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.
Friday, May 05, 2006
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.
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."
Post your own opinin by clicking on "COMMENTS" below. Please include your name and hometown in the text of your post.
"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."
Post your own opinin by clicking on "COMMENTS" below. Please include your name and hometown in the text of your post.
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.
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