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.
Saturday, April 08, 2006
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.
Saturday, March 25, 2006
HELP (NOT REALLY) WANTED
Even when there is a strong in-house candidate for an open position, companies often expand their searches to include outside applicants. Sometimes the decision is driven by a genuine desire to find the strongest applicant for an open position, but often it's simply a matter of company policy.
I've never been a fan of company policies that force open searches even when it's already all but decided that the position will be offered to an in-house candidate. Under those conditions the search effort is merely a matter of going through the motions. Such posturing may adhere to the letter of the policy, but it's disingenuous to go through the process when, short of the in-house candidate's head exploding during the interview process, the hiring decision is a fait accompli. It's dishonest and wastes everybody's time.
Plus, the thought of spending time on a committee that serves little purpose makes me grumpy.
A reader from the Midwest knows what I'm talking about. She recently applied for a part-time job at a church, was called in for an interview that lasted nearly two hours and was asked for four references. Ultimately the church called back to tell her that, in spite of her "excellent resume" and "glowing references," she hadn't gotten the job.
It turns out that there had been an in-house applicant for the position who got the job. The position was advertised only to see how the in-house candidate "stacked up" against someone else. My reader was told that the church was going to hire the in-house person because she already knew the people there.
"In reality my time was wasted in applying for a job that was already filled," my reader writes. "I was perturbed that they wasted my resources and the time, energy and goodwill of my references."
Now, you may be thinking that the church wasn't disingenuous at all. Even with a strong internal candidate, it might have made good business sense to see if there were anyone stronger outside the organization who could do the job. You may even be right. But my reader's resentment over how the search was handled didn't stop there.
"The kicker came when I was told that I might have had a chance had Imade arrangements to be away from the job I currently hold and spent a Sunday morning at their church," she writes.
This wasn't feasible because her current employer, another church, specifies that she can miss only two Sundays a year.
"I was floored," she writes. "Is it ethical for them to require that I ditch an important part of my responsibilities for the week as part of the interview process? For a part-time job that pays less than $15 an hour? Am I way off base in thinking that this stinks to high heaven?"
If the new church made it a part of every candidate's interview process to attend one Sunday-morning service, and if it paid the candidates for their time, then it would have been a legitimate request. Even then, however, the right thing would have been to make clear to my reader that, if she didn't attend the Sunday service, she wouldn't be considered for the job.
If, on the other hand, that Sunday-morning requirement was simply an excuse for hiring the in-house candidate the church had planned to hire all along -- well, yes, it stinks.
I've never been a fan of company policies that force open searches even when it's already all but decided that the position will be offered to an in-house candidate. Under those conditions the search effort is merely a matter of going through the motions. Such posturing may adhere to the letter of the policy, but it's disingenuous to go through the process when, short of the in-house candidate's head exploding during the interview process, the hiring decision is a fait accompli. It's dishonest and wastes everybody's time.
Plus, the thought of spending time on a committee that serves little purpose makes me grumpy.
A reader from the Midwest knows what I'm talking about. She recently applied for a part-time job at a church, was called in for an interview that lasted nearly two hours and was asked for four references. Ultimately the church called back to tell her that, in spite of her "excellent resume" and "glowing references," she hadn't gotten the job.
It turns out that there had been an in-house applicant for the position who got the job. The position was advertised only to see how the in-house candidate "stacked up" against someone else. My reader was told that the church was going to hire the in-house person because she already knew the people there.
"In reality my time was wasted in applying for a job that was already filled," my reader writes. "I was perturbed that they wasted my resources and the time, energy and goodwill of my references."
Now, you may be thinking that the church wasn't disingenuous at all. Even with a strong internal candidate, it might have made good business sense to see if there were anyone stronger outside the organization who could do the job. You may even be right. But my reader's resentment over how the search was handled didn't stop there.
"The kicker came when I was told that I might have had a chance had Imade arrangements to be away from the job I currently hold and spent a Sunday morning at their church," she writes.
This wasn't feasible because her current employer, another church, specifies that she can miss only two Sundays a year.
"I was floored," she writes. "Is it ethical for them to require that I ditch an important part of my responsibilities for the week as part of the interview process? For a part-time job that pays less than $15 an hour? Am I way off base in thinking that this stinks to high heaven?"
If the new church made it a part of every candidate's interview process to attend one Sunday-morning service, and if it paid the candidates for their time, then it would have been a legitimate request. Even then, however, the right thing would have been to make clear to my reader that, if she didn't attend the Sunday service, she wouldn't be considered for the job.
If, on the other hand, that Sunday-morning requirement was simply an excuse for hiring the in-house candidate the church had planned to hire all along -- well, yes, it stinks.
TO TELL OR NOT TO TELL?
My readers saw both sides of the question of whether or not to tell an employee seeking advice on buying a house that he's on a list of employees to be laid off, assuming that the list is confidential.
"I find it unconscionable that a manager would add to the employee's stress levels by not advising the employee to forget about the down payment," writes Darren Morby of London, Ontario.
"I would definitely tell about the upcoming secret news," opines Sula Goldenberg of Garden Grove, Calif., "and ask him to keep it confidential."
Dan Steinhaur of London, Ontario, wouldn't tell the employee directly, but would still get the message across.
"Recommend that he seriously reconsider his decision to purchase a house just now," Steinhaur suggests, "in that the company in general is facing difficulties due to external circumstances and influences."
A. Jacques of Santa Ana, Calif., goes a step further.
"If they ask if they are on the list, tell them that all of the affected employees will be notified at the same time," Jacques writes. "Layoffs are like a death sentence. Treat it with compassion."
Brent Waechter of Cypress, Calif., feels that the answer is clear.
"The answer is `NO' -- you don't tell the person about to make a down payment about the list," he writes. "My response to the employee would be,`Whatever I may know or not know is not a relevant part of your decision. Purchasing a home is a big decision and it needs to be made by you and your family, not based on whatever you think about whatever it is I might say or not say".
Post your own opinion by clicking COMMENTS below.
"I find it unconscionable that a manager would add to the employee's stress levels by not advising the employee to forget about the down payment," writes Darren Morby of London, Ontario.
"I would definitely tell about the upcoming secret news," opines Sula Goldenberg of Garden Grove, Calif., "and ask him to keep it confidential."
Dan Steinhaur of London, Ontario, wouldn't tell the employee directly, but would still get the message across.
