Daily Life

A Day in the Life of An Ethicist…

/ Jack Marshall / 12 Comments

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

/ Jack Marshall / 9 Comments

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

/ Jack Marshall / 11 Comments

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.

The Great Neighbors’ Newspaper Dilemma, or “It’s No Fun Being an Ethicist”

/ Jack Marshall / 6 Comments

Before I became obsessed with ethics, I wouldn’t have given two seconds of thought to this situation.

My wonderful next door neighbors always flee the D.C. area this time of year until Labor Day. In the past they left their home vacant with Grace and I having the responsibility of keeping a watch on the property, an eye out for packages, that sort of thing. This time, however, their recently-engaged college age granddaughter is staying in the house with her fiance.

I haven’t seen any evidence of them, however, since they moved some stuff in over the weekend. Walking Spuds by the house yesterday mid-morning, I noticed a Washington Post on the lawn. I noticed it because my neighbors always get the paper very early: I never see a Post there that late. One of my jobs in the past was to pick up the paper if they had neglected to cancel delivery, which they occasionally did.

Boy, I really miss having a real paper around, even the Washington Post, but I dropped that paper long ago because—you know—and replaced it with the Times. Then I decided paying almost a hundred bucks a month for that propaganda rag was idiotic, and went to all digital.

I was sorely temped to take the paper, but reasoned that it wasn’t my responsibility this time, and also that the paper properly belonged to their granddaughter and her beau, the house-sitters. I walked on, after Spuds had peed on their lawn.

Today I walked him by the house even later, around noon. Two papers were on the lawn. Now what? I considered taking the day-old paper home to read, since I guessed that the couple wasn’t keen on newspaper-reading or they would have picked it up the day before. I considered taking both papers, because now the papers were piling up, sending a “Rob me!” message to miscreants. But maybe the two love-birds were just sleeping in. Should I stick the papers through the mail slot? What am I, the Paper Monkey?

Reluctantly, I left the two Posts on the lawn, and now wonder what I should do if there are three there tomorrow.

When Ethics Alarms Ring Too Late…

/ Jack Marshall / 10 Comments

Ugh. On a truly awful day, waking up from a nap I couldn’t take time for but was unavoidable because I was non-functional, I suddenly realized, almost four hours too late, what was the ethical reaction to a situation I encountered earlier.

Today was another day of the sort I have had too often since Grace died: pressured from the opening gun, discovering a festering problem, being trapped in automated phone, consumer assistance, oppressive technology Hell, falling further behind on essential deadlines I cannot afford to fall behind on, and in the midst of it all, dealing with a needy dog. When I reached lunch late (after skipping breakfast), I just couldn’t bear the thought of another serving of left-overs or another tuna sandwich. I decided that I would indulge myself and splurge on an extravagance, or what counts as one in this humiliating chapter of what I laughingly call my life: I would get a “yummy”—sort of— fast food lunch. Not any place good, mind you, like Wendy’s, KFC or Grace’s favorite, Popeyes. Definitely not McDonald’s…but I could still get a few crispy tacos for under 10 bucks at Taco Bell. It was after the lunch rush, too, so even though it was a 10-15 minute drive to the place, it wouldn’t be too much wasted productive time: my “lunch hour” would take just 45 minutes, only a little but more than I typically allow myself.

I pulled into the short line at “the Bell”‘s drive-thru, got one car, then another, then another behind me, and the line just stopped. When I reached the speaker, a woman started to take my order, then said, “I’m sorry, please wait!” and disappeared for 10 minutes. Then she came back, said “I’m sorry!” again, and disappeared again. Finally I put in my order, noticing that the price for the three lousy tacos was now over ten dollars but it was impossible to back out.

It took almost 30 minutes more to get my food. Under different circumstances I would have just left, but I was starving, and I was also trapped in line; the cars behind me were honking. When I got up to the window, I was unrestrained in my annoyance, beginning, “Wait, was I mistaken? Isn’t this “fast food?” An obviously distessed woman in some kind of Islamic attire said, “I’m so sorry, I’m so sorry! I’m the only one here, and I’m serving the counter, taking the orders on the mic and handling the carry-out! I’m sorry!”

I finally got my (overpriced )lunch, resolving I would not have this “treat” again, and paid her saying, “They need to pay you more!” and pulled over to eat before the tacos got cold. By the time I returned home, my carefully planned 45 minute lunch hour had taken an hour and a half. The whole experience made me feel stupid, inefficient, and broke. I tried to do something productive, but the bed beckoned.

When I woke up, I immediately realized that I should have given that poor woman a ten buck tip. I almost drove back, but it was getting to rush hour, and the way my days have been going, she would probably have ended her shift.

