
On the other hand, as his assistant she wants to make sure that he is productive, because that will help her in the long run. And, as a relatively new hire, she doesn't want to put her job on the line.
"I have told him that I would do it," she writes, "but now I feel that I need a second opinion. I worry that, if I don't do it, he'll pass it off to another assistant and look down upon me."
For most of us, the most difficult ethical choices we have to make aren't between right and wrong. Most of us can resolve such stark choices.It gets harder when we're faced with multiple right answers and have to select the best one.
That's not the case here, however. The assistant should not take the courses for her boss.
It was dishonest for her boss to ask someone else to complete his required courses. If she agrees to do it, she will become equally culpable. As for her job, the chances may well be greater that she'll lose the job if it's discovered that she participated in this deceit.
These sorts of situations are precisely why ethics programs are set up within companies. Most feature some mechanism that allows an employee to anonymously report suspected egregious behavior.
The reader's company has an ethics hotline. Without hesitation, the right thing to do is to report this guy. She's right to be concerned that, if she turns him down, he may simply entice someone else to do the same thing. Regardless of how productive he is, such flagrant dishonesty and such attempts to manipulate employees into doing wrong should be unacceptable at any company. If top management does nothing to investigate and stop this boss before he acts again, it is making a farce of its ethics program.
Making the choice to do nothing would be, well, sinful. That goes not only for my reader, but also for the company that employs her and her wayward boss.
I can't get this thought -- from Telushkin's "A Code of Jewish Ethics" ( A Code of Jewish Ethics: Volume 1: You Shal... ) -- out of my head since I read an e-mail from a reader in southern California who is faced with the dilemma of either following her boss's direction to do something that she knows is wrong or telling him no and risking the loss of a job she began barely 90 days ago.
The company for which she works requires its employees to take Web-based compliance courses. The courses are monitored, and those who do not complete them are "tagged" and informed of their noncompliance.
"Recently the person I assist has been tagged for having only 20% of the required courses completed," she writes.
My reader has already completed the courses herself. Now her boss has asked her to log in and take the courses again, this time under his name.
"I understand that, by completing these courses himself, he loses out on a day to two days of productivity," she writes, "but I do not feel it is completely honest to expect me to take the courses for him."
On the other hand, as his assistant she wants to make sure that he is productive, because that will help her in the long run. And, as a relatively new hire, she doesn't want to put her job on the line.
"I have told him that I would do it," she writes, "but now I feel that I need a second opinion. I worry that, if I don't do it, he'll pass it off to another assistant and look down upon me."
For most of us, the most difficult ethical choices we have to make aren't between right and wrong. Most of us can resolve such stark choices.It gets harder when we're faced with multiple right answers and have to select the best one.
That's not the case here, however. The assistant should not take the courses for her boss.
It was dishonest for her boss to ask someone else to complete his required courses. If she agrees to do it, she will become equally culpable. As for her job, the chances may well be greater that she'll lose the job if it's discovered that she participated in this deceit.
These sorts of situations are precisely why ethics programs are set up within companies. Most feature some mechanism that allows an employee to anonymously report suspected egregious behavior.
The reader's company has an ethics hotline. Without hesitation, the right thing to do is to report this guy. She's right to be concerned that, if she turns him down, he may simply entice someone else to do the same thing. Regardless of how productive he is, such flagrant dishonesty and such attempts to manipulate employees into doing wrong should be unacceptable at any company. If top management does nothing to investigate and stop this boss before he acts again, it is making a farce of its ethics program.
Making the choice to do nothing would be, well, sinful. That goes not only for my reader, but also for the company that employs her and her wayward boss.
SOUND OFF: BEST INTENTIONS
In a recent episode of the television medical drama "House," doctors had to decide whether to inform an organ donor that her partner, to whom she was planning to donate part of her liver, had told one of the doctors that she planned to leave the donor. The lead doctor warned his colleagues not to disclose the information, since it might dissuade the partner from making the donation. Did he make the right call?
"I think Dr. House made the right decision," writes Eileen Chitruk of Windsor, Ontario, and most of my readers who responded agreed with her.
It's a no-brainer for Phillip Brandt of Costa Mesa, Calif., who believes that the disclosure should be covered by doctor/patient privilege.
Emmanuel Tchividjian of New York agrees. "The information of the patient planning to leave her partner was most probably given in confidence and the doctor has no right to divulge it,"Tchividjian writes. "There is also the possibility that the patient might change her mind about leaving her partner because of her generosity." Check out other opinions or post your own at: http://jeffreyseglin.blogspot.com. (The original question was posted at
http://jeffreyseglin.blogspot.com/2006/04/truth-and-consequences.html.)
Jeffrey L. Seglin, author of "The Right Thing: Conscience, Profit and Personal Responsibility in Today's Business" (Spiro Press, 2003), is an associate professor at Emerson College in Boston, where he teaches writing and ethics. He is also the administrator of http://jeffreyseglin.blogspot.com, a Web log focused on ethical issues.
Do you have ethical questions that you need answered? Send them to rightthing@nytimes.com or to "The Right Thing," New York Times Syndicate, 609 Greenwich St., 6th floor, New York, N.Y. 10014-3610.
"I think Dr. House made the right decision," writes Eileen Chitruk of Windsor, Ontario, and most of my readers who responded agreed with her.
It's a no-brainer for Phillip Brandt of Costa Mesa, Calif., who believes that the disclosure should be covered by doctor/patient privilege.
Emmanuel Tchividjian of New York agrees. "The information of the patient planning to leave her partner was most probably given in confidence and the doctor has no right to divulge it,"Tchividjian writes. "There is also the possibility that the patient might change her mind about leaving her partner because of her generosity." Check out other opinions or post your own at: http://jeffreyseglin.blogspot.com. (The original question was posted at
http://jeffreyseglin.blogspot.com/2006/04/truth-and-consequences.html.)
Jeffrey L. Seglin, author of "The Right Thing: Conscience, Profit and Personal Responsibility in Today's Business" (Spiro Press, 2003), is an associate professor at Emerson College in Boston, where he teaches writing and ethics. He is also the administrator of http://jeffreyseglin.blogspot.com, a Web log focused on ethical issues.
Do you have ethical questions that you need answered? Send them to rightthing@nytimes.com or to "The Right Thing," New York Times Syndicate, 609 Greenwich St., 6th floor, New York, N.Y. 10014-3610.
Friday, May 26, 2006
PLAYING IT THE COMPANY WAY, AFTER HOURS
[THIS COLUMN ORIGINALLY APPEARED IN THE SUNDAY NEW YORK TIMES ON FEBRUARY 20, 2000. IT IS REFERRED TO IN "THE RIGHT THING" COLUMN FOR MAY 28, 2006, POSTED AT http://jeffreyseglin.blogspot.com/2006/05/sound-off-giving-against-grain.html.]
THE RIGHT THING: Playing It the Company Way, After Hours
MANAGEMENT at the Bank of America thought it had a winner. In a program called "Adopt an A.T.M.," begun last June, the bank asked employees to volunteer to look after one of its automated teller machines and to keep the machine's surroundings gleaming with pride -- on their own time and without pay.
"We thought it was a great idea," said Kieth Cockrell, executive vice president in Charlotte, N.C., of the bank's credit, debit and smart-card division, which oversaw the program. More than 2,800 of the bank's 158,900 workers signed up to adopt one of the bank's more than 10,000 teller machines.
But when Marcy V. Saunders, the California state labor commissioner, read about the program, she hit the ceiling. She wrote to the bank, saying the program seemed to her in clear violation of "basic precepts of wage and hour law" and demanding that the volunteers be paid or that the program be discontinued within 10 days. The bank met with Ms. Saunders to see if it could satisfy her objections, but rather than comply with the requested changes, it suspended the program and instead set up a toll-free number for employees to report problems at A.T.M.'s.
Even if asking employees to work for nothing were legal, though, the program would have raised important ethical questions about the nature of the company-employee relationship. Not least is the issue of reciprocity. Does an employer that counts on its workers to further its interests during their off hours, gratis, have a right to discipline workers who handle personal business during office hours?
"Companies feel perfectly free to infringe upon employees' time, while not necessarily being extremely flexible when it comes to employees' demand for time," said Daryl Koehn, director of the Center for Business Ethics at the University of St. Thomas in Houston.
On this front, Bank of America's policy is fairly vague. "In our code of ethics," said Ann L. DeFabio, a bank spokeswoman, "basically it just says that the proper use of Bank of America assets is essential to the financial soundness and integrity of the bank." But it is not likely that a giant bank would see much equivalence between, say, employees' using company postage to pay personal bills and using their own paper towels to clean A.T.M. screens.
It is a common ethical disconnect. Most businesses think nothing of expecting extra miles from employees, and are shocked when they are called on it. They automatically think of the employee's commitment to the company as open-ended, but draw a sharp line around the company's commitment to the employee.
Some critics see cynical, deliberate exploitativeness in such attitudes. By and large I don't doubt the employers' good intentions -- just their logic. Still, plans like "Adopt an A.T.M." bespeak a patronizing arrogance, an assumption that company pride is reason enough for employees to give and give some more -- and never mind whether the company gives anything back.
"Quite often the leaders really are doing what they think is in the best interests of the company," said Michelle L. Reina, co-author of "Trust and Betrayal in the Workplace." (Berrett-Kohler, 1999) "They do at times tend to forget the individuals involved. When they get the type of response they're getting in this particular case, they are caught off guard. And at times they feel betrayed in response."
On the surface, such indignation might seem justified. "From an ethical perspective, Bank of America is doing nothing wrong" with the program itself, said Laura P. Hartman, a professor of business ethics at the University of Wisconsin. "The ethical issues come up where there is undue influence of an inappropriate nature."
That is a potentially fatal flaw inherent in any "voluntary" program handed down from management, particularly one tied to company business: there is subtle coercion just in asking, because some employees won't feel free to say no, regardless of how big the word "voluntary" is on the flier.
Employees who truly love the bank enough to freely volunteer for such a program are probably already picking up any litter they find near an A.T.M. -- without having to be asked. Beyond that, all a formal adoption program could accomplish is inducing less-than-willing employees to join the unpaid tidiers. That's why it struck so many as unfair.
THE RIGHT THING: Playing It the Company Way, After Hours
MANAGEMENT at the Bank of America thought it had a winner. In a program called "Adopt an A.T.M.," begun last June, the bank asked employees to volunteer to look after one of its automated teller machines and to keep the machine's surroundings gleaming with pride -- on their own time and without pay.
"We thought it was a great idea," said Kieth Cockrell, executive vice president in Charlotte, N.C., of the bank's credit, debit and smart-card division, which oversaw the program. More than 2,800 of the bank's 158,900 workers signed up to adopt one of the bank's more than 10,000 teller machines.
But when Marcy V. Saunders, the California state labor commissioner, read about the program, she hit the ceiling. She wrote to the bank, saying the program seemed to her in clear violation of "basic precepts of wage and hour law" and demanding that the volunteers be paid or that the program be discontinued within 10 days. The bank met with Ms. Saunders to see if it could satisfy her objections, but rather than comply with the requested changes, it suspended the program and instead set up a toll-free number for employees to report problems at A.T.M.'s.
