Sometimes it seems so easy
to just bend the truth. Your boss’s secretary asks your
opinion on her new outfit, which looks like it was slapped
together by a lunatic in a decided hurry to get to the
annual convention of People Without Any Taste Whatsoever. Or
your best friend’s wife asks whether you agree with their
recent financial investment strategy...to buy stock in 8
Tracks’R’US. Now in such cases, little lies may be well
justified. The damage to your friends that the truth may
cause may be much worse than the damage to your character
that such little lies may cause.
Unless your kids are
watching. Then there is collateral damage that you’d better
consider. This is really a tough one, but you had at least
better take them aside shortly afterwards and try (good
luck) to explain to them the difference between a big lie
and a “white lie.”
In general, however, when
the kids are watching (which is most of the time), honesty
is the best policy for their character and yours.
I remember a situation
many years ago when a couple of friends and I took our kids
to see a University of Wisconsin Badgers football game. At
least that was what we were planning to do. You see, this
was when the Badgers were annual losers. And consequently,
tickets were readily available. So we just planned to show
up at the gate and buy tickets on the day of the game.
Always had worked in the past.
However, this was the
first sell-out in years as the Badgers embarked on a new era
of successful football. There we were, standing at the
stadium, shut out.
We had gone to some
lengths to get there and keep the kids under control. Now
they were clustered outside the stadium, listening to the
music and the roar of the crowd from within the walls that
were refusing us entrance. We were in a bind.
My friend, who decided to
take the lead in solving this quandary, led this forlorn
little troupe up to one of the entrances and began to tell
some absurd lie to the ticket taker. Probably something
about a Martian beaming his wallet up to a spaceship. We
were told to get lost.
Undaunted he marched us to another gate, spun another lie,
and was sent packing again. And again.
That’s when I decided that
I had to stop this embarrassing and character-toxic
modeling. So I took charge, marched us up to another gate,
and said “Excuse me. I hope you can help us. We brought
these kids here from Milwaukee to see the game and didn’t
know it would be sold out. Would you let us in so we can
show them the stadium and the game and perhaps find some
empty seats to sit in?”
Truthful words can be
magic words. The gates opened and we were pleasantly
welcomed in.
As you can imagine, I
gloated over this one repeatedly. But more importantly I
used it to explain to my son that honesty is the best
policy. And this story has been revisited many times over
the years because such experiences and the lessons they
teach are the building blocks of character.