Failure all around. Crap.

A Careful Conversation With An Old Friend

/ Jack Marshall / 9 Comments

I received a surprise phone call today from a freind I have not seen for many years, and not seen frequently for more than a decade since he retired with his wife to Boca Raton. There are not too many people that I’ve known in my life who are as essentially good to the bone as—well, I’ll call him “Micah.” He’s a talented artist in many mediums, intuitive, sensitive, kind and wise. We decided to meet for a beer.

We didn’t lack for things to talk about—there was my wife’s sudden death, of course, but we also know so many of the same people and have many similar interests. I don’t think in all the years we have known each other, political topics have ever come up. But we got on the topic of our kids and our friends’ kids, my son’s decision to eschew college, and from that onto the recent disaster at Harvard, as Micah mentioned in passing that my having a degree from there “didn’t hurt.” My brief but detailed exposition in response regarding Harvard’s ethics rot led to his off-hand comment, “The stuff around the war in Gaza is really upsetting.”

My old fiend was being careful: that could mean anything. He didn’t want to draw me into an expression of opinion that might lead to a rift, and in over 40 years, we’ve never had a rift of any kind. Then he said, still being careful, “I can certainly understand why Netenyahu feels he must do what he is doing.

Micah is Jewish, though that aspect of his life almost never comes up. He added, “I know a lot of innocent people are being killed.” Then he dropped a clue: “….although they might not be as innocent as people think.”

Ah! My cue! I replied immediately, “If you want your family, your children and yourself to avoid the consequences of being in a war, you shouldn’t elect terrorists to run your government. And if you want to make certain that the terrorists next door don’t kill your children, your only choice is to do whatever is necessary to get rid of them permanently.”

Micah turned to me with a look I could only describe as relief. “Thank-you,” he said.

There was only a brief coda to the exchange, after which we went back to pleasant subjects (well, other than the death of my wife). I said, “President Biden’s attempt to take both sides at once is indefensible.” Always trying to see the other person’s point of view as is his wont, Micah replied, “Unfortunately it’s an election year, and whatever position Biden takes will have negative consequences.”

I said immediately, “When that’s the case, it should be relatively easy to do the right thing.” He looked at me with relief again. “That’s how I feel about it too.”

Then we talked about theater, baseball, sealing wax, and whether pigs have wings….

[WordPress’s crack AI bot tells me to tag this “Bible study.”]

Performers Making Random People Happy: This Is a Good Thing

/ Jack Marshall / 5 Comments

“In these troubled times,” as a weenie college president would put it today, we need to acknowledge the random acts that make life a little bit brighter for people, especially those acts that might file themselves permanently in an individual’s “thrills and fond memories” collection.

In the video above, the singer/songwriter known as Jewel (her real name is Jewel Kilcher) provided one of those random acts. At 49, she’s past her pop culture stardom prime by about two decades, transitioning into the “Masked Singer” contestant and “Star-Spangled Banner” stage. But she’s sold 30 million albums, and qualifies as a major singing star, if one whose fan base now mostly qualifies as middle-aged.

Jewel was recruited by the website “Funny or Die” for a stunt reminiscent of the old “Candid Camera” show. She agreed to submit to extensive make-up and wardrobe subterfuge to disguise herself, and to visit a Karaoke bar as a mousy, reluctant recruit to go on stage and sing some of her own songs. The results can be seen in the video. First the crowd is thrilled at the spectacle of an unlikely candidate revealing herself as a genuine talent, and later, when she revealed her true identity, joyful in the realization that a celebrity singer had given them an unexpected fun experience they could tell their friends and family about.

I love this kind of thing. Back in 2013, Ethics Alarms saluted Neil Diamond for spontaneously and for no compensation leading Red Sox fans in their nightly “Sweet Caroline” serenade. I have been consistently critical of Mandy Potenkin, but he has revealed in interviews that when a child recognizes him in public as “Inigo Montoya” from “The Princess Bride,” he leans down and whispers in the kid’s ear, “My name is Inigo Montoya. You killed my father. Prepare to die.”

Celebrities can abuse their unique status in our society, or they can employ it to bring a little joy into our hum drum lives, as Lena Lamont so memorably said…

Good for Jewel.

Awkward Situation Ethics

/ Jack Marshall / 17 Comments

I am beginning to think that I have been magically trapped in a “Mr. Bean” episode.

First I drive 30 miles for an appointment with my accountant, and he forgets about it. Then I am invited to lunch at a law firm, and when I arrive, the office is deserted, with computers on and lights blazing. The next week, I do a live/Zoom seminar that is going swimmingly when the whole system breaks down, leaving me soundless and video-less.