Even if asking employees to work for nothing were legal, though, the program would have raised important ethical questions about the nature of the company-employee relationship. Not least is the issue of reciprocity. Does an employer that counts on its workers to further its interests during their off hours, gratis, have a right to discipline workers who handle personal business during office hours?
"Companies feel perfectly free to infringe upon employees' time, while not necessarily being extremely flexible when it comes to employees' demand for time," said Daryl Koehn, director of the Center for Business Ethics at the University of St. Thomas in Houston.
On this front, Bank of America's policy is fairly vague. "In our code of ethics," said Ann L. DeFabio, a bank spokeswoman, "basically it just says that the proper use of Bank of America assets is essential to the financial soundness and integrity of the bank." But it is not likely that a giant bank would see much equivalence between, say, employees' using company postage to pay personal bills and using their own paper towels to clean A.T.M. screens.
It is a common ethical disconnect. Most businesses think nothing of expecting extra miles from employees, and are shocked when they are called on it. They automatically think of the employee's commitment to the company as open-ended, but draw a sharp line around the company's commitment to the employee.
Some critics see cynical, deliberate exploitativeness in such attitudes. By and large I don't doubt the employers' good intentions -- just their logic. Still, plans like "Adopt an A.T.M." bespeak a patronizing arrogance, an assumption that company pride is reason enough for employees to give and give some more -- and never mind whether the company gives anything back.
"Quite often the leaders really are doing what they think is in the best interests of the company," said Michelle L. Reina, co-author of "Trust and Betrayal in the Workplace." (Berrett-Kohler, 1999) "They do at times tend to forget the individuals involved. When they get the type of response they're getting in this particular case, they are caught off guard. And at times they feel betrayed in response."
On the surface, such indignation might seem justified. "From an ethical perspective, Bank of America is doing nothing wrong" with the program itself, said Laura P. Hartman, a professor of business ethics at the University of Wisconsin. "The ethical issues come up where there is undue influence of an inappropriate nature."
That is a potentially fatal flaw inherent in any "voluntary" program handed down from management, particularly one tied to company business: there is subtle coercion just in asking, because some employees won't feel free to say no, regardless of how big the word "voluntary" is on the flier.
Employees who truly love the bank enough to freely volunteer for such a program are probably already picking up any litter they find near an A.T.M. -- without having to be asked. Beyond that, all a formal adoption program could accomplish is inducing less-than-willing employees to join the unpaid tidiers. That's why it struck so many as unfair.
SOUND OFF: GIVING AGAINST THE GRAIN
Each year many companies sponsor companywide campaigns to raise funds for particular charitable organizations. Often a single manager is designated to spearhead the effort, with the results compared to those of his or her predecessors.
Under these circumstances the pressure on that manager to get full employee participation is great, and that pressure is often passed on to the company's employees, who routinely receive memos on the importance of their participation. Many may fear that not giving to the cause will mark them in the eyes of management as someone who is not a "team player."
Still, many charities that do good work for good causes depend on such company drives to keep them funded.
Do you think that it's right for companies to sponsor such charitable drives in the workplace?
Send your thoughts to rightthing@nytimes.com or post them at http://jeffreyseglin.blogspot.com. Please include your name, your hometown and the name of the newspaper in which you read this column. Readers'comments may appear in an upcoming column.
Do you have ethical questions that you need answered? Send them to rightthing@nytimes.com or to "The Right Thing," New York Times Syndicate, 609 Greenwich St., 6th floor, New York, N.Y. 10014-3610.
Under these circumstances the pressure on that manager to get full employee participation is great, and that pressure is often passed on to the company's employees, who routinely receive memos on the importance of their participation. Many may fear that not giving to the cause will mark them in the eyes of management as someone who is not a "team player."
Still, many charities that do good work for good causes depend on such company drives to keep them funded.
Do you think that it's right for companies to sponsor such charitable drives in the workplace?
Send your thoughts to rightthing@nytimes.com or post them at http://jeffreyseglin.blogspot.com. Please include your name, your hometown and the name of the newspaper in which you read this column. Readers'comments may appear in an upcoming column.
Do you have ethical questions that you need answered? Send them to rightthing@nytimes.com or to "The Right Thing," New York Times Syndicate, 609 Greenwich St., 6th floor, New York, N.Y. 10014-3610.
OFFERS WE CAN'T REFUSE
Several years ago I wrote about "Adopt an ATM," a program that Bank of America had launched for its employees. Each employee was asked to look after one of the bank's automated-teller machines and to keep the area surrounding it tidy. Employees were to do this on their own time and without pay.
The program was terminated after California's state labor commissioner wrote the bank to say that she thought the program violated wage and hour laws. If the program was to continue, she said, the volunteers would have to be paid. (The "Adopt an ATM" column is posted at http://jeffreyseglin.blogspot.com/2006/05/playing-it-company-way-after-hours.html.)
When a person in a position to help your career asks you to "volunteer" to do something, it places the requester in a position of undue influence. Some employees may simply feel unable to say "no," regardless of how much the "voluntary" aspect is stressed.
Such situations run the gamut from a pitch by a boss selling Girl Scout cookies on behalf of his daughter to a companywide drive to get all employees to contribute to a specific charity. The lingering question is: If I don't do as requested, will it harm my fortunes in the workplace?
The same holds true when dealing with customers. Last Christmas D.C., a reader who runs a messenger service in southern California, received a letter from one of his most important customers that read: "The holiday season is rapidly approaching and our company Christmas party is being organized. I would like to offer your company the opportunity to make a donation for this year's holiday party. Your acceptance of this offer is appreciated and admired by the entire family here at our company."
D.C. didn't like the pitch, but nonetheless felt that he had to offer something.
"When we found out that another messenger service also used by our customer was sending a check for double the amount of our intended offering," he writes, "we felt compelled to match their $500 check."
He was perplexed by the "audacity" of the customer, he writes, and by the clearly implied "We expect you to contribute."
"In the more than 30 years that I have been in business," D.C. writes,"this is the first time that a customer ever asked me to donate to their company party. Were we correct in questioning our customer's ethics?"
D.C., and anyone else in a similar position, certainly has a right to resent the situation on ethical grounds. A "request" of this nature putsthe recipient in the position of having to decide whether to contribute to something he or she would rather not, or to not contribute and risk losing a customer's future business to competitors who play along. Deliberately or not, the company is taking advantage of its relationship to your business,and that's unethical -- one small step short of soliciting a kickback.
What's more, it's just plain gauche. You're being asked to help pay for a party you're not even invited to!
The challenge, of course, is to decide whether you're willing to risk future business with the company by letting it know how uncomfortable you are with the solicitation. Though vexed, D.C. was unwilling to take such a gamble.
If the situation nags at D.C., the right thing would be for him to follow the lead of many other companies which have policies that prohibit giving or receiving gifts from vendors or customers. If his company makes that policy clear from the outset to all people and companies with whom he does business, such thorny situations will be simpler to smooth out.
The program was terminated after California's state labor commissioner wrote the bank to say that she thought the program violated wage and hour laws. If the program was to continue, she said, the volunteers would have to be paid. (The "Adopt an ATM" column is posted at http://jeffreyseglin.blogspot.com/2006/05/playing-it-company-way-after-hours.html.)
When a person in a position to help your career asks you to "volunteer" to do something, it places the requester in a position of undue influence. Some employees may simply feel unable to say "no," regardless of how much the "voluntary" aspect is stressed.
Such situations run the gamut from a pitch by a boss selling Girl Scout cookies on behalf of his daughter to a companywide drive to get all employees to contribute to a specific charity. The lingering question is: If I don't do as requested, will it harm my fortunes in the workplace?
The same holds true when dealing with customers. Last Christmas D.C., a reader who runs a messenger service in southern California, received a letter from one of his most important customers that read: "The holiday season is rapidly approaching and our company Christmas party is being organized. I would like to offer your company the opportunity to make a donation for this year's holiday party. Your acceptance of this offer is appreciated and admired by the entire family here at our company."
D.C. didn't like the pitch, but nonetheless felt that he had to offer something.
"When we found out that another messenger service also used by our customer was sending a check for double the amount of our intended offering," he writes, "we felt compelled to match their $500 check."
He was perplexed by the "audacity" of the customer, he writes, and by the clearly implied "We expect you to contribute."
"In the more than 30 years that I have been in business," D.C. writes,"this is the first time that a customer ever asked me to donate to their company party. Were we correct in questioning our customer's ethics?"
D.C., and anyone else in a similar position, certainly has a right to resent the situation on ethical grounds. A "request" of this nature putsthe recipient in the position of having to decide whether to contribute to something he or she would rather not, or to not contribute and risk losing a customer's future business to competitors who play along. Deliberately or not, the company is taking advantage of its relationship to your business,and that's unethical -- one small step short of soliciting a kickback.
What's more, it's just plain gauche. You're being asked to help pay for a party you're not even invited to!
The challenge, of course, is to decide whether you're willing to risk future business with the company by letting it know how uncomfortable you are with the solicitation. Though vexed, D.C. was unwilling to take such a gamble.
If the situation nags at D.C., the right thing would be for him to follow the lead of many other companies which have policies that prohibit giving or receiving gifts from vendors or customers. If his company makes that policy clear from the outset to all people and companies with whom he does business, such thorny situations will be simpler to smooth out.
Friday, May 19, 2006
BETWEEN A CURB AND A HARD PLACE
I don't enjoy getting calls from telemarketers. I signed up for the federal do-not-call list as soon as I could, but not-for-profit organizations are not bound by this list, so I still get calls.
My general rule of thumb is that I don't commit to giving money over the telephone. If an organization or cause sounds like something that my wife and I might contribute to, I ask the caller to send information. If he or she is persistent about extracting money from me during the telephone call, I say no and hang up. No matter the cause, I feel absolutely no guilt.
My wife and I donate regularly to a variety of not-for-profits, but we like to have a clear idea of what we're donating to and to be comfortable with the organization's goals and practices. And we don't like feeling strong-armed into making a donation.
Joe Read, an aptly named reader from southern California, isn't troubled by pesky telephone calls. Instead he has people showing up at his house seeking a $10 donation in recognition of a newly painted curb address in front of his house.
Read knew it was coming. He had received a notice from the city announcing that a certain not-for-profit organization had received permission to repaint all curb addresses on public streets. Once the job was completed, Read and other residents were advised, a representative of the not-for-profit would stop by to give everyone an opportunity to make a tax-deductible donation. The notice made clear that residents would be under no obligation to contribute.
"The estimated value of this service is $10," the notice added."However, all donations are greatly appreciated, and every $10 received will feed a family for one week."
Read is sympathetic to people needing food, he writes, but he's also skeptical that all of that fee will go directly to those in need.
"Giving where I know my money directly provides help makes me feel good," he writes. "Giving where I can visualize that I'm lining the pockets of an entrepreneur who is leveraging `free meals to the needy' doesn't make me feel good."
