Ethics Quiz: Mouse in the House

I have caught over 40 mice over the past three years in the humane mouse trap my late wife insisted upon. We used to carry them over to the woods near our home in the trap, and release them as I sang “Born Free.”

But today, for the first time, I woke up to find a terrified baby mouse in the trap on a day when it is freezing (and snowing) outside. I do not want to care for a pet mouse; I have enough to worry about already. I do not want to put the little thing in a position where it is doomed to freeze—the spirit of my wife will start haunting me. I do not want to let it free into the house. It won’t warm up for at least a few more days. Now what?

Your Ethics Alarms Ethics Quiz of the Day:

Is there any practical and ethical solution to this dilemma?

Cultural Literacy Note: “Drinking the Kool-Aid”

The Daily Mail headline is beyond stupid—-“People are only just realizing the dark origin of ‘drinking the Kool-Aid’ phrase”—-but sharp-eyed commenter Other Bill was quite astute to draw it to my attention (Thanks, OB) with an email this morning.

Apparently several historically and culturally illiterate whipper-snappers on social media expressed surprise at the “dark origin” of the common phrase “he (or she) drank the Kool-Aid” to describe someone who has been gulled into believing something false or dangerous. Yet this gap in the younger generations’ knowledge shouldn’t be surprising. Oh, there was a movie about the horrible incident and it is one of the best examples of the dangers of cults. But the Jonestown mass suicide of the 918 American followers of cult leader Jim Jones in Guyana occurred almost 50 years ago, in 1978. As unusual and shocking as it was, the poisoned powered drink massacre is not the kind of event likely to be covered in history courses: schools barely cover World War I. How would someone under the age of 50 come to know about the event?

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An Eternally Troubling Ethics Conundrum—at Least to Me

Adam Grant, an organizational psychologist who teaches at the Wharton School of the University of Pennsylvania, has authored a guest column for the New York Times that opens up, for the umpteenth time, an ethics topic that makes me uncomfortable. His subject is the cultural delusion shared by many in American society that rewarding effort is just as important as rewarding success, and perhaps moreso. He writes in part:

“….we’ve taken the practice of celebrating industriousness too far. We’ve gone from commending effort to treating it as an end in itself. We’ve taught a generation of kids that their worth is defined primarily by their work ethic. We’ve failed to remind them that working hard doesn’t guarantee doing a good job (let alone being a good person)…..[W]hat worries me most about valuing perseverance above all else: It can motivate people to stick with bad strategies instead of developing better ones…What counts is not sheer effort but the progress and performance that result. Motivation is only one of multiple variables in the achievement equation. Ability, opportunity and luck count, too. Yes, you can get better at anything, but you can’t be great at everything.” 

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Sunday Morning Ethics Reflections, 11/17/24: ‘Dreading  the Next Seven Weeks’ Edition, Part I, “The Horror”

I always dread the period coming up as the equivalent of whitewater rapids my metaphorical raft has floated into while I am missing a paddle. This year’s rapids promise to be especially emotionally perilous. It will be my first Thanksgiving since my wife died on Leap Year, my son has his own concerns and is unlikely to be available, and joining an “orphan’s Thanksgiving” at the home of some pitying friend is less attractive to me than spending the day alone with my dog. Even before that terrible date come two other bad ones.

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“Shrinkflation” Ethics

In my latest trip to the supermarket, I picked up a couple of products that I hadn’t bought for a couple of months, maybe four, but no more than that. I was stunned to see how much these products had shrunk in such a short period of time. The Pepperidge Fram Milano Cookies were much smaller, maybe 20%. The Leggo toaster waffles weren’t even waffle size any more.

I had already noticed how frozen pizzas had become smaller. A year ago, maybe a little more, I didn’t have a pan big enough to hold a DiGiorno pizza, which unlike some other brands that you can put right on the oven rack, requires a pan for cooking. The pizza that didn’t fit in my pan once now does with room to spare, and I’m pretty sure that the pan hasn’t grown.