"Recommend that he seriously reconsider his decision to purchase a house just now," Steinhaur suggests, "in that the company in general is facing difficulties due to external circumstances and influences."
A. Jacques of Santa Ana, Calif., goes a step further.
"If they ask if they are on the list, tell them that all of the affected employees will be notified at the same time," Jacques writes. "Layoffs are like a death sentence. Treat it with compassion."
Brent Waechter of Cypress, Calif., feels that the answer is clear.
"The answer is `NO' -- you don't tell the person about to make a down payment about the list," he writes. "My response to the employee would be,`Whatever I may know or not know is not a relevant part of your decision. Purchasing a home is a big decision and it needs to be made by you and your family, not based on whatever you think about whatever it is I might say or not say".
Post your own opinion by clicking COMMENTS below.
Saturday, March 18, 2006
WHY OH WIRELESS?
A few weeks ago I wrote about readers who had tapped into wireless Internet connections that were not their own -- perhaps belonging to a neighbor or to an institution that didn't block out nonmembers.
I received a huge response from readers, and the column was the launching pad for discussions on many blogs -- including my own -- about the rights and wrongs of such tapping-in. My take was that it was the responsibility of wireless-connection owners to set up a secure connection if they didn't want others to tap in.
The response was so great and varied that I've decided to put the question directly to all my readers: Do you believe that it is wrong to tap into someone else's wireless connection if it's not password-protected or otherwise secured? And, whether you do or not, why?
Please post your thoughts here by clicking on "COMMENTS" or e-mail them to me at rightthing@nytimes.com. Please remember to include your name and location, in the body of your response.
I received a huge response from readers, and the column was the launching pad for discussions on many blogs -- including my own -- about the rights and wrongs of such tapping-in. My take was that it was the responsibility of wireless-connection owners to set up a secure connection if they didn't want others to tap in.
The response was so great and varied that I've decided to put the question directly to all my readers: Do you believe that it is wrong to tap into someone else's wireless connection if it's not password-protected or otherwise secured? And, whether you do or not, why?
Please post your thoughts here by clicking on "COMMENTS" or e-mail them to me at rightthing@nytimes.com. Please remember to include your name and location, in the body of your response.
MOTHER'S BIG HELPERS
Cyndi Zak of Milwaukee was waiting in line at the supermarket. In front of her was a couple who appeared to be the grandparents of the little girl with them, who looked to be about 6 or 7. As the grandfather bagged items and the grandmother dealt with the cashier, the little girl stood behind her grandmother and in front of Zak's cart.
Zak noticed her carefully eyeing the candy, gum and other goods that were displayed by the checkout counter.
"She chose a lip gloss, looked back at me, then proceeded to put it in her pocket," Zak writes. "She waited a moment, took a candy bar, then some gum, and something else I couldn't distinguish."
Each time she took an item, she looked back at Zak, who was glancing at her while loading her own items onto the conveyer belt.
"Each time I gave her a stern glare and even shook my head," Zak reports, "hoping she would 'fess up and put the articles back."
She didn't.
"The store was busy, my items were being checked out and there was a line forming," writes Zak, who couldn't quickly decide how to handle the matter. "Should I quietly say something to the girl? Do I approach the adults? Do I tell the clerk or manager?"
Before she could decide what to do, the grandparents decided it for her.
"They all scurried out of the store," Zak writes. "Now it bothers me that I did nothing, as if I was an accomplice to it all."
It's a common conundrum: What should we do when we see someone else's child do something wrong? Our instinctive urge is to intervene, but we also know that we wouldn't want other people interfering in our own childrearing. Either way we feel awkward and unsure.
If I'm at a family gathering, for example, and I see the young sons of a distant relative physically attacking one another while their parents are nowhere in sight, should I break up the scuffle? Or should I conclude that it's none of my business how another person's kids behave?
For me, this isn't a tough call: I break up the fight.
Zak's case also should have been a simple call. Since the grandparents were right in front of her, she should have alerted them to their granddaughter's sticky-fingered ways.
But there's a difference between simple and easy. Most people want to do right when faced with situations such as the one in which Zak found herself, but often we get a nagging sense that others don't want us butting into their business, particularly when it comes to how they raise, control or reprimand their children.
In the case of the fighting brothers, their parents might argue that their approach is to let the brothers work out their differences by themselves. I'd counter that there's a line between working things out and physically hurting one another, but I'll concede that some people would think I was wrong.
But with the little girl with the big pockets, there's no question that her behavior was inappropriate. It was both bad and illegal, and also affected Zak personally, if only indirectly: Such pilferage drives up merchants' costs, which undoubtedly are passed on to Zak and other shoppers in the form of higher prices.
Her attempt to make meaningful eye contact with the little girl was a good first step. When it didn't work, however, the right thing would have been to tell the grandmother that the little girl had pocketed some items. It might not have been an easy thing to do, but often the simplest and best responses aren't.
Zak noticed her carefully eyeing the candy, gum and other goods that were displayed by the checkout counter.
"She chose a lip gloss, looked back at me, then proceeded to put it in her pocket," Zak writes. "She waited a moment, took a candy bar, then some gum, and something else I couldn't distinguish."
Each time she took an item, she looked back at Zak, who was glancing at her while loading her own items onto the conveyer belt.
"Each time I gave her a stern glare and even shook my head," Zak reports, "hoping she would 'fess up and put the articles back."
She didn't.
"The store was busy, my items were being checked out and there was a line forming," writes Zak, who couldn't quickly decide how to handle the matter. "Should I quietly say something to the girl? Do I approach the adults? Do I tell the clerk or manager?"
Before she could decide what to do, the grandparents decided it for her.
"They all scurried out of the store," Zak writes. "Now it bothers me that I did nothing, as if I was an accomplice to it all."
It's a common conundrum: What should we do when we see someone else's child do something wrong? Our instinctive urge is to intervene, but we also know that we wouldn't want other people interfering in our own childrearing. Either way we feel awkward and unsure.
If I'm at a family gathering, for example, and I see the young sons of a distant relative physically attacking one another while their parents are nowhere in sight, should I break up the scuffle? Or should I conclude that it's none of my business how another person's kids behave?
For me, this isn't a tough call: I break up the fight.
Zak's case also should have been a simple call. Since the grandparents were right in front of her, she should have alerted them to their granddaughter's sticky-fingered ways.