He's also not crazy about the fact that the city is apparently not paying for the curb painting "and those curbs belong to them, not me."
Because he considers the maneuver to be a moral squeeze play by the city to escape paying for what it should, he's not going to make a donation. But, he writes, he's "trying to keep from feeling like a bastard for not doing so."
Read should have no guilt whatsoever if he declines to contribute. However, there's also no reason for the town administrators to have second thoughts about an innovative solution to getting the street numbers repainted, which will presumably assist mail carriers, police, ambulance drivers and private citizens in finding the right houses, especially at night. In these tight times, getting the job done without spending taxpayer money is itself a laudable accomplishment.
If Read's real hang-up is worry that his $10 might not go directly to help feed the poor, he should research this particular not-for-profit to see what percentage of its donations goes directly to the cause and what percentage to administrative costs.
The right thing for Read to do is to decide whether this not-for-profit is one whose work he wants to support, regardless of the freshness of the curb number in front of his house. If the group meets his standards, he can donate as much as he likes. If it doesn't, he can politely decline the solicitation.
In either case, his situation is similar to that of someone receiving the free return-address labels that some charities send out in the hope that recipients will make a contribution in exchange. Because he didn't request the service, he has no ethical obligation to pay for it -- especially since, unlike the return-address labels, this service is one that he considers a favor to the city, not to him.
If he decides not to make a contribution to this group, there are plenty of other organizations to which he can give his money and feel good about it.
My general rule of thumb is that I don't commit to giving money over the telephone. If an organization or cause sounds like something that my wife and I might contribute to, I ask the caller to send information. If he or she is persistent about extracting money from me during the telephone call, I say no and hang up. No matter the cause, I feel absolutely no guilt.
My wife and I donate regularly to a variety of not-for-profits, but we like to have a clear idea of what we're donating to and to be comfortable with the organization's goals and practices. And we don't like feeling strong-armed into making a donation.
Joe Read, an aptly named reader from southern California, isn't troubled by pesky telephone calls. Instead he has people showing up at his house seeking a $10 donation in recognition of a newly painted curb address in front of his house.
Read knew it was coming. He had received a notice from the city announcing that a certain not-for-profit organization had received permission to repaint all curb addresses on public streets. Once the job was completed, Read and other residents were advised, a representative of the not-for-profit would stop by to give everyone an opportunity to make a tax-deductible donation. The notice made clear that residents would be under no obligation to contribute.
"The estimated value of this service is $10," the notice added."However, all donations are greatly appreciated, and every $10 received will feed a family for one week."
Read is sympathetic to people needing food, he writes, but he's also skeptical that all of that fee will go directly to those in need.
"Giving where I know my money directly provides help makes me feel good," he writes. "Giving where I can visualize that I'm lining the pockets of an entrepreneur who is leveraging `free meals to the needy' doesn't make me feel good."
He's also not crazy about the fact that the city is apparently not paying for the curb painting "and those curbs belong to them, not me."
Because he considers the maneuver to be a moral squeeze play by the city to escape paying for what it should, he's not going to make a donation. But, he writes, he's "trying to keep from feeling like a bastard for not doing so."
Read should have no guilt whatsoever if he declines to contribute. However, there's also no reason for the town administrators to have second thoughts about an innovative solution to getting the street numbers repainted, which will presumably assist mail carriers, police, ambulance drivers and private citizens in finding the right houses, especially at night. In these tight times, getting the job done without spending taxpayer money is itself a laudable accomplishment.
If Read's real hang-up is worry that his $10 might not go directly to help feed the poor, he should research this particular not-for-profit to see what percentage of its donations goes directly to the cause and what percentage to administrative costs.
The right thing for Read to do is to decide whether this not-for-profit is one whose work he wants to support, regardless of the freshness of the curb number in front of his house. If the group meets his standards, he can donate as much as he likes. If it doesn't, he can politely decline the solicitation.
In either case, his situation is similar to that of someone receiving the free return-address labels that some charities send out in the hope that recipients will make a contribution in exchange. Because he didn't request the service, he has no ethical obligation to pay for it -- especially since, unlike the return-address labels, this service is one that he considers a favor to the city, not to him.
If he decides not to make a contribution to this group, there are plenty of other organizations to which he can give his money and feel good about it.
SOUND OFF: JAILED BUT NOT CONVICTED
Should prisoners awaiting trial receive different treatment from those convicted of crimes? Sheriff Thomas Hodgson of Bristol County, Mass.,thinks not, but when I asked my readers, many disagreed. "The detainee should definitely be treated differently from a convicted felon," writes Don Hull of Costa Mesa, Calif. "Until you are convicted, you are not a criminal, so the sheriff is simply being an SOB to treat detainees as if they were criminals."
Tom Guzzetta of Mission Viejo, Calif., agrees. If a defendant has entered a plea of not guilty, Guzzetta argues, the defendant "has not lost any constitutional rights and should not be treated like he or she has."
But Gail Liles of Windsor, Ontario, believes that too often criminals manipulate the system so that they "have it made due to the time they spend `waiting' for trial."
The pretrial time spent in jail often counts toward a sentence if they're found guilty of a crime, she writes. She finds no justice in these "taps on the wrist," particularly for those found guilty of violent assault.
Check out other opinions or post your own at: http://jeffreyseglin.blogspot.com.
Jeffrey L. Seglin, author of "The Right Thing: Conscience, Profit and Personal Responsibility in Today's Business" (Spiro Press, 2003), is an associate professor at Emerson College in Boston, where he teaches writing and ethics. He is also the administrator of http://jeffreyseglin.blogspot.com, a Web log focused on ethical issues.
Do you have ethical questions that you need answered? Send them to rightthing@nytimes.com or to "The Right Thing," New York Times Syndicate, 609 Greenwich St., 6th floor, New York, N.Y. 10014-3610.
Tom Guzzetta of Mission Viejo, Calif., agrees. If a defendant has entered a plea of not guilty, Guzzetta argues, the defendant "has not lost any constitutional rights and should not be treated like he or she has."
But Gail Liles of Windsor, Ontario, believes that too often criminals manipulate the system so that they "have it made due to the time they spend `waiting' for trial."
The pretrial time spent in jail often counts toward a sentence if they're found guilty of a crime, she writes. She finds no justice in these "taps on the wrist," particularly for those found guilty of violent assault.
Check out other opinions or post your own at: http://jeffreyseglin.blogspot.com.
Jeffrey L. Seglin, author of "The Right Thing: Conscience, Profit and Personal Responsibility in Today's Business" (Spiro Press, 2003), is an associate professor at Emerson College in Boston, where he teaches writing and ethics. He is also the administrator of http://jeffreyseglin.blogspot.com, a Web log focused on ethical issues.
Do you have ethical questions that you need answered? Send them to rightthing@nytimes.com or to "The Right Thing," New York Times Syndicate, 609 Greenwich St., 6th floor, New York, N.Y. 10014-3610.
Friday, May 12, 2006
CAN TRUTH BE TOLD WHEN USING SELECTIVE INFORMATION?
[This column originally appeared in the Sunday New York Times on August 17, 2003.]
IN "Glengarry Glen Ross," David Mamet's play about cutthroat salesmen trying to move less-than-alluring residential real estate, the overarching mantra was "always be closing." The message was this: Do what it takes to sell property to the unsuspecting, even if that means being selective in what you disclose about the houses you want to unload.
The characters in the play may be extreme examples, but the practice of businesses selectively using information to sell products is widespread. "Selective marketing is basically emphasizing the positive elements of whatever goods you have," said Stuart C. Gilman, president of the Ethics Resource Center in Washington.
"You can say that it's unfair, but it's absolutely reasonable. In a marketplace you expect people to make sensible decisions."
Is it fair, then, for politicians to use such selectivity when trying to sell a policy to their constituencies? The question was brought to the forefront by news reports that President Bush, in his State of the Union address in January, might have staked part of his support for a war against Iraq on doubtful British intelligence suggesting that Iraq had tried to buy uranium for nuclear weapons from Niger. If the president's staff couldn't find United States intelligence to support the allegation, was it wrong to selectively use foreign intelligence to make his point?
"Since I've been involved in campaigns, it's always been within the strike zone to use selective information," said James Carville, a former adviser to President Bill Clinton and a current co-host of "Crossfire" on CNN. "But the obligation to tell the truth is heightened when one is proposing to start a war as opposed to proposing to put a television spot up.
"Business marketing and politics often overlap in election campaigns. Someone vying for office is essentially trying to sell himself to voters. "When you are campaigning, you're like the businessman who has a limited responsibility, a limited set of people to whom you owe something," said Alan Wolfe, director of the Boisi Center for Religion and American Public Life at Boston College and author of "Moral Freedom: The Search for Virtue in a World of Choice" (W. W. Norton).
But, increasingly, because of the fund-raising involved in running for national office, "you have to be in an almost permanent campaign mode," said David Gergen, now a professor of public service at the Kennedy School of Government at Harvard, who was an adviser to four presidents. "In politics, you fall into the trap of short-termism. You do whatever it takes to keep the headlines up today." This short-term thinking is not dissimilar to what causes some businesses to make poor decisions in trying to bolster stock prices or earnings reports.
"The trap of the permanent campaign is that you diminish statesmanship," Professor Gergen said. "Statesmen rise above the daily concern and look to the long haul."
BUT it's difficult to affect the long haul if you find yourself voted out of office. For that reason, Dick Morris, a former adviser to Mr.Clinton and the author of "Off with Their Heads: Traitors, Crooks and Obstructionists in American Politics, Media and Business" (Regan Books, 2003), said he thinks that "using polling and all of the tools of an election to help you govern is a good thing."
"It gets the president to be very aggressive in figuring out what he can do in an active way really to help the country," he added. "The motivation is to govern well so he can get elected.
"Even if President Bush has to campaign constantly and, as a result, selectively uses information to sell his message, we still expect him to tell the truth. "If they decided to lie to make the case stronger that's simply unethical," said Mr. Gilman, who was a senior official at the United States Office of Government Ethics from 1988 to 2001. Mr. Gilman said he hopes that the president "got one bad piece of intelligence and the rest was correct."
Some political analysts say President Bush crossed a line in selectively using information by pointing to British intelligence to make an argument, when American intelligence doubted the claim. "As in all marketing, when you go too far, it creates a small cloud over you about credibility," Professor Gergen said.
There's more at stake when President Bush selectively uses information than when a business executive tries to move a product. The president's role clearly distinguishes his unique moral responsibility. As an executive, you don't order young men and women to give up their lives for a cause.
IN "Glengarry Glen Ross," David Mamet's play about cutthroat salesmen trying to move less-than-alluring residential real estate, the overarching mantra was "always be closing." The message was this: Do what it takes to sell property to the unsuspecting, even if that means being selective in what you disclose about the houses you want to unload.
The characters in the play may be extreme examples, but the practice of businesses selectively using information to sell products is widespread. "Selective marketing is basically emphasizing the positive elements of whatever goods you have," said Stuart C. Gilman, president of the Ethics Resource Center in Washington.
"You can say that it's unfair, but it's absolutely reasonable. In a marketplace you expect people to make sensible decisions."