I’m sure there are many other items that have experienced the same shrinkage, even as the prices for them have gone up. For the three food items above, none of the packaging says “Now, smaller and less for your money!” Oh, maybe its buried in fine print somewhere, but that’s not acceptable. I remember the TV ads that proclaimed that familiar products were better than ever; I expect the same transparency when they are worse.

Shrinkflation without transparency is unethical: false packaging, a bait and switch. I know the counter-argument: the package has serving amounts and total weight, but it doesn’t doesn’t say “Now, cookies 25% smaller!” That’s what consumers have a right to know.

Comment of the Day: “Last Election Related Post of the Day, I Promise”

From master commenter A.M. Golden, as excellent a personal account of Election Day as you are likely read, the Comment of the Day on “Last Election Related Post of the Day, I Promise”…

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Yesterday, I got up early and drove to my polling station, parked along the side of the road because I knew I wouldn’t find a space on the parking lot of the local Lions Club and got into a line that stretched to the end of said parking lot. The line began to extend onto the side of the road. It was 5:50 AM. It was a beautiful sight.

I was in the door at 6:24 AM. I had my ballot by 6:30 AM. I had filled it out by 6:35 AM. I stuck it in the scanner and got my sticker at 6:40 AM.

When I got home, I took my sticker, wrote “Garbage” on it and wore it proudly all day. I also posted on Facebook Abraham Lincoln’s famous statement from his first Inaugural Address (when the country was in far worse straits than it is now): “We are not enemies, but friends. We must not be enemies. Though passion may have strained, it must not break our bonds of affection. The mystic chords of memory will swell when again touched, as surely they will be, by the better angels of our nature.”

I kept up with the news all day long. The voting machines in Pennsylvania that didn’t work (that one of the most technologically-advanced countries in the world cannot run an election without these kinds of antics happening is absurd). The Voting Guides handed out in Rhode Island that were allegedly real ballots with the Republicans whited out. The bizarre happenings in Milwaukee where the ballots had to be recounted. The bomb threats in Georgia. Mr. Golden and our son went to vote later in the day and didn’t get stickers because they were out. In fact, the polling station ran out of ballots around 1:30 PM yesterday and had to get more.

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Honoring a Friend and Mentor By Following His Example

I haven’t had time to finish my post honoring my friend, boss, advisor and mentor Tom Donohue, the long-time president of the U.S. Chamber of Commerce whose funeral service I attended last week. I did, however, have an opportunity to follow his example today. Tom would have approved.

One of Tom’s life rules was “If you can help someone, young or old, in their career, do it.” He explained his dedication to this practice by saying, simply, “It’s the right thing to do. If you do it for others, they will do it for someone else when they are in a position to help. It makes society better. It maks life better.” And indeed, when I was in a protracted job search after leaving the Chamber, Tom made calls for me, and set up some networking meetings. (One was with Mitch McConnell’s wife, Elaine Chao, who treated me like poop on her shoe. But that’s another story…)

Today, in a busy, troubled day, I reluctantly listened to a sales pitch from a Verizon representative who knocked on my door offering special high-speed internet deals. He was a young African American man, in his twenties, and I was impressed with his poise and demeanor. I spend an hour talking with him—yes, I signed up to finally dump Comcast—and we learned a lot about each other. He told me he was starting up his own business while working for Verizon, and confessed to being a little frightened of the risk and the looming challenges of management. I shared some favorite stories about the national culture of risk taking and my own experiences with success and failure.

After our meeting I kept thinking about the kid, and for some reason Tom’s words came back to me while I was walking Spuds. Upon returning home, I called the young man; he had left his contact information. I told him that he had given me a good deal, and I wanted to offer him a deal in return: as an ethicist, I was available to him for advice and guidance at any point in his business adventures or in life. He just had to call.

He was exuberantly thankful, and I said, “Now make sure you call me before you make a mistake, if you can. But I’ll be helpful after one too. I’m serious about this.”

Who knows if he’ll really seek my advice? But at least he knows he has the resource.

And for me, it was the right thing to do.

Thanks Tom. Again.