But there's a difference between simple and easy. Most people want to do right when faced with situations such as the one in which Zak found herself, but often we get a nagging sense that others don't want us butting into their business, particularly when it comes to how they raise, control or reprimand their children.
In the case of the fighting brothers, their parents might argue that their approach is to let the brothers work out their differences by themselves. I'd counter that there's a line between working things out and physically hurting one another, but I'll concede that some people would think I was wrong.
But with the little girl with the big pockets, there's no question that her behavior was inappropriate. It was both bad and illegal, and also affected Zak personally, if only indirectly: Such pilferage drives up merchants' costs, which undoubtedly are passed on to Zak and other shoppers in the form of higher prices.
Her attempt to make meaningful eye contact with the little girl was a good first step. When it didn't work, however, the right thing would have been to tell the grandmother that the little girl had pocketed some items. It might not have been an easy thing to do, but often the simplest and best responses aren't.
Saturday, March 11, 2006
A TAXING QUESTION
Last weekend I sat down to organize my tax documents. My full-time job is at Emerson College, but a handful of other organizations also pay me to speak or to write during the course of any given year. Each one that pays me more than $600 is supposed to send me a 1099 form, indicating how much they paid me during the preceding year, by Jan. 31. Most do, but some don't.
If they don't send me the form, there's a chance that they haven't reported the payment to the Internal Revenue Service and that I could get away without paying tax on that income. Even so, I still report the payment. It has never crossed my mind not to.
I made the money. I owe taxes on it.
If doing the right thing weren't enough to motivate me, would I really want to gamble that the IRS hadn't heard about the payment? Would I want to risk having agents swoop down to audit me? I loathe the two hours that it takes me to get my tax materials organized -- imagine my distress should I be, gasp, audited and then, yikes, fined.
A freelance graphic designer from Dedham, Mass., writes that she finds herself asking the same question every tax season: "Do I claim all the money I made from companies who don't supply a 1099?"
For her that's a sizable amount, totaling roughly $10,000. She always answers yes, she says, but other self-employed people tell her that they don't claim all of their earnings.
"The general consensus of people I ask is `don't,"' she writes.
She knows that the IRS offers anyone who reports a tax evader a reward of as much as 15 percent of the amount recovered, a bit less if the reported evader is already under audit. It's no urban legend -- check Section 7623 of the Internal Revenue Code.
"I'm not going to tattle on my colleagues," she hastens to add, "but it raises the ethical question of whether I should."
Unless my reader has more to go on than the braggadocio of some peers at tax time, the right thing to do is to continue to be honest about her own income and to let the other matter lie. Her colleagues' comments could be true, but then again they could be an odd form of showing off how powerfully they are "sticking it to the man" -- "the man" in this case being those IRS agents who strike fear in the hearts of many at tax time. She doesn't know, and there is no ethical merit in turning in every braggart who suggests that he or she has outwitted the law.
If the reader finds hard evidence that someone is cheating on his or her taxes, then she has every reason to turn in the cheater. Tax evasion is not only illegal but also unfair to the rest of us who pitch in our fair share year after year. It's not "tattling" to report someone who's illegally trying to get a free ride at the expense of the rest of the citizenry.
If doing the right thing is not enough, there's that reward. Sure, the IRS caps it at $10 million -- but show me a freelance graphic designer who's making that kind of money, and I'll show you someone who's up to something much shadier than simply under-reporting income.
If they don't send me the form, there's a chance that they haven't reported the payment to the Internal Revenue Service and that I could get away without paying tax on that income. Even so, I still report the payment. It has never crossed my mind not to.
I made the money. I owe taxes on it.
If doing the right thing weren't enough to motivate me, would I really want to gamble that the IRS hadn't heard about the payment? Would I want to risk having agents swoop down to audit me? I loathe the two hours that it takes me to get my tax materials organized -- imagine my distress should I be, gasp, audited and then, yikes, fined.
A freelance graphic designer from Dedham, Mass., writes that she finds herself asking the same question every tax season: "Do I claim all the money I made from companies who don't supply a 1099?"
For her that's a sizable amount, totaling roughly $10,000. She always answers yes, she says, but other self-employed people tell her that they don't claim all of their earnings.
"The general consensus of people I ask is `don't,"' she writes.
She knows that the IRS offers anyone who reports a tax evader a reward of as much as 15 percent of the amount recovered, a bit less if the reported evader is already under audit. It's no urban legend -- check Section 7623 of the Internal Revenue Code.
"I'm not going to tattle on my colleagues," she hastens to add, "but it raises the ethical question of whether I should."
Unless my reader has more to go on than the braggadocio of some peers at tax time, the right thing to do is to continue to be honest about her own income and to let the other matter lie. Her colleagues' comments could be true, but then again they could be an odd form of showing off how powerfully they are "sticking it to the man" -- "the man" in this case being those IRS agents who strike fear in the hearts of many at tax time. She doesn't know, and there is no ethical merit in turning in every braggart who suggests that he or she has outwitted the law.
If the reader finds hard evidence that someone is cheating on his or her taxes, then she has every reason to turn in the cheater. Tax evasion is not only illegal but also unfair to the rest of us who pitch in our fair share year after year. It's not "tattling" to report someone who's illegally trying to get a free ride at the expense of the rest of the citizenry.
If doing the right thing is not enough, there's that reward. Sure, the IRS caps it at $10 million -- but show me a freelance graphic designer who's making that kind of money, and I'll show you someone who's up to something much shadier than simply under-reporting income.
KISS AND TELL
When I asked readers if they thought that Jack, the surgeon played byMatthew Fox on the television series "Lost," should tell his wife that he had been kissed by the daughter of a patient, even though he had told the kisser that a relationship between them would be wrong and couldn't happen, readers of both genders replied that he should spill the beans.
"To tell his wife would build trust in their marriage," writes David Douey of Windsor, Ontario. "If not, their marriage was not up to much in the first place."
Anna Purnell of Madison, Wis., agrees.
"In the kind of relationship I think many of us seek to cultivate,"Purnell writes, "the person would and should reveal the interchange, regardless of the level of hormonal surge it induced. To speak, to share, is to demystify. To hide, to hoard, is to seek experience alone when a far more desirable alternative is to seek it together."
Cliff Tao of Orange County, Calif., sees deeper issues involved. "There is no doubt that this is a temptation of the majority of married men," he writes, "and not admitting to it is just lying."