Is it fair, then, for politicians to use such selectivity when trying to sell a policy to their constituencies? The question was brought to the forefront by news reports that President Bush, in his State of the Union address in January, might have staked part of his support for a war against Iraq on doubtful British intelligence suggesting that Iraq had tried to buy uranium for nuclear weapons from Niger. If the president's staff couldn't find United States intelligence to support the allegation, was it wrong to selectively use foreign intelligence to make his point?
"Since I've been involved in campaigns, it's always been within the strike zone to use selective information," said James Carville, a former adviser to President Bill Clinton and a current co-host of "Crossfire" on CNN. "But the obligation to tell the truth is heightened when one is proposing to start a war as opposed to proposing to put a television spot up.
"Business marketing and politics often overlap in election campaigns. Someone vying for office is essentially trying to sell himself to voters. "When you are campaigning, you're like the businessman who has a limited responsibility, a limited set of people to whom you owe something," said Alan Wolfe, director of the Boisi Center for Religion and American Public Life at Boston College and author of "Moral Freedom: The Search for Virtue in a World of Choice" (W. W. Norton).
But, increasingly, because of the fund-raising involved in running for national office, "you have to be in an almost permanent campaign mode," said David Gergen, now a professor of public service at the Kennedy School of Government at Harvard, who was an adviser to four presidents. "In politics, you fall into the trap of short-termism. You do whatever it takes to keep the headlines up today." This short-term thinking is not dissimilar to what causes some businesses to make poor decisions in trying to bolster stock prices or earnings reports.
"The trap of the permanent campaign is that you diminish statesmanship," Professor Gergen said. "Statesmen rise above the daily concern and look to the long haul."
BUT it's difficult to affect the long haul if you find yourself voted out of office. For that reason, Dick Morris, a former adviser to Mr.Clinton and the author of "Off with Their Heads: Traitors, Crooks and Obstructionists in American Politics, Media and Business" (Regan Books, 2003), said he thinks that "using polling and all of the tools of an election to help you govern is a good thing."
"It gets the president to be very aggressive in figuring out what he can do in an active way really to help the country," he added. "The motivation is to govern well so he can get elected.
"Even if President Bush has to campaign constantly and, as a result, selectively uses information to sell his message, we still expect him to tell the truth. "If they decided to lie to make the case stronger that's simply unethical," said Mr. Gilman, who was a senior official at the United States Office of Government Ethics from 1988 to 2001. Mr. Gilman said he hopes that the president "got one bad piece of intelligence and the rest was correct."
Some political analysts say President Bush crossed a line in selectively using information by pointing to British intelligence to make an argument, when American intelligence doubted the claim. "As in all marketing, when you go too far, it creates a small cloud over you about credibility," Professor Gergen said.
There's more at stake when President Bush selectively uses information than when a business executive tries to move a product. The president's role clearly distinguishes his unique moral responsibility. As an executive, you don't order young men and women to give up their lives for a cause.
SOUND OFF: HEARSAY ON THE JOB
A colleague at work takes you aside and tells you that your manager asked him if he could use his name on an expense report to justify an expense that really wasn't business-related. It's a minor expense -- say, the cost of a meal at a nearby restaurant. The colleague agreed, but felt uneasy about it. Now he has confided in you.
Do you feel obliged to confront your manager? to tell his boss? or to strongly encourage your colleague to do either? Or, because you weren't directly involved in the situation and you didn't actually see the expense report in question, is it best to do nothing?
Send your thoughts to rightthing@nytimes.com or post them here by clicking on COMMENTS below. Please include your name, your hometown and the name of the newspaper in which you read this column. Readers'comments may appear in an upcoming column.
Do you have ethical questions that you need answered? Send them to rightthing@nytimes.com or to "The Right Thing," New York Times Syndicate, 609 Greenwich St., 6th floor, New York, N.Y. 10014-3610.
Do you feel obliged to confront your manager? to tell his boss? or to strongly encourage your colleague to do either? Or, because you weren't directly involved in the situation and you didn't actually see the expense report in question, is it best to do nothing?
Send your thoughts to rightthing@nytimes.com or post them here by clicking on COMMENTS below. Please include your name, your hometown and the name of the newspaper in which you read this column. Readers'comments may appear in an upcoming column.
Do you have ethical questions that you need answered? Send them to rightthing@nytimes.com or to "The Right Thing," New York Times Syndicate, 609 Greenwich St., 6th floor, New York, N.Y. 10014-3610.
WHEN ETHICS STEPS ASIDE
Not everything that's wrong is a breach of ethics. Despite what some people seem to think, it's possible to simply be wrong without being morally culpable.
The other day an old friend called to ask my advice. A consultant he had hired was having trouble meeting agreed-upon deadlines, and my friend had discovered that the consultant had taken on another project with someone affiliated with his business. The new client was not a competitor, but my friend believed that the time the consultant spent on this new project was causing him to miss his deadlines on my friend's project. He wanted to know if he would be on solid ground in questioning the consultant's ethics.
The consultant clearly was late in delivering what he had promised, but -- beyond his not keeping the promise implicit in every agreed-upon schedule -- I didn't see any ethical breach. There were no restrictions on the consultant taking other jobs.
My friend didn't have an ethical problem on his hands, in short. He had a management problem, namely, how to get the consultant to deliver on time.
But my friend was in an all-too-familiar position. Instead of addressing the challenging management issue, he felt that he would have a more powerful argument if he could attribute the consultant's behavior to some ethical breach. That sort of thinking is misleading, however, because the attempt to place the other person on the defensive elevates the problem to a moral issue and distracts attention from the real problem at hand.
The tendency to shove tough decisions onto the ethical battlefield isn't limited to the workplace, of course.
D.T., a reader from Orange County, Calif., wrote me recently with one such example. She and her boyfriend are planning to marry by the end of the summer. Each of them has children from previous marriages.
Her son is 21 years old. He works and pays for his own college and personal expenses. Her fiance's son and daughter are 13 and 9, respectively. They live with their mother in another state, and her fiance pays more than $1,000 a month in child support.
The couple has drawn up a prenuptial agreement regarding their premarital assets. They plan to commingle most of the assets they accumulate after they are married.
But they are at odds over their wills. D.T. believes that the surviving spouse should agree to divide whatever remaining assets the couple may have so that her son gets half and her fiance's children each get one-quarter.
"He feels that we should think of them as `our' children and divide assets three ways," she writes.
She is writing to me to ask what would be the most ethical thing to do here.
While D.T.'s fiance may have a good idea in thinking of all the children as simply "theirs," there's nothing unethical about either of their approaches. As long as each is honest with the other about his or her intentions, either solution would be a sound one from an ethical perspective.
What they're facing is a good, old-fashioned disagreement. The right thing to do is to take the time to talk through their differences, explore both options as well as any other alternatives, and find a decision that satisfies both of them.
The risk of seeking the ethical upper hand in resolving day-to-day issues is that it removes one of the key responsibilities that each of us bears: to learn how to deal with people who occasionally see the world differently from us.
That's a valuable lesson for anyone, particularly those who are headed into marriage.
The other day an old friend called to ask my advice. A consultant he had hired was having trouble meeting agreed-upon deadlines, and my friend had discovered that the consultant had taken on another project with someone affiliated with his business. The new client was not a competitor, but my friend believed that the time the consultant spent on this new project was causing him to miss his deadlines on my friend's project. He wanted to know if he would be on solid ground in questioning the consultant's ethics.
The consultant clearly was late in delivering what he had promised, but -- beyond his not keeping the promise implicit in every agreed-upon schedule -- I didn't see any ethical breach. There were no restrictions on the consultant taking other jobs.
My friend didn't have an ethical problem on his hands, in short. He had a management problem, namely, how to get the consultant to deliver on time.
But my friend was in an all-too-familiar position. Instead of addressing the challenging management issue, he felt that he would have a more powerful argument if he could attribute the consultant's behavior to some ethical breach. That sort of thinking is misleading, however, because the attempt to place the other person on the defensive elevates the problem to a moral issue and distracts attention from the real problem at hand.
The tendency to shove tough decisions onto the ethical battlefield isn't limited to the workplace, of course.
D.T., a reader from Orange County, Calif., wrote me recently with one such example. She and her boyfriend are planning to marry by the end of the summer. Each of them has children from previous marriages.
Her son is 21 years old. He works and pays for his own college and personal expenses. Her fiance's son and daughter are 13 and 9, respectively. They live with their mother in another state, and her fiance pays more than $1,000 a month in child support.
The couple has drawn up a prenuptial agreement regarding their premarital assets. They plan to commingle most of the assets they accumulate after they are married.
But they are at odds over their wills. D.T. believes that the surviving spouse should agree to divide whatever remaining assets the couple may have so that her son gets half and her fiance's children each get one-quarter.
"He feels that we should think of them as `our' children and divide assets three ways," she writes.
She is writing to me to ask what would be the most ethical thing to do here.
While D.T.'s fiance may have a good idea in thinking of all the children as simply "theirs," there's nothing unethical about either of their approaches. As long as each is honest with the other about his or her intentions, either solution would be a sound one from an ethical perspective.
What they're facing is a good, old-fashioned disagreement. The right thing to do is to take the time to talk through their differences, explore both options as well as any other alternatives, and find a decision that satisfies both of them.
The risk of seeking the ethical upper hand in resolving day-to-day issues is that it removes one of the key responsibilities that each of us bears: to learn how to deal with people who occasionally see the world differently from us.
That's a valuable lesson for anyone, particularly those who are headed into marriage.
Sunday, May 07, 2006
DID DATELINE CROSS THE LINE?
In her cover story on Sunday (http://news.bostonherald.com/localRegional/view.bg?articleid=138243&format=text), Boston Herald writer Jessica Heslam explores whether NBC's Dateline crossed the line in helping to catch online pedophiles.
In her article, Heslam quotes me as saying:
If it weren’t compelling television, “Dateline” wouldn’t run the series, said Emerson College professor Jeff Seglin, who writes the New York Times Syndicate’s column “The Right Thing.”
“ ‘Dateline has an issue of crossing the line from being a watchdog to being a participant because they’re actively involved in helping to find these people,” he said.
What do you think? Did Dateline go too far in getting involved in this effort to catch online pedophiles? You can post your comments below by clicking on COMMENTS or email them to me at rightthing@nytimes.com.
In her article, Heslam quotes me as saying:
If it weren’t compelling television, “Dateline” wouldn’t run the series, said Emerson College professor Jeff Seglin, who writes the New York Times Syndicate’s column “The Right Thing.”
“ ‘Dateline has an issue of crossing the line from being a watchdog to being a participant because they’re actively involved in helping to find these people,” he said.
What do you think? Did Dateline go too far in getting involved in this effort to catch online pedophiles? You can post your comments below by clicking on COMMENTS or email them to me at rightthing@nytimes.com.
Friday, May 05, 2006
THE LETTER OF THE UNWRITTEN LAW
In the part of Allston, Mass., where my reader M.B. lives, there are some longstanding-yet-unwritten community rules.