A Day in the Life of An Ethicist…

I planned this Tuesday around the 10 am. funeral service for my boss, mentor, advisor and friend Tom Donohue, the recently deceased long-time president of the U.S. Chamber of Commerce. I even prepared something to say if there was an opportunity; I owe this man more than I can express and he was very important in my life.

The venue was St, Matthew’s, a wonderful church in downtown D.C. I moved all of my appointments and work to other days, as I expected to be a basket case after the service and reception. Got up early, which is hard because I haven’t had a good night’s sleep since Grace died, got all dressed up, shaved my head (which I hate and which takes forever) and braved the morning rush hour traffic, planning on arriving early because I always get lost, pretty much when I drive anywhere I have never been before.

I arrived about 15 minutes early, and found the place empty. As the whale thinks in “A Hitchhiker’s Guide to the Galaxy,” finding himself plummeting to earth after being suddenly transformed from his previous existence as a planet-destroying missile, “Not again!” This kind of thing—arriving at a meeting, event, appointment or social engagement and finding nobody there or that it was something completely different than I expected—has happened to me eight times this year. The score is 6 times when it was not my fault (once when the person responsible should spend eternity on her head in a lake of acid), and twice when I have no one to blame but myself. This was one of those, but it took a while to figure it out.

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Friday Open Forum, Self-Loathing Edition

I’m still trying to decide how much to beat myself up after an epic botch yesterday. I completely whiffed on one of my monthly (and sometimes bi-monthly) legal ethics Zoom seminars after I forgot to set my alarm clock. This has been an exhausting and stressful week, as if follows the long-planned memorial event for my wife, who died on Leap Year. Old friends and colleagues that I hadn’t seen for many years came from all across the country over the long weekend, and I was left gratified but emotionally and physically exhausted. Then I had to hustle to catch up with work, including preparing for a complicated new musical ethics program in the evening on the 16th. Then things went crazy: I had emergency calls from clients, a surprise house guest whom I had to drive to the train station at 5 am the next morning, and assorted other crises. Despite having my scheduled seminar at 9 am, I lay my head down at 6 am with the intention of catching a couple of hours sleep, but didn’t set the alarm. I woke up at 10.

I spent all day yesterday still exhausted and furious at myself, and woke up no better. After almost 8 months, I still haven’t adjusted to living and working alone. Grace handled my schedule, served as my back-up, kept me alert to upcoming appointments and commitments, screened my calls and emails, and generally made it possible for me to be productive and creative as I juggle disparate tasks and multi-process compulsively without not falling flat on my metaphorical face. And I’m just not good at that stuff. I’m not good at living alone. When unexpected complications merged with my not being at top form mentally, emotionally and physically, I couldn’t navigate the perfect storm and let a lot of people down. It’s over, there’s nothing more I can do about it, but I’m not accepting my own apology.

Well, enough about me: please use this opportunity to discuss important things involving ethics, leadership….you know, the usual.

Incident At Harris Teeter

I just returned from a shopping run for necessities (coffee, milk, peanut butter, dog chews, paper plates…) on a day that I have no time for it, but today is senior discount day, and ten bucks is ten bucks.

Having finished my pathetic widower’s mission, I was in the parking lot unloading my cart while thinking about other things, like how horrible the Red Sox loss was last night, the seminar materials deadline I have today, how I am still such a mess that hearing the sappy finale to “A Chorus Line” (“What I Did For Love”) in the car choked me up.

I was almost done when I noticed that a woman was patiently (and quietly) waiting for me to get my grocery cart out of the way so she could park in the space next to me. “Sorry! Sorry!” I shouted as I moved the cart. After she got out of her car, I went over to her and said, “I am so so sorry for making you wait like that! I was just zoned out and didn’t realize you were there.”

She said, “Sir, the fact that you just apologized made my day. Usually people who do something like that just ignore you; they never apologize. Of course you’re forgiven, but also thank-you, for restoring some of my faith in the human race.”

And she smiled.

Sometimes this ethics stuff pays off…

There is hope.