Imagine that a large organization had a problem with the theft of office supplies. Let's say the level of pen-pinching this company experiences was so dire that an extensive report on the office-supply lifting was commissioned – resulting in independent investigators declaring the thefts to be "endemic."
Suppose the report concluded that part of the problem with the paper-pilfering was that "ultimately, there is a broad perception among participants that the senior leadership of the Imaginary Corp. condones people just walking off with whatever stationery they fancy."
Understandably, this culture would make it difficult for people to report thefts of, say, the pens from their hands, or the calculators from their breast pockets. Few bystanders would have the temerity to say even, "Hey, Phil, put down that filing cabinet – it's not yours."
Word seems to have gotten about in Imaginary Corp. that should Mitch – and, to be sure, not everyone there may share his desire – choose to walk off with hundreds of dollars' worth of file folders, he's entitled to do so – kid's art supplies maybe. No one wants to pry into something personal like that.
A few of Mitch's colleagues might even wink and toss in a pack of sparkly pens when they see him push the dolly by.
The general feeling, the one the report identifies and says must be changed, is that you can no sooner deprive a man of a three-hole-punch that has caught his eye than begrudge him the air he breathes.
Suppose the report on the thefts at Imaginary Corp. is very much in the news. In fact, the problem of employees everywhere wandering off with company ink cartridges is a hot topic right now.
You can't turn on the television without hearing office-supply theft discussed and yet, when the chief executive officer of Imaginary Corp. is on the news and asked about the problem, he says, "It's because we're biologically wired in a certain way and there will be those who believe it is a reasonable thing to take all the paper out of a photo-copier, shove it down their pants and walk out."
Asked by bewildered shareholders to elaborate on his musing, the CEO adds: "Much as we would very much like to be absolutely professional in everything we do, and I think by and large we are, there will be situations and have been situations where, largely, men, will swallow literally dozens of erasers and run home as fast as they can – with scissors.
"Hold on there, Mr. CEO," some people say, "the behaviour we're discussing here isn't merely 'unprofessional.' Showing up late, forgetting your business cards, that's 'unprofessional.' What these people are doing ranges from criminal to just way creepy."
Many question whether a man who seems to believe that workers are innately compelled by primordial urges to steal staplers – and there is no other way to read the phrase "biologically wired" – is the right guy to be the CEO of a corporation that is hemorrhaging stickies and Bics.
Others may resent the CEO implying that stealing pens is an extension of their own natural love of writing in cursive.
"Lord knows I'm all about good penmanship," a man might say. "I've been dedicated to the design and execution of lettering with a broad-tip instrument since I was 15. I love doing this. I'm really good at this. You should check out my Etsy store – you will not be disappointed.
"There's nothing I love more than the feel of a good hard pen, brimming with ink, in my hand – but I sincerely don't have to remind myself every day not to steal pens, any more than I have to restrain myself from spray-painting obscenities on someone's garage.
"Separate issues. One of which is predatory, motivated by hate and a drive to intimidate, the other of which is used on wedding invitations. The art of calligraphy has nothing at all do with the theft of writing utensils, inflicting damage on innocent parties or texting pictures of anyone else's ink pot to fellow scribes."
In an ensuing apology, the CEO describes his initial remarks as an "awkward characterization," yet he's no more graceful here. Later he says his theories were "conjecture," but most people feel that, were he taking the situation and report seriously, were he sincerely grappling with how to address the issue of millions of thumbtacks seemingly walking off on their own, he wouldn't have shown up on television spitballing about the problem – all but placing the blame on the phases of the moon.
Some would say that a man at the very top of an organization implying that nature commands that his company have a white-board-marker budget equal to the gross domestic product of a small nation is clearly part of the problem.
Many would agree that, when discussing a toxic culture of breathtaking entitlement and intimidation within one's organization, using the word "desires" in relation to the act of appropriating Duo-Tangs or White-Out or whatnot, strikes a rather counterproductive, forgiving note.
Anyone, it might be said, who expresses regret about those who "press themselves" when the allegation is not that people have been slow dancing, is less suited to leadership than he is to penning slightly creepy romantic poetry.
He should be forced to find the time to start composing it immediately.
That he's from another era and his thinking's outmoded isn't a reasonable defence. Suppose this CEO were a general, like say, General Tom Lawson of the Royal Canadian Air Force, the soon-to-retire Chief of the Defence Staff – much in the news this week.
If a man in that position were to announce that the military's plan was to have the forces fix bayonets and charge at Islamic State in the hopes of seizing the enemy's banner, how long would he last?
So, now suppose the CEO is General Tom Lawson and, instead of the stealing of inanimate objects, the thoroughly documented problem at hand is that soldiers in the Canadian military, dedicated to serving their country, also have sticky fingers all over them, and worse.
Let's try to be at least as concerned as we'd be about missing paper clips.