Rule No. 1 affects his entire neighborhood. Long-time residents mark their parking spots on the street with garbage cans, orange cones, old folding chairs, empty plastic milk crates or other objects.
The city permits residents to mark parking spaces in this manner for the first 48 hours after a snowstorm. Otherwise it's illegal -- which doesn't mean that it isn't done in M.B.'s area.
"The residents in this neighborhood do this year-round," he writes,"regardless of whether it's snowed or not."
Rule No. 2 is limited to the shared laundry facility in the apartment complex where M.B. lives. Whenever all washers or dryers are taken, those waiting for a machine place their baskets of laundry on top of the machine they're waiting for. The trouble is that often M.B. goes down to the laundry, sees a basket and then returns, 45 minutes later, to find that the cycle is finished but whoever marked the place still hasn't returned to use the machine.
"Is it ethical to cut in front of the person who hasn't started their laundry yet," M.B. asks, "since they've waited a long period of time before checking to see if a machine was available?"
Both rules are examples of social norms that have gained acceptance through the years in M.B.'s community. The challenge for new people, as they move into the neighborhood or the apartment complex, is to decide whether or not they feel bound by the same traditions.
There is no ethical obligation to observe such "rules," since you didn't agree to abide by them and doing so is not a stipulated condition of living in the area. As long as you make a point of ignoring the "rule" from the start and ignore it comprehensively -- that is, you not only park your car where other people have marked their spaces, but also don't mark a space of your own -- your behavior is ethical. Obviously, disregarding the rule only selectively, when convenient to you, is a different story.
The fact that there is no ethical obligation to obey a "rule" doesn't mean that there aren't practical reasons to do so, of course. Deciding to challenge the norms requires a willingness to accept the likely consequences of doing so to you, to your clothing or to your car. Not everybody feels strongly enough about every "rule" to take a stand on it.
M.B., for example, has defied the laundry-basket rule several times when it seemed clear to him that the owner of the place-keeping basket wasn't returning anytime soon.
"I had the laundry washed, dried and folded before the other person even came back to put their laundry in," he writes.
But he's never moved someone's parking-space marker, because the consequences are more than he wants to face.
"Since it's technically illegal, I feel that I should be able to move the garbage cans and not have to incur any sort of retaliation," he writes."The common payback is having your car scratched with a key."
The right thing, of course, would be for the city to enforce its laws banning such place markers, or for residents to discontinue the practice of illegally holding a space.
Short of these things occurring, however, M.B. and others residents are in a gray area where ethics and practicality collide, forcing them to decide whether they think that challenging the norm will have enough of along-term positive outcome to make it worth accepting the likely short-term negative consequences.
Rule No. 1 affects his entire neighborhood. Long-time residents mark their parking spots on the street with garbage cans, orange cones, old folding chairs, empty plastic milk crates or other objects.
The city permits residents to mark parking spaces in this manner for the first 48 hours after a snowstorm. Otherwise it's illegal -- which doesn't mean that it isn't done in M.B.'s area.
"The residents in this neighborhood do this year-round," he writes,"regardless of whether it's snowed or not."
Rule No. 2 is limited to the shared laundry facility in the apartment complex where M.B. lives. Whenever all washers or dryers are taken, those waiting for a machine place their baskets of laundry on top of the machine they're waiting for. The trouble is that often M.B. goes down to the laundry, sees a basket and then returns, 45 minutes later, to find that the cycle is finished but whoever marked the place still hasn't returned to use the machine.
"Is it ethical to cut in front of the person who hasn't started their laundry yet," M.B. asks, "since they've waited a long period of time before checking to see if a machine was available?"
Both rules are examples of social norms that have gained acceptance through the years in M.B.'s community. The challenge for new people, as they move into the neighborhood or the apartment complex, is to decide whether or not they feel bound by the same traditions.
There is no ethical obligation to observe such "rules," since you didn't agree to abide by them and doing so is not a stipulated condition of living in the area. As long as you make a point of ignoring the "rule" from the start and ignore it comprehensively -- that is, you not only park your car where other people have marked their spaces, but also don't mark a space of your own -- your behavior is ethical. Obviously, disregarding the rule only selectively, when convenient to you, is a different story.
The fact that there is no ethical obligation to obey a "rule" doesn't mean that there aren't practical reasons to do so, of course. Deciding to challenge the norms requires a willingness to accept the likely consequences of doing so to you, to your clothing or to your car. Not everybody feels strongly enough about every "rule" to take a stand on it.
M.B., for example, has defied the laundry-basket rule several times when it seemed clear to him that the owner of the place-keeping basket wasn't returning anytime soon.
"I had the laundry washed, dried and folded before the other person even came back to put their laundry in," he writes.
But he's never moved someone's parking-space marker, because the consequences are more than he wants to face.
"Since it's technically illegal, I feel that I should be able to move the garbage cans and not have to incur any sort of retaliation," he writes."The common payback is having your car scratched with a key."
The right thing, of course, would be for the city to enforce its laws banning such place markers, or for residents to discontinue the practice of illegally holding a space.
Short of these things occurring, however, M.B. and others residents are in a gray area where ethics and practicality collide, forcing them to decide whether they think that challenging the norm will have enough of along-term positive outcome to make it worth accepting the likely short-term negative consequences.
SOUND OFF: IT TAKES A THIEF
Few readers took issue with police officers using entrapment tactics to catch lawbreakers, even if it means committing a crime in the process.
But F.Getz of Huntington Beach, Calif., thinks that it depends on the tactic used.
"I feel that police who prostitute themselves in order to entrap johns (are) morally disgusting," Getz writes, "as opposed to them posing as johns to arrest prostitutes. The former does not rid the streets of the problem, but the latter does."
Monsie Crane of Fullerton, Calif., has no problem with the practice as long as the police don't "hurt innocent citizens in their effort to catch lawbreakers."
Jennifer Jarvis of Orange, Calif., also agrees.
"They are catching the people who are breaking the law," she writes."That is their job."
Elaine Roberts of Laguna Beach, Calif., wonders who could have a problem with police going online and posing as children to catch pedophiles.
"It could be your child getting in that kind of trouble," she writes.
"Anyone who is afraid of this sort of activity," writes John Minard of Huntington Beach, Calif., "may have engaged in activities that can be trapped and they are protecting their own activities."
Check out other opinions at: http://jeffreyseglin.blogspot.com/2006/04/breaking-laws-to-catch-criminals.html or post your on by clicking on COMMENTS below.
Jeffrey L. Seglin, author of "The Right Thing: Conscience, Profit and Personal Responsibility in Today's Business" (Spiro Press, 2003), is an associate professor at Emerson College in Boston, where he teaches writing and ethics.
Do you have ethical questions that you need answered? Send them to rightthing@nytimes.com or to "The Right Thing," New York Times Syndicate, 609 Greenwich St., 6th floor, New York, N.Y. 10014-3610.
But F.Getz of Huntington Beach, Calif., thinks that it depends on the tactic used.
"I feel that police who prostitute themselves in order to entrap johns (are) morally disgusting," Getz writes, "as opposed to them posing as johns to arrest prostitutes. The former does not rid the streets of the problem, but the latter does."
Monsie Crane of Fullerton, Calif., has no problem with the practice as long as the police don't "hurt innocent citizens in their effort to catch lawbreakers."
Jennifer Jarvis of Orange, Calif., also agrees.
"They are catching the people who are breaking the law," she writes."That is their job."
Elaine Roberts of Laguna Beach, Calif., wonders who could have a problem with police going online and posing as children to catch pedophiles.
"It could be your child getting in that kind of trouble," she writes.
"Anyone who is afraid of this sort of activity," writes John Minard of Huntington Beach, Calif., "may have engaged in activities that can be trapped and they are protecting their own activities."
Check out other opinions at: http://jeffreyseglin.blogspot.com/2006/04/breaking-laws-to-catch-criminals.html or post your on by clicking on COMMENTS below.
Jeffrey L. Seglin, author of "The Right Thing: Conscience, Profit and Personal Responsibility in Today's Business" (Spiro Press, 2003), is an associate professor at Emerson College in Boston, where he teaches writing and ethics.
Do you have ethical questions that you need answered? Send them to rightthing@nytimes.com or to "The Right Thing," New York Times Syndicate, 609 Greenwich St., 6th floor, New York, N.Y. 10014-3610.
Saturday, April 29, 2006
TRUTH AND CONSEQUENCES?
In a recent episode of the television medical drama "House," the doctors are faced with a troubling decision. A patient has less than a day to live if she doesn't receive a liver transplant, and her partner has offered to donate a portion of her liver. But the patient has told the doctors that she had been planning to leave her partner because she was "tired of her."
The lead doctor warns his colleagues not to tell the donor of her partner's intentions. When one of the other doctors argues that not to disclose the information would be unethical, the lead doctor responds by saying that it's not medical information and that to disclose it might hinder their own ability to save their patient's life.
What do you think? Should the doctors tell the donor of her partner's intentions, in case it would affect her decision to make the donation? Or is it right to withhold the information, given that the patient might die if the liver is not donated?
Click on COMMENTS to post your response. Please include your name, your hometown and the name of the newspaper in which you read this column. If your newspaper doesn't carry the column, please encourage them to do so by clicking on the sales contacts information on http://jeffreyseglin.blogspot.com. Readers' comments may appear in an upcoming column.
If you have ethical question that you need answered, you can send it to rightthing@nytimes.com or to "The Right Thing," New York Times Syndicate, 609Greenwich St., 6th floor, New York, N.Y. 10014-3610.
The lead doctor warns his colleagues not to tell the donor of her partner's intentions. When one of the other doctors argues that not to disclose the information would be unethical, the lead doctor responds by saying that it's not medical information and that to disclose it might hinder their own ability to save their patient's life.
What do you think? Should the doctors tell the donor of her partner's intentions, in case it would affect her decision to make the donation? Or is it right to withhold the information, given that the patient might die if the liver is not donated?
Click on COMMENTS to post your response. Please include your name, your hometown and the name of the newspaper in which you read this column. If your newspaper doesn't carry the column, please encourage them to do so by clicking on the sales contacts information on http://jeffreyseglin.blogspot.com. Readers' comments may appear in an upcoming column.
If you have ethical question that you need answered, you can send it to rightthing@nytimes.com or to "The Right Thing," New York Times Syndicate, 609Greenwich St., 6th floor, New York, N.Y. 10014-3610.
A BANK ERROR IN YOUR FAVOR IS NO GAME
In the board game Monopoly, there's a yellow Community Chest card that reads, "Bank error in your favor, collect $200." I never think twice about pocketing the windfall -- it's another chit on my way to total board domination.
But board games are not real life, alas. What's the right thing to do when a real-world bank error results in money that isn't yours turning up in your bank account?
I'm pondering this not because I'm fresh off a late-night Monopoly marathon, but because Audrey Coming of Placentia, Calif., e-mailed me recently to report that, in balancing her checkbook a few Saturdays ago, she happened upon a real-life echo of the Community Chest free-money card.
Coming was surprised to notice that she had two outstanding debits: one for $12.19 on Nov. 30 and one for $13.39 on Feb. 16. She recognized both transactions: She had used her ATM card on those dates to make some purchases at a couple of area stores.