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"To tell his wife would build trust in their marriage," writes David Douey of Windsor, Ontario. "If not, their marriage was not up to much in the first place."
Anna Purnell of Madison, Wis., agrees.
"In the kind of relationship I think many of us seek to cultivate,"Purnell writes, "the person would and should reveal the interchange, regardless of the level of hormonal surge it induced. To speak, to share, is to demystify. To hide, to hoard, is to seek experience alone when a far more desirable alternative is to seek it together."
Cliff Tao of Orange County, Calif., sees deeper issues involved. "There is no doubt that this is a temptation of the majority of married men," he writes, "and not admitting to it is just lying."
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Saturday, March 04, 2006
A LAWYERLY E-MAIL EXCHANGE
An e-mail exchange between a lawyer and a prospective hire has been circulating on the Internet. It starts off with prospect Dianna Abdala e-mailing William Korman to let him know that she is turning down a job offer because the pay offered wasn't sufficient for the lifestyle to which she was accustomed. Korman responds by e-mailing her that her not telling him this in person is immature and unprofessional.
She retorts by telling him that a "real lawyer" would have made the original offer clearer. Then he asks her if she really wants to "start pissing off" established lawyers as she starts out in her career. Her response: "bla bla bla."
Korman proceeds to circulate the e-mail exchange to a few lawyer acquaintances who share it with a few more, and so the story goes. The entire e-mail exchange can be found at http://kirixchi.livejournal.com/255295.html.
How would you parse the rights and wrongs here? Was Abdala wrong inusing e-mail to turn down the job offer? Was Korman wrong to circulate the e-mail exchange? Was either justified in his/her actions? Were both of them? Or is there enough blame to go around?
She retorts by telling him that a "real lawyer" would have made the original offer clearer. Then he asks her if she really wants to "start pissing off" established lawyers as she starts out in her career. Her response: "bla bla bla."
Korman proceeds to circulate the e-mail exchange to a few lawyer acquaintances who share it with a few more, and so the story goes. The entire e-mail exchange can be found at http://kirixchi.livejournal.com/255295.html.
How would you parse the rights and wrongs here? Was Abdala wrong inusing e-mail to turn down the job offer? Was Korman wrong to circulate the e-mail exchange? Was either justified in his/her actions? Were both of them? Or is there enough blame to go around?
OVERNIGHT SUCCESS?
Glomming on: We know it when we see it, and most of us from time to time have taken advantage of the opportunity to piggyback onto someone else's good fortune.
But are there instances when taking advantage of such an opportunity crosses the ethical line?
L.M. from Ohio has a daughter who works for a large national company. L.M. runs a small consulting practice. Both women have clients in the same distant city. L.M.'s daughter's company has negotiated a discount rate at an upscale hotel, based on the promise that it will use a minimum number of room nights each year.
Having no such buying clout, L.M. usually stays at a budget motel chain.
"My daughter has offered to make reservations for me at the upscale hotel," L.M. writes, adding that her daughter's employer knows about the offer and doesn't object, because it will help the company reach its required minimum.
"The thought of a bit of luxury is appealing," L.M. admits, "and I'd never be able to stay at the hotel otherwise."
All the same, she hears a nagging voice in the back of her head questioning whether it's appropriate to glom onto the bigger company's discount rate.
"Should I listen to it," she asks, "or just get a good night's sleep for a change?"
If you ask me -- and she did -- there's nothing wrong with getting a good night's sleep, as long as her daughter's employer and the hotel chain don't object.
It's wrong, of course, to pose as a member of an organization to which you don't belong in order to get a discount. If, for example, I were to use my ID card from Emerson College to try to pass myself off as a student to get a lower admission fee to a museum, that would cross a line.
But if I were invited to give a lecture at a conference that happened to be at a resort in, say, Maui, and if I wanted to bring along my wife so that she could take advantage of the resort's amenities, I'd be on safe ethical ground -- as long as my wife and I footed the bill for her expenses. My wife might be glomming onto my business trip, but she wouldn't be trying to pass herself off as someone she's not.
As long as L.M. is not trying to pass herself off as an employee of an organization she does not actually work for, she's on safe ground. It's also reasonable to believe that the hotel would rather have a room filled at a discount rate than have the same room sit idle, generating no income at all.
The ground gets shakier if the hotel chain insists that anyone taking advantage of the discount be an employee of L.M.'s daughter's company. If that were the case, then the right thing would be to go back to less cushy nights at the budget motel. Her bed might not be as soft, but at least she'd be able to rest with a clear conscience.
But are there instances when taking advantage of such an opportunity crosses the ethical line?
L.M. from Ohio has a daughter who works for a large national company. L.M. runs a small consulting practice. Both women have clients in the same distant city. L.M.'s daughter's company has negotiated a discount rate at an upscale hotel, based on the promise that it will use a minimum number of room nights each year.
Having no such buying clout, L.M. usually stays at a budget motel chain.
"My daughter has offered to make reservations for me at the upscale hotel," L.M. writes, adding that her daughter's employer knows about the offer and doesn't object, because it will help the company reach its required minimum.
"The thought of a bit of luxury is appealing," L.M. admits, "and I'd never be able to stay at the hotel otherwise."
All the same, she hears a nagging voice in the back of her head questioning whether it's appropriate to glom onto the bigger company's discount rate.
"Should I listen to it," she asks, "or just get a good night's sleep for a change?"
If you ask me -- and she did -- there's nothing wrong with getting a good night's sleep, as long as her daughter's employer and the hotel chain don't object.
It's wrong, of course, to pose as a member of an organization to which you don't belong in order to get a discount. If, for example, I were to use my ID card from Emerson College to try to pass myself off as a student to get a lower admission fee to a museum, that would cross a line.
But if I were invited to give a lecture at a conference that happened to be at a resort in, say, Maui, and if I wanted to bring along my wife so that she could take advantage of the resort's amenities, I'd be on safe ethical ground -- as long as my wife and I footed the bill for her expenses. My wife might be glomming onto my business trip, but she wouldn't be trying to pass herself off as someone she's not.
As long as L.M. is not trying to pass herself off as an employee of an organization she does not actually work for, she's on safe ground. It's also reasonable to believe that the hotel would rather have a room filled at a discount rate than have the same room sit idle, generating no income at all.
