Geffen, uses sprightly music on the soundtrack to accompany the tale. The message is clear: the lie that David told to get his foot in the door and the lengths to which he went to remain employed are commendable, even virtuous.
The end justifies the means, right? If David hadn’t lied on his job application, wouldn’t we have been deprived of some of the best entertainment of the past fifty years?
I don’t buy it. This is a man, after all, who concocted a clever scheme to prevent the truth from coming out and worked hard to pull off the ruse. Someone with that level of dedication would have eventually found a way to succeed in Hollywood and New York without being dishonest.
But David Geffen did lie, he did become successful, and it’s all too easy for the takeaway message to be, “I did it. So can you.” When even a staid institution like PBS valorizes behavior like David’s, such conduct becomes an example for enterprising young people to follow. David’s story is but one of many in which dishonorable behavior leads to fame and fortune. They serve as a Rorschach test for character, and savvy employers might even find a way to use them as such.
Lying to Save Money
Last year, I needed some help with a vexing computer problem, so I placed a help-wanted ad on Craigslist. I’ve generally had good experiences with the people I’ve hired this way, so I had no reason to think this time would be any different. Of the dozens of responses I got, one stood out. A fellow I’ll call Conrad wrote an impressive email overflowing with details about how he could fix the issues I faced and why he was the best candidate for the job. The letter was also unusual for being free of spelling errors and poor grammar. Here’s a guy who not only had expertise in IT — he could write well too! I wrote him back and asked what he would charge for his services.
That’s when he lost the gig. He responded, “You can pay me $45/hour by check or $35/hour in cash.” It took me a moment to see what was going on. (Call me slow on the uptake; maybe you figured it out right away.) I could leave a paper trail for the IRS by paying him one fee, or I could help Conrad avoid paying taxes on his income.
I told Conrad I wouldn’t be needing his services, and he was genuinely perplexed. “I thought I’d be doing you a favor,” he replied. But aside from the inherent dishonesty of Conrad’s proposal itself, it made me ask, if he’s willing to cheat the IRS to do a job, what other corners would he cut?
As the title of Cheri Huber’s book has it, How You Do Anything Is How You Do Everything. Conrad’s willingness to lie, even for the putative purpose of helping me, cost him the job.
Lying to Save Trouble
I had just administered an exam to a dental ethics class, and my assistant Jackie collected the blue books that the students had used to write their essays. When it came time for me to grade them, I asked Jackie where the books were. She couldn’t find them and was afraid to tell me so.
Eventually she mustered the courage to let me know that the books were nowhere to be found. She and I were scheduled to go out of town with our boss for a weekend-long workshop. “I can’t bear the thought of spending the whole weekend with you angry at me,” she confessed, “so I hope you’ll please forgive me.”
What Jackie didn’t know is that I had been in her situation several years before when I was in graduate school. Somehow I’d lost an entire class’s blue books that I’d been assigned to grade, and after trying to concoct a believable excuse as to what had happened, I figured that since I was studying for a PhD in philosophy, I should tell my adviser the truth. I was petrified that he would be angry with me and that I might lose the fellowship I’d worked so hard to get, which would mean finding another way of paying for my education.
But my professor surprised me by being compassionate. He wasn’t pleased with what had happened, but he could see that I’d made an honest, if careless, mistake, and that there was no reason to make me feel any worse than I already did.
I thought about that professor’s response when I listened to Jackie sorrowfully asking me to forgive her. “Of course I will,” I told her. I’m not sure if I told her that I’d once done the same thing she had, but I appreciated the courage that it took to tell me the truth, because I knew firsthand how difficult it was to do that.
Both Jackie and I could have lied to our supervisors. It would have been easier than telling the truth. It wasn’t pleasant to admit what had happened, but it was the honorable choice.
Evaluating Honesty
Finding Honest Job Applicants
My father once bought a life insurance policy from an agent who was a really likeable guy. Warm, friendly, and a good listener, Eric was just the kind of person you wanted on your team. His impeccable credentials, strong references, and a professional demeanor made him an understandable choice to handle such an important part of my father’s financial portfolio.
He also turned out to be a crook.
After my dad discovered that Eric had embezzled thousands of dollars, my father sued him, and I went to the trial. I’ll never forget what Eric’s own attorney said to the jury: “No one will ever trust Eric again.” When your own attorney publicly declares you to be untrustworthy, you’ve got some real integrity problems. Eric was convicted of embezzlement and sentenced to prison. After his release, he operated a limousine company and died a few years ago at the age of sixty-two.
Had you met Eric, I’ll bet you too would have believed him to be an honest person you could trust as your insurance agent. He is an excellent, if tragic, example of how difficult it is to evaluate a job candidate’s honesty.
But because honesty is an essential characteristic of the Good Ones, the following questions and sample answers may be helpful to interviewers.
Tell me about a time when you had to tell a direct report an unpleasant truth. What were the challenges and how did you get past them? What were the consequences?
Ross, a senior vice president at an international consulting firm, needed to tell Hazel, his direct report, that she wasn’t going to get the promotion she was expecting. “It was partially my fault for not having submitted the correct paperwork on time, which I didn’t know I was supposed to do,” Ross told me. “Mostly, though, it was our company’s bureaucracy that got in the way of Hazel’s promotion. Hazel would have found out on her own in six weeks, but I decided that the bad news should come from me. I didn’t want her waiting for something that wasn’t going to happen.”
He fretted for days before talking with Hazel. “I was afraid she would quit, which she would have been perfectly justified in doing. She has been with the company for seven years and has always done a good job. Well, she was very angry when I told her she wouldn’t be getting a promotion this time around. But I was glad she felt safe expressing her frustration to me, and it gave us an opportunity to have an open and honest discussion about her role at the firm.”
Ross pressed his own supervisor to get involved, and eventually Hazel got both a promotion and a raise. “Hazel told me she appreciated that I told her what was going on,” Ross explained. “She knows she can trust me to be straight with her and to fight for her, too. That may be one of the reasons she still works here.” Ross could have kept the truth to himself, but his decision to be open with Hazel illustrates the point that honest employees feel compelled to be truthful.
If a job candidate has had supervisory experience, chances are that this question will be relevant.
Tell me about a time when you could have lied to a supervisor but chose to tell the truth. What happened?
Being honest with the boss can be challenging for a good reason: Who wants to alienate the person who has a big say in whether you get a raise or a promotion — or who may ask you to leave?
But recall the story of Jackie, who lost the entire class of dental students’ blue books but told her boss (me) what she did. Jackie could have made up some excuse to explain the problem, but she chose the honorable path. I still respect her for having done