"When I called my bank," she writes, "a young lady told me that the electronic transfers usually go through the same day. When she looked at my record, she saw no debits showing for those two transactions."
When Coming asked what she should do, the young lady advised her to wait until June. If the charges hadn't gone through by then, she said, Coming should add those amounts back into her checkbook and forget about them.
Coming found these instructions very disturbing, she writes, perhaps because "I am 77 years old and was raised in a different time." She knows that she made the purchases, which means that the stores will be out the money if her account is not debited for the charges.
"It has happened not once but twice," she writes, "and I'm wondering how many other people it has happened to. The poor merchants will be out a lot of money in a year's time.
"Should I go back to the stores and pay them a second time, which will mean spending extra time and gas, or should I just drop the subject and do as she told me to?"
Letting the stores know that their charges were never debited would definitely be the right thing to do. Coming needn't drive to the stores to do this, though. In fact, she would be more likely to actually reach the people who handle the stores' bookkeeping by placing a couple of telephone calls than by visiting in person.
The stores' managers may decide not to put through the charges, or they may decide that Coming's honesty is worth their eating the unrecorded charges. But those are choices that should be left to the managers themselves.
If Coming does nothing, most likely her checking account will never becharged, and she will be the beneficiary of somebody else's mistake. It would be understandable if, having notified the bank, she simply rebalanced her checkbook and moved on. But her ethical resistance to the idea of not paying what she owes is a good instinct, and one worth listening to.
Meanwhile, Coming concludes, she's looking ahead: "I think from now on I will pay with a check instead of using my ATM card."
But board games are not real life, alas. What's the right thing to do when a real-world bank error results in money that isn't yours turning up in your bank account?
I'm pondering this not because I'm fresh off a late-night Monopoly marathon, but because Audrey Coming of Placentia, Calif., e-mailed me recently to report that, in balancing her checkbook a few Saturdays ago, she happened upon a real-life echo of the Community Chest free-money card.
Coming was surprised to notice that she had two outstanding debits: one for $12.19 on Nov. 30 and one for $13.39 on Feb. 16. She recognized both transactions: She had used her ATM card on those dates to make some purchases at a couple of area stores.
"When I called my bank," she writes, "a young lady told me that the electronic transfers usually go through the same day. When she looked at my record, she saw no debits showing for those two transactions."
When Coming asked what she should do, the young lady advised her to wait until June. If the charges hadn't gone through by then, she said, Coming should add those amounts back into her checkbook and forget about them.
Coming found these instructions very disturbing, she writes, perhaps because "I am 77 years old and was raised in a different time." She knows that she made the purchases, which means that the stores will be out the money if her account is not debited for the charges.
"It has happened not once but twice," she writes, "and I'm wondering how many other people it has happened to. The poor merchants will be out a lot of money in a year's time.
"Should I go back to the stores and pay them a second time, which will mean spending extra time and gas, or should I just drop the subject and do as she told me to?"
Letting the stores know that their charges were never debited would definitely be the right thing to do. Coming needn't drive to the stores to do this, though. In fact, she would be more likely to actually reach the people who handle the stores' bookkeeping by placing a couple of telephone calls than by visiting in person.
The stores' managers may decide not to put through the charges, or they may decide that Coming's honesty is worth their eating the unrecorded charges. But those are choices that should be left to the managers themselves.
If Coming does nothing, most likely her checking account will never becharged, and she will be the beneficiary of somebody else's mistake. It would be understandable if, having notified the bank, she simply rebalanced her checkbook and moved on. But her ethical resistance to the idea of not paying what she owes is a good instinct, and one worth listening to.
Meanwhile, Coming concludes, she's looking ahead: "I think from now on I will pay with a check instead of using my ATM card."
Saturday, April 22, 2006
WHEN FREE MONEY HAPPENS TO SILLY PEOPLE
One version of the American dream has it that everyone has the opportunity to work his or her way from rags to riches. But some readers who have observed friends raking in a few extra bucks by taking advantage of debatable opportunities have questioned whether, in their effort to prosper, these friends have crossed a line.
"To make a little extra money, some friends of mine bought computer parts on sale through a discount Web site and then resold them at a slight profit through eBay," writes J.M. of Malden, Mass.
Even though the original sellers didn't explicitly prohibit reselling, the practice makes J.M. "a little uneasy."
It shouldn't. J.M. may believe that somehow the original sellers are being taken advantage of by her friends who are able to eke out a few more dollars from the items, but they're not. Those original sellers got the price they were looking for. If her friends are industrious enough to find another buyer who is willing to pay a higher price, more power to them.
D.R. from Orange County, Calif., also is uneasy about a friend who told her that she has found a way to make "free money."
The friend "works over 20 credit cards at one time, transferring balances from one card to the other, and then invests the `free money' from the credit-card companies in high-yielding certificates of deposit."
If I'm understanding this correctly, what D.R.'s friend is doing is this: She gets a cash advance from a credit card, which ordinarily she would have to pay off by the end of the month or incur monthly interest. Instead, however, she uses a second credit card to pay off her first card, transferring the new balance to that second card. A month later she uses a third card to pay off the second card's balance, and so on and so forth.The goal is to keep the balance owed moving so fast that it never sits on one card long enough for her to have to pay interest on it.
Meanwhile she takes the actual cash and invests it in a high-yielding certificate of deposit. Ultimately she plans to cash in the CD, pay the last credit card's balance and pocket the CD's interest for herself.
It's a foolhardy investment strategy, though. When she reaches the end of her chain of credit cards, she's going to have to either pay off her balance or begin paying interest on what she owes. That interest rate maybe in the high teens, depending on which state the credit card was issued from.
But what if she can successfully put off that day for, say, three years, juggling 36 credit cards and never slipping up and incurring any interest? How much does she stand to make? A three-year high-yielding certificate ofdeposit pays only 3.6 percent interest at banks in her area. If the CD compounds interest daily and she starts with a cash advance of $1,000, all of that work, every month for three years, will yield her ... $114.
If she cashes in the CD before the three years are up, though, she'll be assessed a penalty that likely will cost her whatever interest she earned. And if she misses a single payment along the way, her costs will likely outweigh whatever little bit she might have earned. That's a great deal of risk for not much reward.
Does that make D.R.'s friend unethical? No. Using a credit card to payoff the balance on another credit card is not prohibited, and one is free to use a cash advance for any legal purpose one sees fit. This strategy is unwise, but not unethical.
The lesson: Not everything that's ethical is intelligent. In chasing your piece of the American dream, the right thing to do is not only to do what's right, but also to take every precaution to make sure that you aren't walking into a potential nightmare.
"To make a little extra money, some friends of mine bought computer parts on sale through a discount Web site and then resold them at a slight profit through eBay," writes J.M. of Malden, Mass.
Even though the original sellers didn't explicitly prohibit reselling, the practice makes J.M. "a little uneasy."
It shouldn't. J.M. may believe that somehow the original sellers are being taken advantage of by her friends who are able to eke out a few more dollars from the items, but they're not. Those original sellers got the price they were looking for. If her friends are industrious enough to find another buyer who is willing to pay a higher price, more power to them.
D.R. from Orange County, Calif., also is uneasy about a friend who told her that she has found a way to make "free money."
The friend "works over 20 credit cards at one time, transferring balances from one card to the other, and then invests the `free money' from the credit-card companies in high-yielding certificates of deposit."
If I'm understanding this correctly, what D.R.'s friend is doing is this: She gets a cash advance from a credit card, which ordinarily she would have to pay off by the end of the month or incur monthly interest. Instead, however, she uses a second credit card to pay off her first card, transferring the new balance to that second card. A month later she uses a third card to pay off the second card's balance, and so on and so forth.The goal is to keep the balance owed moving so fast that it never sits on one card long enough for her to have to pay interest on it.
Meanwhile she takes the actual cash and invests it in a high-yielding certificate of deposit. Ultimately she plans to cash in the CD, pay the last credit card's balance and pocket the CD's interest for herself.
It's a foolhardy investment strategy, though. When she reaches the end of her chain of credit cards, she's going to have to either pay off her balance or begin paying interest on what she owes. That interest rate maybe in the high teens, depending on which state the credit card was issued from.
But what if she can successfully put off that day for, say, three years, juggling 36 credit cards and never slipping up and incurring any interest? How much does she stand to make? A three-year high-yielding certificate ofdeposit pays only 3.6 percent interest at banks in her area. If the CD compounds interest daily and she starts with a cash advance of $1,000, all of that work, every month for three years, will yield her ... $114.
If she cashes in the CD before the three years are up, though, she'll be assessed a penalty that likely will cost her whatever interest she earned. And if she misses a single payment along the way, her costs will likely outweigh whatever little bit she might have earned. That's a great deal of risk for not much reward.
Does that make D.R.'s friend unethical? No. Using a credit card to payoff the balance on another credit card is not prohibited, and one is free to use a cash advance for any legal purpose one sees fit. This strategy is unwise, but not unethical.
The lesson: Not everything that's ethical is intelligent. In chasing your piece of the American dream, the right thing to do is not only to do what's right, but also to take every precaution to make sure that you aren't walking into a potential nightmare.
SOUND OFF: SOMETHING SPECIAL -- OR PRIVATE? -- IN THE AIR
Is it OK to tap into wireless connections that are not your own if they're not password-protected or otherwise secured? My readers were split. (See original Sound Off question and more responses at http://jeffreyseglin.blogspot.com/2006/03/why-oh-wireless.html.)
"If a neighbor is broadcasting a signal into your home," writes James Bone of London, Ontario, "then you have every right to tap into it."
Ed Chenal of Placentia, Calif., disagrees.
"Since the use of a wireless Internet connection has a value," he writes, "using someone's connection without permission is theft."
When Sheryl Dunfield Brown of Huntington Beach, Calif., found that her computer had picked up her neighbor's wireless connection, she didn't think twice. She asked her neighbor if she could "borrow" his signal, and he graciously agreed.
Finally Peter Caton of Rockfield, Ill., was baffled when he heard that an Illinois man was recently fined $250 for accessing an unsecure wireless network.
"If a business or residence wants to keep people out of the network," he writes, "they should either secure the network or set up some kind of warning that alerts people to the fact that their network is not open tothe public.
"If none of these steps is taken, I just cannot understand how anyone can be convicted for accessing an unsecure wireless network."
"If a neighbor is broadcasting a signal into your home," writes James Bone of London, Ontario, "then you have every right to tap into it."
Ed Chenal of Placentia, Calif., disagrees.
"Since the use of a wireless Internet connection has a value," he writes, "using someone's connection without permission is theft."
When Sheryl Dunfield Brown of Huntington Beach, Calif., found that her computer had picked up her neighbor's wireless connection, she didn't think twice. She asked her neighbor if she could "borrow" his signal, and he graciously agreed.
Finally Peter Caton of Rockfield, Ill., was baffled when he heard that an Illinois man was recently fined $250 for accessing an unsecure wireless network.