The ground gets shakier if the hotel chain insists that anyone taking advantage of the discount be an employee of L.M.'s daughter's company. If that were the case, then the right thing would be to go back to less cushy nights at the budget motel. Her bed might not be as soft, but at least she'd be able to rest with a clear conscience.
Sunday, February 26, 2006
SURFING ON BORROWED TIME
During the recent snowstorm that blanketed the northeastern United States, I found myself stuck at Chicago's O'Hare Airport. A fellow strandee was busily tapping into his e-mail, downloading files from the Internet and generally having a grand old time with his laptop computer. He told me that O'Hare had allowed him to pay $6.95 for the day to log onto its wireless network, allowing him to stay connected while in the airport.
Increasingly coffee shops, restaurants and other establishments are also offering wi-fi access on a pay-as-you-go basis. Some communities even have set up free wi-fi-access areas for their residents.
But what happens when, for example, you find that a neighbor has set up a wi-fi connection for her own use or a college has set up one for its students, but they've failed to secure it from other users logging in?
Recently several readers have written to ask me if it's OK for them to use an unsecured wi-fi access point to connect to the Internet if they haven't been granted formal permission to do so.
One reader in Fullerton, Calif., writes that his hometown offers free access, only asking residents to answer a few questions online and to provide their e-mail addresses. But what about other communities that don't ask for any information and "let you in without restriction?"
Another reader, from Columbus, Ohio, visited his mother recently. She had only a very slow dial-up Internet access, but the son found that one of her neighbors had a high-speed wireless connection.
"I find it quite easy to log in and gain Internet access," he writes."As I see it, I am not really stealing anything. As long as I am limiting my use to standard e-mail or Web access, I am not using enough bandwidth to degrade her own Internet activity, so no harm done, right?"
Most institutions or individuals who establish wireless Internet connections know how to set them up so that a login and password are required for access. If they decide not to do this, then the connection is open for anyone in range to use.
While I suppose that an argument could be made that you should never use what you don't pay for, I don't believe that this would apply here -- and I'm not even sure that I agree with the broad sentiment. Unless it is made clear to users tapping into wireless connections that they must agree to certain conditions before proceeding, they have not breached any ethical mandate by logging on in any way that they legally can.
The right thing would be for those who set up wireless connections and want to keep them private to take the time to do so. If you're a piggybacking user and can identify the individual to whom the connection belongs, it would be courteous but not essential to let that person know that you and presumably others are able to enjoy their wireless largesse.
But the responsibility for deciding whether others should be able to tap into a given access belongs squarely on the shoulders of whoever is setting up the original connection.
Increasingly coffee shops, restaurants and other establishments are also offering wi-fi access on a pay-as-you-go basis. Some communities even have set up free wi-fi-access areas for their residents.
But what happens when, for example, you find that a neighbor has set up a wi-fi connection for her own use or a college has set up one for its students, but they've failed to secure it from other users logging in?
Recently several readers have written to ask me if it's OK for them to use an unsecured wi-fi access point to connect to the Internet if they haven't been granted formal permission to do so.
One reader in Fullerton, Calif., writes that his hometown offers free access, only asking residents to answer a few questions online and to provide their e-mail addresses. But what about other communities that don't ask for any information and "let you in without restriction?"
Another reader, from Columbus, Ohio, visited his mother recently. She had only a very slow dial-up Internet access, but the son found that one of her neighbors had a high-speed wireless connection.
"I find it quite easy to log in and gain Internet access," he writes."As I see it, I am not really stealing anything. As long as I am limiting my use to standard e-mail or Web access, I am not using enough bandwidth to degrade her own Internet activity, so no harm done, right?"
Most institutions or individuals who establish wireless Internet connections know how to set them up so that a login and password are required for access. If they decide not to do this, then the connection is open for anyone in range to use.
While I suppose that an argument could be made that you should never use what you don't pay for, I don't believe that this would apply here -- and I'm not even sure that I agree with the broad sentiment. Unless it is made clear to users tapping into wireless connections that they must agree to certain conditions before proceeding, they have not breached any ethical mandate by logging on in any way that they legally can.
The right thing would be for those who set up wireless connections and want to keep them private to take the time to do so. If you're a piggybacking user and can identify the individual to whom the connection belongs, it would be courteous but not essential to let that person know that you and presumably others are able to enjoy their wireless largesse.
But the responsibility for deciding whether others should be able to tap into a given access belongs squarely on the shoulders of whoever is setting up the original connection.
I WANT FREE STUFF TOO
I asked readers if companies are being unfair to existing customers when they offer discounts and special deals that are limited to prospective new customers.
If they think it's unfair, I added, would it be wrong for long-term customers to cancel their service -- if they can do so without incurring penalties -- and then re-up to take advantage of offers made to newcomers?
"I understand why companies market to the new consumer," writes Carol Bobke of Mission Viejo, Calif., "but I still don't think it's fair. Why should new customers get great deals and giveaways when there is no reward for loyalty?"
Bobke also doesn't see anything wrong with an existing customer canceling a service only to sign up again to receive the perks.
"It's business," she writes.
Mark Jones of Huntington Beach, Calif., has contacted companies with which he's done business in the past to see if they'd offer him the same discounts they were offering new customers. Some readily agreed to, he writes, while others were "steadfastly against" it.
"Since it is a free economy," Jones writes, "you can guess how I exercised my freedom of choices."
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If they think it's unfair, I added, would it be wrong for long-term customers to cancel their service -- if they can do so without incurring penalties -- and then re-up to take advantage of offers made to newcomers?
"I understand why companies market to the new consumer," writes Carol Bobke of Mission Viejo, Calif., "but I still don't think it's fair. Why should new customers get great deals and giveaways when there is no reward for loyalty?"
Bobke also doesn't see anything wrong with an existing customer canceling a service only to sign up again to receive the perks.
"It's business," she writes.
Mark Jones of Huntington Beach, Calif., has contacted companies with which he's done business in the past to see if they'd offer him the same discounts they were offering new customers. Some readily agreed to, he writes, while others were "steadfastly against" it.
"Since it is a free economy," Jones writes, "you can guess how I exercised my freedom of choices."
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Monday, February 20, 2006
MAKING THE LIST
You're a manager in a company, and you're called into a meeting where you and other managers are told that layoffs will take place at the end of the month. A list is circulated with the names of employees to be laid off, including those in your department. You are all told not to inform anyone about the layoffs until two weeks later, when an announcement will be made to the entire company.