Yesterday, a neighbor invites me to “a little neighborhood gathering” celebrating Cinco de Mayo (it’s Greek Easter among my relatives) between 1 and 3 today. There will be food, I am told. I have not been invited to any neighborhood social gathering for at least ten years, so I resolve to show up, though that’s Spuds walking time and the Red Sox are playing the Twins.

I intended to drop by just to be neighborly and appreciative around 1:30, but I get a phone call from an old friend offering condolences, and I don’t reach the neighbor’s place until 2:30. When I come in the door, I see that everyone is listening to a presentation about…solar panels. I don’t know anyone, and no one is talking except the solar panel pitch man. I see a table with food, and I’m starving, but it’s in the middle of the room with the solar panel lecture. This goes on for 15 minutes, as I stand near the door watching the pitch for something holding no interest for me. Solar panels are a Cinco de Mayo thing, I surmise. Good to know. My hostess left me shortly after letting me in the door and got involved in the solar panel-fest. Spuds was waiting for a walk, the baseball game has started, and I was hungry.

The neighbor’s young son came in the door from playing outside, and I went out of it. I walked back home.

Was that wrong?

A New Ethics Alarm Goes Off!

/ Jack Marshall / 5 Comments

I had dropped off Spuds for an emergency visit to the vet: one of his ears suddenly started swelling for no discernible reason. On the way out, I chatted with another concerned pet owner, who was sitting with her adorable aged Yorkie-Chihuahua mix (known as a “Chorkie”: that’s not her above, but it looks just like her—the dog, not the owner). We talked for quite a while, then I took my leave, after asking her dog’s name (April).

Half-way to my car in the parking lot, I started thinking, “That was rude. I talk to this nice, friendly woman for 15 minutes, ask her dog’s name, and never ask for hers or identify myself. I acted like she didn’t matter, and all I was really interested in was her dog. How dehumanizing and disrespectful.” Then I recalled all the other dog owners I know only by their dogs. (Everybody know Spuds.) One of them came by my house two days ago, knocked on the door, and gave me all the ingredients for tacos. “I know you’re having to cook for just one now after your wife’s death, and we had this left over,” she said. I had no idea who she was because she didn’t have her dog with her, a very old Sheltie named Lilly. Eventually I figured it out. (She pretty clearly doesn’t know my name either.)

Back to the vet’s…I turned around, went back into the pet hospital, and found the woman I had just left. “I came back to apologize,” I said. “I asked your dog’s name but never asked what yours was. I really did enjoy speaking with you. I’m Jack.” She smiled and said, “I’m Carla! You don’t need to apologize. That happens all the time!” “I know it does, and it shouldn’t,” I said as I left.

As I drove home, I found myself wondering if the fact that she was black helped trigger the alarm. It might have. Whatever the reason, that alarm is set now.

Comment of the Day: “Presumed Racism Raises Its Obnoxious Head at ‘Social Qs'”

/ Jack Marshall / 5 Comments

Here is another one of Extradimensional Cephalopod‘s measured, rational, provocative and useful formula pieces. There’s a lot here: Hanlon’s Razor, marital advice, the flaws of presumed racism, weenyism…all in all, a top of the line Comment of the Day.

Here it is, in response to “Presumed Racism Raises Its Obnoxious Head at ‘Social Qs”‘…

***

Alright, let’s break this down. Dealing with people acting unreasonable is what led me to learn deconstruction mindset. We can’t always take the easy way out by pretending people don’t exist. Sometimes we have to get constructive.

My values:

  1. Racists should have their views challenged. If I ran into an actual racist doing actual racist things, I’d ask incisive questions to deconstruct their whole paradigm.
  2. It’s more effective to assume a misunderstanding than malice. If it’s a misunderstanding, then it gets resolved normally with minimal fuss. If it’s malice, then the malicious people find themselves having to either spell out that they’re jerks or pretend to be incompetent, both of which have would tend to erode their arrogance. By assuming a misunderstanding we also get the opportunity to demonstrate that we are thoughtful and respectful people.
  3. I would like more people to make a habit of doing all of the above.

Others’ values:

  1. The inquirer’s wife doesn’t trust that other people might just have made mistakes instead of having ill will towards her. Perhaps due to past experiences, she has some reason to assume that they are more likely to be deliberately mistreating her.
  2. She doesn’t want to make the effort to find out for certain if her assumptions about others are correct. She apparently has a habit of avoiding interacting with people she suspects may be racist, because of the painful possibility of having to deal with an actual racist.

Framing the situation constructively:

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