"If a business or residence wants to keep people out of the network," he writes, "they should either secure the network or set up some kind of warning that alerts people to the fact that their network is not open tothe public.
"If none of these steps is taken, I just cannot understand how anyone can be convicted for accessing an unsecure wireless network."
Saturday, April 15, 2006
SOUND OFF: PRISON CONVICTIONS
Sheriff Thomas Hodgson, who runs the Bristol County House of Corrections in Massachusetts, does not believe that prisoners awaiting trial should receive different treatment than those convicted of crimes.
"I don't make the decision why they're sent here," Hodgson told The Boston Globe. "It's not our place to say whether they're innocent or guilty."
But public defense attorney Colleen Tynan told The Globe that to suggest that pretrial detainees "have asked for the incarceration they're facing because of their pretrial detention is really to exaggerate the position these people find themselves in."
As a result, she fears, their rights may be violated.
Do you think that, because prisoners awaiting trial are presumed innocent until proven guilty, they should be treated differently from other prisoners who already have been convicted?
Post your comments below by clicking on "COMMENTS" or send them to rightthing@nytimes.com. Please include your name, your hometown and the name of the newspaper in which you read this column. Readers'comments may appear in an upcoming column.
Do you have ethical questions that you need answered? Send them to rightthing@nytimes.com or to "The Right Thing," New York Times Syndicate, 609 Greenwich St., 6th floor, New York, N.Y. 10014-3610.
"I don't make the decision why they're sent here," Hodgson told The Boston Globe. "It's not our place to say whether they're innocent or guilty."
But public defense attorney Colleen Tynan told The Globe that to suggest that pretrial detainees "have asked for the incarceration they're facing because of their pretrial detention is really to exaggerate the position these people find themselves in."
As a result, she fears, their rights may be violated.
Do you think that, because prisoners awaiting trial are presumed innocent until proven guilty, they should be treated differently from other prisoners who already have been convicted?
Post your comments below by clicking on "COMMENTS" or send them to rightthing@nytimes.com. Please include your name, your hometown and the name of the newspaper in which you read this column. Readers'comments may appear in an upcoming column.
Do you have ethical questions that you need answered? Send them to rightthing@nytimes.com or to "The Right Thing," New York Times Syndicate, 609 Greenwich St., 6th floor, New York, N.Y. 10014-3610.
LOOKING A GIFT WATCH IN THE MOUTH
Let's say that you're given a valuable gift, but you suspect that it might not have been acquired honestly. Should you think twice about keeping it, even though you really, really like the gift?
Several months ago Bonnie Drago of Windsor, Ontario, was in her church basement, helping to prepare the food and decorations for a baby shower. It was raining outside, and the service upstairs in the church's chapel had recently concluded.
A young man, soaking wet, came into the basement and asked Drago when Mass was scheduled to take place. She told him that it had already concluded, but advised him that a service was to be held an hour later at another church nearby.
She asked if he needed a ride to the other church, but he declined.
"I thought he looked a little dejected," Drago writes, "so I approached him and asked quietly if he needed some help. He said `yes."'
Drago served him some hot chicken that she had been preparing for the baby shower, and then handed him $10. The young man appeared surprised. As he turned to leave, he took a watch from his pocket -- "a very good man'swatch from an expensive jewelry store in our city," she says -- and said that he had found it. He handed it to Drago, told her to keep it and then took off out the door.
Drago has no idea who the young man was, where he came from or where he went. She wondered if the watch had been stolen, and now she wants to know if she should check this out with the store.
Her conscience is prodding her to call the store, give the owner the serial number on the back of the watch and ask if anyone has reported itmissing.
"But I really did not want to get involved," she says and, besides, "my son would really like to have it. What's the right thing to do?"
Drago's conscience serves her well. If she suspects that the watch was purchased or otherwise "acquired" from a particular jewelry store, then calling the store to see if the watch has been reported missing is a good first step.
If Drago is truly concerned that the watch may have been stolen, then the right thing for her to do would be to go to the Windsor Police Service and tell them that, though she was given the watch as a gift, she wants to make sure that it wasn't stolen.
I talked to Staff Sgt. Ed McNorton of the Windsor Police, who told me that the police can run the serial number to see if the watch has been reported stolen. If it has been, she will have to turn it over. If it hasn't, however, she will leave with the watch.
If she turned it in as a "found" object, however, it would be sold at auction, McNorton adds.
Sure, by doing the right thing, Drago runs the risk of losing the watch. But all she'll really be out is the $10 and the plate of chicken that she gave the young man. Since she expected nothing in return for her generosity, she doesn't lose anything if she doesn't get to keep the watch, and if it turns out to be free and clear, she'll have not only a swell timepiece but also a clear conscience.
Several months ago Bonnie Drago of Windsor, Ontario, was in her church basement, helping to prepare the food and decorations for a baby shower. It was raining outside, and the service upstairs in the church's chapel had recently concluded.
A young man, soaking wet, came into the basement and asked Drago when Mass was scheduled to take place. She told him that it had already concluded, but advised him that a service was to be held an hour later at another church nearby.
She asked if he needed a ride to the other church, but he declined.
"I thought he looked a little dejected," Drago writes, "so I approached him and asked quietly if he needed some help. He said `yes."'
Drago served him some hot chicken that she had been preparing for the baby shower, and then handed him $10. The young man appeared surprised. As he turned to leave, he took a watch from his pocket -- "a very good man'swatch from an expensive jewelry store in our city," she says -- and said that he had found it. He handed it to Drago, told her to keep it and then took off out the door.
Drago has no idea who the young man was, where he came from or where he went. She wondered if the watch had been stolen, and now she wants to know if she should check this out with the store.
Her conscience is prodding her to call the store, give the owner the serial number on the back of the watch and ask if anyone has reported itmissing.
"But I really did not want to get involved," she says and, besides, "my son would really like to have it. What's the right thing to do?"
Drago's conscience serves her well. If she suspects that the watch was purchased or otherwise "acquired" from a particular jewelry store, then calling the store to see if the watch has been reported missing is a good first step.
If Drago is truly concerned that the watch may have been stolen, then the right thing for her to do would be to go to the Windsor Police Service and tell them that, though she was given the watch as a gift, she wants to make sure that it wasn't stolen.
I talked to Staff Sgt. Ed McNorton of the Windsor Police, who told me that the police can run the serial number to see if the watch has been reported stolen. If it has been, she will have to turn it over. If it hasn't, however, she will leave with the watch.
If she turned it in as a "found" object, however, it would be sold at auction, McNorton adds.
Sure, by doing the right thing, Drago runs the risk of losing the watch. But all she'll really be out is the $10 and the plate of chicken that she gave the young man. Since she expected nothing in return for her generosity, she doesn't lose anything if she doesn't get to keep the watch, and if it turns out to be free and clear, she'll have not only a swell timepiece but also a clear conscience.
Thursday, April 13, 2006
NAMING JUVENILE OFFENDERS
Should juvenile offenders be named by the press after they are convicted? In a case that occurred in Charlottesville, Virginia, there is a raging debate going on. Some stations named the older (though under 18) boys convicted but not the younger ones. Some named no one.
Lisa Provence, writing in The Hook, Charlottesville's weekly paper, quotes me:
"Jeff Seglin, however, who writes an ethics column for the New York Times syndicate and teaches professional ethics at Emerson College, doesn't buy the 'public figure' debate as legitimate for outing the 15-year-old. And he questions whether anything is gained by publishing the two names, other than removing suspicion from someone else.
" 'Heinous crimes' might be a reason to publish, but this case doesn't sound like that, says Seglin. 'Why not tell the story and protect the kids and their families?'" Seglin observes.
Provence's full story with details of the case is at http://www.readthehook.com/stories/2006/04/13/newsnaming.aspx.
Lisa Provence, writing in The Hook, Charlottesville's weekly paper, quotes me:
"Jeff Seglin, however, who writes an ethics column for the New York Times syndicate and teaches professional ethics at Emerson College, doesn't buy the 'public figure' debate as legitimate for outing the 15-year-old. And he questions whether anything is gained by publishing the two names, other than removing suspicion from someone else.
" 'Heinous crimes' might be a reason to publish, but this case doesn't sound like that, says Seglin. 'Why not tell the story and protect the kids and their families?'" Seglin observes.
Provence's full story with details of the case is at http://www.readthehook.com/stories/2006/04/13/newsnaming.aspx.
Saturday, April 08, 2006
HOUSE CALLS
We all know that selling a house is tricky, but sometimes problems arise in areas which we hadn't foreseen.
C.S., a reader in Sunbury, Ohio, was trying to sell her house. She entered into a three-month contract with a real-estate broker. In exchange for paying the broker a smaller commission if her house sold, she agreed to pay advertising costs.
The three months passed, and her house didn't sell. The contract expired, and C.S. got a bill for $2,300 to cover the cost of advertising her home.
By the time the bill arrived, C.S. was busy trying to sell the house on her own, and had placed an advertisement in the local newspaper. A prospective buyer saw the ad and made an appointment to see the house.
"While I was showing the house," C.S. writes, "the woman asked if I had had the house listed with a specific real-estate company. When I said that I had, she went on to tell me how she had called them six times and left three messages, without a return call."
Given this revelation, C.S. is having second thoughts about the broker's bill.
"Do I owe the broker the full $2,300?" she asks. "Were they unethical in not responding to this person's inquiry?"
It's not unusual to be disappointed in a product or service that we've purchased, because not every venture delivers the benefits we'd hoped for. For example, an executive-search firm may not turn up any offers for you, even after you've plunked down a pretty penny. It's tempting to withhold a final payment if the results haven't been what you'd anticipated, but so long as the service was in fact rendered, it would be wrong to withhold payment, regardless of the outcome.
But C.S.'s case is not a clear-cut one. On the face of it, she agreed to pay for the advertisements, the advertisements were in fact placed and therefore she owes the money. But if she can prove that the broker did not return telephone calls from people responding to the ad she was paying for, she has a legitimate right to withhold payment. Her agreement to pay for the advertising assumed that the broker would follow up on the ads. If that job wasn't done, then she shouldn't have to pay for it.
Because C.S. suspects that the broker didn't do her job, the right thing for her to do is to contact the broker, tell her what she was told by the prospective buyer and ask to see any logs of telephone calls that were received in response to the original ad.
If the broker admits that not every call was responded to, then C.S. is entitled to at least a reduced fee for the advertising. Not responding to such inquiries would have been both unethical and unprofessional.
It might well turn out, however, that it's impossible to prove definitively whether there were calls to which the broker didn't respond. If that's the case, and if the broker can demonstrate that she did respond to other calls that came in, C.S. should honor her agreement and pay up.
If the prospect who told her about the unreturned calls ends up buying her house, of course, C.S. can bask in the knowledge that, by not returning telephone calls, her former broker lost the commission that she might have earned on the sale.
C.S., a reader in Sunbury, Ohio, was trying to sell her house. She entered into a three-month contract with a real-estate broker. In exchange for paying the broker a smaller commission if her house sold, she agreed to pay advertising costs.
The three months passed, and her house didn't sell. The contract expired, and C.S. got a bill for $2,300 to cover the cost of advertising her home.