When you get back to your office, one of the employees you manage comes in and tells you that he's about to make a down payment on a house. He asks if you know of anything going on at the company that should make him reconsider. You know that his name is on the list of employees to be laid off.
Do you tell him?
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When you get back to your office, one of the employees you manage comes in and tells you that he's about to make a down payment on a house. He asks if you know of anything going on at the company that should make him reconsider. You know that his name is on the list of employees to be laid off.
Do you tell him?
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SECRET IDENTITITES
Lying about your credentials on your resume is wrong, there's little question about that. It's also not very smart.
George C. Deutsch, a 24-year-old NASA public-affairs officer, resigned in early February after Texas A&M University confirmed that he had not graduated from the university with a journalism degree, as he had claimed in his resume -- only the latest evidence of the way such fabrications can backfire. If knowing that lying is wrong weren't enough to convince people not to inflate their credentials, you'd think that the consequences of being caught would be.
But what about when an employee deflates his resume? Is there anything wrong with understating one's credentials?
Several years ago Leesa Dupree of Brea, Calif., hired a financial analyst for a position that required a great deal of repetitive work on weekly and monthly reports. It was a position for which he seemed capable and well-suited.
Shortly after he started, the analyst had an idea about a new line of business for the company. Dupree was not enthusiastic about his idea, but they agreed that he would work up a proposal on his own time and submit it to top management for consideration.
Soon the analyst started missing deadlines, however, and the quality of the reports he turned in was so poor that Dupree had to rewrite several of them. After looking at his time sheets, she realized that he was spending 25 hours a week researching the new-business proposal, which he was supposed to be doing only on his own time.
"It was about this time that I found out that my analyst held a Ph.D in economics," Dupree says. "This had been omitted from his resume because he considered it irrelevant."
When he pitched his new-business idea to top management, she reports, he got a cool reception, and thereafter his performance suffered.
"He wasn't happy," she says, "and I wasn't happy with his work."
Eventually she encouraged him to resign, which he did.
"I probably wouldn't have hired him had I known about his Ph.D," Dupree says, "at least not without some discussion of whether he would be happy with the nature of his job."
Was he justified in leaving the Ph.D off his resume?
The analyst likely guessed -- correctly, as it turns out -- that, if his resume had included his degree, he would have been pegged as overqualified for the position. But withholding that information prevented his prospective employer from accurately gauging what kind of fit he might bein the organization. It wasn't an outright lie, but he certainly wasn't as forthcoming as any employer would want a job candidate to be.
If he left that credential off his resume in hope of gaining a foothold in the company, even in a job he didn't really want, he was misleading hisemployer. Sure, advancing in a company is a good goal, but most of us accept that advancement requires excelling at the job we're hired to do.
The right thing would have been for him to include the Ph.D on his resume. If during his job interview Dupree had questioned whether the job could hold his interest, he could have made the case that it would. If he couldn't convince her, or himself, then it was likely not the right job for him.
George C. Deutsch, a 24-year-old NASA public-affairs officer, resigned in early February after Texas A&M University confirmed that he had not graduated from the university with a journalism degree, as he had claimed in his resume -- only the latest evidence of the way such fabrications can backfire. If knowing that lying is wrong weren't enough to convince people not to inflate their credentials, you'd think that the consequences of being caught would be.
But what about when an employee deflates his resume? Is there anything wrong with understating one's credentials?
Several years ago Leesa Dupree of Brea, Calif., hired a financial analyst for a position that required a great deal of repetitive work on weekly and monthly reports. It was a position for which he seemed capable and well-suited.
Shortly after he started, the analyst had an idea about a new line of business for the company. Dupree was not enthusiastic about his idea, but they agreed that he would work up a proposal on his own time and submit it to top management for consideration.
Soon the analyst started missing deadlines, however, and the quality of the reports he turned in was so poor that Dupree had to rewrite several of them. After looking at his time sheets, she realized that he was spending 25 hours a week researching the new-business proposal, which he was supposed to be doing only on his own time.
"It was about this time that I found out that my analyst held a Ph.D in economics," Dupree says. "This had been omitted from his resume because he considered it irrelevant."
When he pitched his new-business idea to top management, she reports, he got a cool reception, and thereafter his performance suffered.
"He wasn't happy," she says, "and I wasn't happy with his work."
Eventually she encouraged him to resign, which he did.
"I probably wouldn't have hired him had I known about his Ph.D," Dupree says, "at least not without some discussion of whether he would be happy with the nature of his job."
Was he justified in leaving the Ph.D off his resume?
The analyst likely guessed -- correctly, as it turns out -- that, if his resume had included his degree, he would have been pegged as overqualified for the position. But withholding that information prevented his prospective employer from accurately gauging what kind of fit he might bein the organization. It wasn't an outright lie, but he certainly wasn't as forthcoming as any employer would want a job candidate to be.
If he left that credential off his resume in hope of gaining a foothold in the company, even in a job he didn't really want, he was misleading hisemployer. Sure, advancing in a company is a good goal, but most of us accept that advancement requires excelling at the job we're hired to do.
The right thing would have been for him to include the Ph.D on his resume. If during his job interview Dupree had questioned whether the job could hold his interest, he could have made the case that it would. If he couldn't convince her, or himself, then it was likely not the right job for him.
Monday, February 13, 2006
UP IN THE AIR
A reader from Naperville, Ill., was planning a trip, with her son and husband, to visit her mother-in-law in Las Vegas. They had a "standby" buddy pass, and decided to offer it to their 22-year-old nephew.
They made sure that he understood that his flight would be on a standby basis: If he didn't get onto the flight the others were on, he could get onto the next flight that had open seats available. The nephew would stay with them at their hotel in Las Vegas, so he needed money only for gambling and personal expenses.
As anticipated, the nephew wasn't able to get a seat on the same plane to Las Vegas. He got the last seat on the next flight, however, and met his relatives at the hotel.
Things didn't go as smoothly on the trip home. Again the nephew wasn't able to get on the same flight as his relatives, but this time, when they called him after getting off the plane back home, they found that he was about to miss out on a third flight that day.
"We gave him a list of instructions and our standard `be patient and flexible,"' my reader says.
She also gave him the telephone number of her mother-in-law, who had offered to put him up overnight if necessary. The nephew didn't seem put out, and told her that he had no place that he needed to be the following day.
While they were still on their way home from the airport, however, they got an irate telephone call from their nephew's father.
"He tore into us for leaving his son behind and alone in Las Vegas," my reader says. "When we got home we bought a regular ticket for my nephew, picked him up from the airport when he arrived and dropped him off at his parents' empty house."
Others to whom they've given these standby tickets also have experienced "nightmare trips," she concedes, but she's never been chewed out this way before.
Her question: "Did we act in an unethical, immoral, misleading or just plain wrongheaded way in offering our nephew a standby buddy pass while we traveled with a reservation?"
Of course not. A gift is a gift, so long as any drawbacks involved are made clear, and my reader obviously laid out the risks to the nephew well in advance. When all is said and done, the nephew got a free trip to Las Vegas and, whether or not his father feels otherwise, he's got nothing to complain about.
His father's reaction was out of line. Any good father is going to be worried about his son, regardless of age, but a 22-year-old is no child. He's entitled to make decisions for himself, including accepting a free plane ticket with the understanding that doing so might involve considerable inconvenience.
The father can question his son's judgment in accepting the offer, but he's got no right to chastise the person who gave his son the gift, simply because his son's standby didn't go smoothly. That risk is intrinsic in flying standby, and my reader had made clear the conditions of her travel offer, the restrictions of the ticket and the risks involved. That was the extent of her obligation, and even so her gift was a generous one.
When she learned how upset her nephew's father was, my reader even bought her nephew a ticket home out of her own pocket. This was above and beyond any reasonable expectation, and is further evidence of how generous a family member she is.
They made sure that he understood that his flight would be on a standby basis: If he didn't get onto the flight the others were on, he could get onto the next flight that had open seats available. The nephew would stay with them at their hotel in Las Vegas, so he needed money only for gambling and personal expenses.
As anticipated, the nephew wasn't able to get a seat on the same plane to Las Vegas. He got the last seat on the next flight, however, and met his relatives at the hotel.
Things didn't go as smoothly on the trip home. Again the nephew wasn't able to get on the same flight as his relatives, but this time, when they called him after getting off the plane back home, they found that he was about to miss out on a third flight that day.
"We gave him a list of instructions and our standard `be patient and flexible,"' my reader says.
She also gave him the telephone number of her mother-in-law, who had offered to put him up overnight if necessary. The nephew didn't seem put out, and told her that he had no place that he needed to be the following day.
While they were still on their way home from the airport, however, they got an irate telephone call from their nephew's father.
"He tore into us for leaving his son behind and alone in Las Vegas," my reader says. "When we got home we bought a regular ticket for my nephew, picked him up from the airport when he arrived and dropped him off at his parents' empty house."
Others to whom they've given these standby tickets also have experienced "nightmare trips," she concedes, but she's never been chewed out this way before.
Her question: "Did we act in an unethical, immoral, misleading or just plain wrongheaded way in offering our nephew a standby buddy pass while we traveled with a reservation?"
Of course not. A gift is a gift, so long as any drawbacks involved are made clear, and my reader obviously laid out the risks to the nephew well in advance. When all is said and done, the nephew got a free trip to Las Vegas and, whether or not his father feels otherwise, he's got nothing to complain about.
His father's reaction was out of line. Any good father is going to be worried about his son, regardless of age, but a 22-year-old is no child. He's entitled to make decisions for himself, including accepting a free plane ticket with the understanding that doing so might involve considerable inconvenience.
The father can question his son's judgment in accepting the offer, but he's got no right to chastise the person who gave his son the gift, simply because his son's standby didn't go smoothly. That risk is intrinsic in flying standby, and my reader had made clear the conditions of her travel offer, the restrictions of the ticket and the risks involved. That was the extent of her obligation, and even so her gift was a generous one.
When she learned how upset her nephew's father was, my reader even bought her nephew a ticket home out of her own pocket. This was above and beyond any reasonable expectation, and is further evidence of how generous a family member she is.
OPEN SEASON ON BLOGS
My readers were of one mind in concluding that anything a child posts on a public blog is fair game for teachers, parents or others to read.
"There is no expectation of privacy in a public forum," writes Alan Sechrest of Mission Viejo, Calif.
Kevin Eav of Irvine, Calif., likens blogs to the whiteboards posted on dorm-room doors. "If someone reads a blog and learns something that the blogger didn't want them to," Eav writes, "then that is the fault of the blogger."
"Of course parents and teachers should be able to read these blogs,"writes Jamie Thomas of Costa Mesa, Calif. "Maybe kids would relearn the sense of modesty that seems to be lacking from today's `Net' generation."
After hearing from students about their pages at www.myspace.com, Kelly Yarborough, a teacher from Cypress, Calif., checked out their sites...and told them about it the next day. "If they had asked me not to return," she writes, "I would have abided by their requests."
Beth Houghton of Cypress, Calif., thinks that most bloggers understand that their postings are available even to their near and dear, even if some young people think otherwise. "Only the standard-issue arrogant kid could think that he or she can make public their most intimate thoughts/urges/musings or practices to the entire world and everyone but the parents is invited to read," Houghton fumes. "What insolence!"
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"There is no expectation of privacy in a public forum," writes Alan Sechrest of Mission Viejo, Calif.
Kevin Eav of Irvine, Calif., likens blogs to the whiteboards posted on dorm-room doors. "If someone reads a blog and learns something that the blogger didn't want them to," Eav writes, "then that is the fault of the blogger."
"Of course parents and teachers should be able to read these blogs,"writes Jamie Thomas of Costa Mesa, Calif. "Maybe kids would relearn the sense of modesty that seems to be lacking from today's `Net' generation."
After hearing from students about their pages at www.myspace.com, Kelly Yarborough, a teacher from Cypress, Calif., checked out their sites...and told them about it the next day. "If they had asked me not to return," she writes, "I would have abided by their requests."
Beth Houghton of Cypress, Calif., thinks that most bloggers understand that their postings are available even to their near and dear, even if some young people think otherwise. "Only the standard-issue arrogant kid could think that he or she can make public their most intimate thoughts/urges/musings or practices to the entire world and everyone but the parents is invited to read," Houghton fumes. "What insolence!"
Post your own thoughts on the topic below by clicking on "Comments." Please include your name, hometown and state in your response or email them to me at rightthing@nytimes.com.