By the time the bill arrived, C.S. was busy trying to sell the house on her own, and had placed an advertisement in the local newspaper. A prospective buyer saw the ad and made an appointment to see the house.
"While I was showing the house," C.S. writes, "the woman asked if I had had the house listed with a specific real-estate company. When I said that I had, she went on to tell me how she had called them six times and left three messages, without a return call."
Given this revelation, C.S. is having second thoughts about the broker's bill.
"Do I owe the broker the full $2,300?" she asks. "Were they unethical in not responding to this person's inquiry?"
It's not unusual to be disappointed in a product or service that we've purchased, because not every venture delivers the benefits we'd hoped for. For example, an executive-search firm may not turn up any offers for you, even after you've plunked down a pretty penny. It's tempting to withhold a final payment if the results haven't been what you'd anticipated, but so long as the service was in fact rendered, it would be wrong to withhold payment, regardless of the outcome.
But C.S.'s case is not a clear-cut one. On the face of it, she agreed to pay for the advertisements, the advertisements were in fact placed and therefore she owes the money. But if she can prove that the broker did not return telephone calls from people responding to the ad she was paying for, she has a legitimate right to withhold payment. Her agreement to pay for the advertising assumed that the broker would follow up on the ads. If that job wasn't done, then she shouldn't have to pay for it.
Because C.S. suspects that the broker didn't do her job, the right thing for her to do is to contact the broker, tell her what she was told by the prospective buyer and ask to see any logs of telephone calls that were received in response to the original ad.
If the broker admits that not every call was responded to, then C.S. is entitled to at least a reduced fee for the advertising. Not responding to such inquiries would have been both unethical and unprofessional.
It might well turn out, however, that it's impossible to prove definitively whether there were calls to which the broker didn't respond. If that's the case, and if the broker can demonstrate that she did respond to other calls that came in, C.S. should honor her agreement and pay up.
If the prospect who told her about the unreturned calls ends up buying her house, of course, C.S. can bask in the knowledge that, by not returning telephone calls, her former broker lost the commission that she might have earned on the sale.
SOUND OFF: LAWYERS WHO E-MAIL AND THE PEOPLE WHO LAUGH AT THEM
I asked readers if they thought that Dianna Abdala was wrong to turn down a law firm's job offer by e-mail, whether William Korman, the lawyer offering the job, was wrong to scold her for doing so, whether she was wrong to question his abilities as a "real lawyer," whether he was wrong to ask if this was the foot upon which she wanted to start out a professional career, whether she should have responded "bla, bla, bla" and whether he should have circulated their e-mails to his legal colleagues.
There seems to be general agreement that Abdala was, if not actually wrong from an ethical standpoint, at least ill-advised.
"Her e-mails show immaturity and a tremendous lack of judgment," writes Lisa Metzger of Orange County, Calif.
"I consider Mr. Korman's response appropriate, given the apparent inconvenience to him," writes William Severns of Cambridge, Ohio. "It was to Ms. Abdala's benefit that someone advise her early in her professional career as to appropriate behavior."
Some felt, however, that Korman also was out of line.
"I agree with William Korman that Dianna Abdala's e-mail response to a job offer was unprofessional," writes Michelle Geissbuhler of Worthington,Ohio. "However, he trumped her in immaturity by responding in kind and by circulating the resulting exchange among his peers."
"If this isn't a put-on or hoax," writes John Minton of St. Louis, "then`can't fix stupid' would seem to fit."
The e-mail exchange between Korman and Abdala can be found by http://kirixchi.livejournal.com/255295.html. To add your own comments, click on "Comments" below. Please include your name and hometown in your comment.
There seems to be general agreement that Abdala was, if not actually wrong from an ethical standpoint, at least ill-advised.
"Her e-mails show immaturity and a tremendous lack of judgment," writes Lisa Metzger of Orange County, Calif.
"I consider Mr. Korman's response appropriate, given the apparent inconvenience to him," writes William Severns of Cambridge, Ohio. "It was to Ms. Abdala's benefit that someone advise her early in her professional career as to appropriate behavior."
Some felt, however, that Korman also was out of line.
"I agree with William Korman that Dianna Abdala's e-mail response to a job offer was unprofessional," writes Michelle Geissbuhler of Worthington,Ohio. "However, he trumped her in immaturity by responding in kind and by circulating the resulting exchange among his peers."
"If this isn't a put-on or hoax," writes John Minton of St. Louis, "then`can't fix stupid' would seem to fit."
The e-mail exchange between Korman and Abdala can be found by http://kirixchi.livejournal.com/255295.html. To add your own comments, click on "Comments" below. Please include your name and hometown in your comment.
Saturday, April 01, 2006
BREAKING LAWS TO CATCH CRIMINALS
Don Hull of Costa Mesa, Calif., writes that he is "outraged when police use entrapment tactics to catch lawbreakers, primarily because, to do so, they must commit crimes themselves in the process."
Among other examples, he cites police posing as prostitutes to catch unwitting customers or as under-age kids to trap online pedophiles.
Do police officers cross an ethical line when they pose as something they're not in order to catch a criminal? How about when they break a law to catch lawbreakers?
Send your thoughts to rightthing@nytimes.com or post them here by clicking on COMMENTS below. Please include your name, your hometown and where you read this column. Readers'comments may appear in an upcoming column.
Among other examples, he cites police posing as prostitutes to catch unwitting customers or as under-age kids to trap online pedophiles.
Do police officers cross an ethical line when they pose as something they're not in order to catch a criminal? How about when they break a law to catch lawbreakers?
Send your thoughts to rightthing@nytimes.com or post them here by clicking on COMMENTS below. Please include your name, your hometown and where you read this column. Readers'comments may appear in an upcoming column.
ROBIN HOOD IN THE YARN SHOP?
I don't knit, but apparently 36 million other people do.
That's according to Alice Fixx, director of communications for the Gastonia, N.C.-based Craft Yarn Council, which tracks such things. Those 36million people account for roughly $800 million a year in yarn sales from the 3,000 independent yarn stores around the country. It's a boom industry whose growth shows no signs of abating.
One of my readers from Santa Barbara, Calif., is an avid knitter. She buys her yarn from her local craft store, and the store's policy had always been to give refunds on unused skeins of yarn. After a recent change in the store's ownership, however, she was told that yarn could no longer be returned for credit.
"I was buying more yarn," she writes, "so I quietly slipped two new skeins into the bag with the two old skeins, and paid for six instead of eight skeins."
By putting two new skeins in with the bag of yarn she had brought from home, hoping to exchange them, she effectively shoplifted those two skeins.
"This was probably illegal," she writes. "Was it also unethical?"
Again, I'm no knitter, but it doesn't take a knitter to know when someone has dropped an ethical stitch.
In slipping two skeins into her bag and walking out without paying for them, my reader was guilty of shoplifting. There's no "probably" about the legality of it. Good rule of thumb: It's illegal to steal stuff from stores.
But her question about whether it was also unethical raises an intriguing point. If she decided that the new owner's change of policy was unfair to her, since she had purchased the yarn with the understanding that it was returnable, could she justify her actions as setting right what the owner had put amiss? Could hers have been an act of civil disobedience designed to correct the imperious rules thrust upon unwitting knitters by an unexpected change of ownership?
Hardly. Such a justification would also make it OK to slip an extra book into your satchel when you're at the bookstore, since the store has raised its prices and the title you had planned to buy is now more expensive. Why not take matters into your own hands to make up the difference?
Because it's stealing. That's why not.
In the famous Heinz dilemma, posed by psychologist Lawrence Kohlberg, a husband must decide whether to break into a drugstore to steal a medicine that could save his wife, assuming that he cannot afford the exorbitant price the druggist is charging. With his wife's life at stake, the husband steals the drug.
Heinz's action can be defended on the grounds that the magnitude of saving someone's life justifies even a willingness to break the law if it's the only way to do so. There is no corollary in the knitting world, however. Knitting may be a popular hobby and its devotees may be passionate about it, but there is no moral justification for stealing yarn simply because you're unhappy with a change in the store's policies.
It was reasonable for my reader to ask the store's new owner to honor the returns policy that was in place when she bought the yarn. Once the new owner refused to stray from his new policy, however, the right thing would have been for her to pay for any yarn she took out of the store.
If she doesn't like the store's new policy, the answer is not to steal from the store. Instead she should take her business to any one of the other 2,999 independent yarn stores in the United States that has a policy more to her liking.
That's according to Alice Fixx, director of communications for the Gastonia, N.C.-based Craft Yarn Council, which tracks such things. Those 36million people account for roughly $800 million a year in yarn sales from the 3,000 independent yarn stores around the country. It's a boom industry whose growth shows no signs of abating.
One of my readers from Santa Barbara, Calif., is an avid knitter. She buys her yarn from her local craft store, and the store's policy had always been to give refunds on unused skeins of yarn. After a recent change in the store's ownership, however, she was told that yarn could no longer be returned for credit.
"I was buying more yarn," she writes, "so I quietly slipped two new skeins into the bag with the two old skeins, and paid for six instead of eight skeins."
By putting two new skeins in with the bag of yarn she had brought from home, hoping to exchange them, she effectively shoplifted those two skeins.
"This was probably illegal," she writes. "Was it also unethical?"
Again, I'm no knitter, but it doesn't take a knitter to know when someone has dropped an ethical stitch.
In slipping two skeins into her bag and walking out without paying for them, my reader was guilty of shoplifting. There's no "probably" about the legality of it. Good rule of thumb: It's illegal to steal stuff from stores.
But her question about whether it was also unethical raises an intriguing point. If she decided that the new owner's change of policy was unfair to her, since she had purchased the yarn with the understanding that it was returnable, could she justify her actions as setting right what the owner had put amiss? Could hers have been an act of civil disobedience designed to correct the imperious rules thrust upon unwitting knitters by an unexpected change of ownership?
Hardly. Such a justification would also make it OK to slip an extra book into your satchel when you're at the bookstore, since the store has raised its prices and the title you had planned to buy is now more expensive. Why not take matters into your own hands to make up the difference?
Because it's stealing. That's why not.
In the famous Heinz dilemma, posed by psychologist Lawrence Kohlberg, a husband must decide whether to break into a drugstore to steal a medicine that could save his wife, assuming that he cannot afford the exorbitant price the druggist is charging. With his wife's life at stake, the husband steals the drug.
Heinz's action can be defended on the grounds that the magnitude of saving someone's life justifies even a willingness to break the law if it's the only way to do so. There is no corollary in the knitting world, however. Knitting may be a popular hobby and its devotees may be passionate about it, but there is no moral justification for stealing yarn simply because you're unhappy with a change in the store's policies.
It was reasonable for my reader to ask the store's new owner to honor the returns policy that was in place when she bought the yarn. Once the new owner refused to stray from his new policy, however, the right thing would have been for her to pay for any yarn she took out of the store.
If she doesn't like the store's new policy, the answer is not to steal from the store. Instead she should take her business to any one of the other 2,999 independent yarn stores in the United States that has a policy more to her liking.
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