Sunday, February 05, 2006
A KISS IS JUST A KISS?
In a recent episode of the television series "Lost," one of the characters, a surgeon named Jack, is shown in a flashback scene. The flashback finds him in a hospital parking lot with the daughter of a patient he has operated on. The daughter moves in and plants a substantial kiss on Jack's lips. After a moment Jack pulls away, even though he appears to enjoy the kiss, and tells her that this is wrong and cannot happen.
When he gets home that evening, Jack is shown in the kitchen with his wife. Given that he rejected the attentions of his patient's daughter, should he tell his wife about her advance?
Post your thoughts below by clicking on "COMMENTS" or send them to rightthing@nytimes.com. Please include your name and hometown. Readers' comments may appear in an upcoming column.
When he gets home that evening, Jack is shown in the kitchen with his wife. Given that he rejected the attentions of his patient's daughter, should he tell his wife about her advance?
Post your thoughts below by clicking on "COMMENTS" or send them to rightthing@nytimes.com. Please include your name and hometown. Readers' comments may appear in an upcoming column.
ARE YOU WHO YOU SAY YOU ARE?
About 25 years ago I went on a double date with a stripper. The stripper wasn't my date -- she was the across-the-hall neighbor of a female friend whom I was taking to see a play called "The Shadow Box." The stripper and her date joined us.
The stripper went by the stage name of Princess Cheyenne and, at the time, was a fairly well-known personality in Boston. I occasionally would read about her in the newspaper thereafter, but sometime around the mid-1980s she seemed to disappear from the scene.
Now she is back in the news. In October The Boston Globe reported that Lucy Wightman, the former Princess Cheyenne, had been "indicted on 26 counts of felony larceny, six counts of filing false health-care claims, six counts of insurance fraud and one count of practicing psychology without a license."
Wightman allegedly had passed herself off as a licensed psychologist, when in reality she had only a master's degree in counseling psychology and had never earned a Ph.D in psychology from any accredited institution, though she had purchased a Ph.D online.
Genuine psychologists, believing Wightman to be licensed, had referred patients to her. Some parents had taken their children to her for neuropsychological evaluations that Wightman was neither trained nor licensed to administer.
The Wightman incident -- her indictment, not my double-date with her -- created quite a stir in my household. My wife, a licensed therapist who earned the same master's degree that Wightman did, wondered what responsibility lay with the professionals who had referred patients to Wightman. Weren't they obligated to make sure that she had the credentials that she said or implied that she had?
Presumably the referrers didn't knowingly recommend an unlicensed practitioner -- if they had, they too would be in a heap of trouble -- but, even if they had no legal requirement to check out Wightman's credentials, didn't they have an ethical responsibility to make sure that she was on the up and up before sending patients to her? It's a question that reaches beyond the medical arena. Do we have an obligation to make sure that people are not faking their credentials when we're involved in recommending them or hiring them to do a job? If you're leading a search for a new employee, for example, and if no one else has verified the information on a promising candidate's resume, should you place a few calls to former employers or educators to confirm the information?
I would argue that, because of your responsibility to the company and to other employees, you should make those calls. It's not that I'm cynical and believe that most people provide false information, it's simply that checking out a candidate as thoroughly as possible should be a routine part of screening him or her for a job. If you're accepting anything he or she says at face value, you're failing to fulfill the basic idea of a screening.
In the Wightman case, the right thing would have been for the referrers to make sure that she -- and any other professional they recommended -- was qualified and licensed to do the work. While it might take extra work to check someone's credentials, mental health is too critical an issue to take anybody's expertise for granted.
There are times when, regardless of our efforts to check out someone's credentials, we are going to be duped by a clever hoaxster. Nonetheless we owe it to the people who might fall prey to such posers to make every effort to make it as difficult as possible for any deception to succeed.
c.2006 The New York Times Syndicate (Distributed by The New York Times Syndicate)
The stripper went by the stage name of Princess Cheyenne and, at the time, was a fairly well-known personality in Boston. I occasionally would read about her in the newspaper thereafter, but sometime around the mid-1980s she seemed to disappear from the scene.
Now she is back in the news. In October The Boston Globe reported that Lucy Wightman, the former Princess Cheyenne, had been "indicted on 26 counts of felony larceny, six counts of filing false health-care claims, six counts of insurance fraud and one count of practicing psychology without a license."
Wightman allegedly had passed herself off as a licensed psychologist, when in reality she had only a master's degree in counseling psychology and had never earned a Ph.D in psychology from any accredited institution, though she had purchased a Ph.D online.
Genuine psychologists, believing Wightman to be licensed, had referred patients to her. Some parents had taken their children to her for neuropsychological evaluations that Wightman was neither trained nor licensed to administer.
The Wightman incident -- her indictment, not my double-date with her -- created quite a stir in my household. My wife, a licensed therapist who earned the same master's degree that Wightman did, wondered what responsibility lay with the professionals who had referred patients to Wightman. Weren't they obligated to make sure that she had the credentials that she said or implied that she had?
Presumably the referrers didn't knowingly recommend an unlicensed practitioner -- if they had, they too would be in a heap of trouble -- but, even if they had no legal requirement to check out Wightman's credentials, didn't they have an ethical responsibility to make sure that she was on the up and up before sending patients to her? It's a question that reaches beyond the medical arena. Do we have an obligation to make sure that people are not faking their credentials when we're involved in recommending them or hiring them to do a job? If you're leading a search for a new employee, for example, and if no one else has verified the information on a promising candidate's resume, should you place a few calls to former employers or educators to confirm the information?
I would argue that, because of your responsibility to the company and to other employees, you should make those calls. It's not that I'm cynical and believe that most people provide false information, it's simply that checking out a candidate as thoroughly as possible should be a routine part of screening him or her for a job. If you're accepting anything he or she says at face value, you're failing to fulfill the basic idea of a screening.
In the Wightman case, the right thing would have been for the referrers to make sure that she -- and any other professional they recommended -- was qualified and licensed to do the work. While it might take extra work to check someone's credentials, mental health is too critical an issue to take anybody's expertise for granted.
There are times when, regardless of our efforts to check out someone's credentials, we are going to be duped by a clever hoaxster. Nonetheless we owe it to the people who might fall prey to such posers to make every effort to make it as difficult as possible for any deception to succeed.
c.2006 The New York Times Syndicate (Distributed by The New York Times Syndicate)
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