TALES OF SELF REPORTING

This week, I was exposed to two very different tales of self-reporting.  One was ethical, right, and hurtful to the person who reported on themself.  The other was unethical, self-indulgent, and probably much more damaging to a reputation than the first.

In the first case, Hoover High School, deemed by most others in the Birmingham area as the school most likely to produce the anti-Christ (most people don't like us out here very much), were made to forfeit 17 softball games.

The reason?  Incorrect paperwork filed with the Alabama High School Athletic Association prior to the season starting.  It seems there are two girls at that school with very similar names (imagine that, in a school of 2,200).  Paperwork for the wrong girl was sent to the state, nullifying victories in all games in which the young lady with the similar name participated.

To Hoover's credit, they self-reported it (see, we aren't as evil as everyone thinks!).  It is the kind of violation that probably would never have been found.  It wasn't as if an illegal player was participating.  It was more of a technicality.

The forfeited games cost Hoover quite a bit.  They were ranked #4 in the state (gone), they were #1 in their area, which meant they would host their area tournament (gone, which includes the gate and concessions, meaning a healthy paycheck), and it cost their coach victories on his prestigious record (not as big a deal, because even though he is the second-winningest coach in national high school softball history, he shies away from that type of recognition). 

That, my friends, is called integrity.

Then there's the other case.  A case where a company charged with keeping the public informed of situations that affect them, failed miserably to do just that, all because it involved self-reporting.

I noticed in Sunday's paper, the column written by a very old and once very dear friend of mine, John Archibald, was missing.  There was a fairly innocuous line in the paper saying Mr. Archibald's column would be back on Wednesday.  I thought maybe John was taking a few well-deserved days off.

I later discovered, from some very good online bloggers, that the News had pulled the column and refused to run it.  The reason?  John was writing about the state of newspapers, and the latest reporter casualties at the Birmingham News.  The article was in no way critical of the News (I've read it, thanks to those bloggers).  It really wasn't critical of the sorry state of newspapers, either.  It simply stated facts.

John noted that, through company buyouts and attrition, more than 500 years of reporting experience has departed the Birmingham News in the past two years.  Staggering numbers, to say the least, but apparently not newsworthy, according to upper level management at the News.

They've never hesitated to report on other companies who are cutting employees.  And I would argue that none of those other organizations have as much impact on our lives as the News.  Love them or hate them, the News is still the primary source for in-depth news for the people of Birmingham.

So why pull Archibald’s column?  I called John a couple of days after the incident, when his column had not reappeared in the News on Wednesday as they said it would.  I was a bit worried about his future there.  Out of respect for John, I won’t go into the details of that conversation, but I will say that, had the News, in its desire for self-preservation, chosen to get rid of John Archibald, or had he chosen to leave because of their actions, it would’ve been as great if not greater loss than the other 500 years of experience that they’ve bought out over the past 2 years.

I think very highly of John as a reporter and as a man.  Do I always agree with him?  Of course not!  But I did learn one thing while I was reporting – you can’t please everyone with everything you write (and you can’t please some people with ANYTHING you write).  All you can do is try to be fair and even-handed, and report the facts as they have been presented to you - except when your employers pull the plug on you.

That, my friends, is called a lack of integrity.

1.21.10

CSI SMITTY – THE CASE OF THE MISSING CELL PHONE

Monday night, while I was refereeing basketball, I received a text from my wife that simply said, “Call me.” Now, for those of you who don’t know my wife, she hates talking on the phone. She would rather text for five hours than talk for five minutes. So I knew right away that something was amiss.

Between games, I called her, and she proceeded to tell me that our youngest daughter, returning from a beach trip with a friend, had left her brand new cell phone in a bathroom in Montgomery. The family she was with discovered it about halfway back to Birmingham, turned around and drove all the way back, but the phone was gone. Cynthia said Julianna was devastated, and repeated calls and texts to the phone had been fruitless. At that point, the smart thing would’ve been to just let it go (it was only a $50 cell phone), replace the phone (after disciplining Julianna, of course), and be done with it.

Checking back after the next game, I learned that Cynthia had, in fact, spoken to the person who found the phone. She claimed her name was Brittney and that she worked at the Hyundai plant just south of Montgomery. She said that she was working on Tuesday, and that if someone wanted to meet her there she would return the phone. In hindsight, Cynthia probably should have gotten an alternate number from “Brittney,” but they agreed that we would call Julianna’s number on Tuesday morning to set up a time and place to meet.

Being a natural cynic, and not nearly as trusting as my wife, when I finished refereeing that night, I decided to call Sprint to see if they could use the GPS chip in the phone to locate it and give me an address, just in case I needed it the next day. They said I would have to use the Sprint Family Locator, a $5/mo. option that would allow me to track where the phone was, as long as it was turned on. I had to go on the internet to do that, so I had to wait till I got home.

“By the way,” I asked the person at Sprint, “have there been any calls made from that phone tonight?”

“Ummm…yes, there has.” She explained that I could shut off everything on the phone, with the exception of incoming calls, so that I could still try to reach the person the next day. I was starting to think that part wouldn’t matter, because I felt that anyone who was using another person’s cell phone to make calls after she found it wouldn't be inclined to answer my calls the next day. But I was still willing to give her the benefit of the doubt.

So when I got home, I got online and both signed up for the tracking program, and looked at the numbers she was calling. Between 6 p.m. and 8:50 p.m., she had made 18 phone calls. None lasted very long, none were overseas, but 18 calls seemed like a lot for someone planning to return a phone. I printed off the list of phone numbers, thinking I might need them the next day. I ran the tracking program, and it came back with no response, meaning the phone was turned off. I was afraid retrieving the phone was done before it got started, but I was determined to do all I could. At this point, it became less about a $50 cell phone and more a matter of principle.

Tuesday morning, I checked the GPS Locater again and the phone had been turned on again, and it gave me an address. BINGO! Now I had all I needed, I felt, to get the phone back. I headed to Montgomery, not really knowing what to expect. I tried to call the phone numerous times that morning, but to no avail. I went ahead with Plan A, which was to go to Hyundai, armed with nothing but a first name, and get the HR Director to find “Brittney” and retrieve my phone. My best friend had warned me that they wouldn’t help me, but I was still stupid enough to be optimistic. He, of course, was right. They wouldn’t even let me past the front desk at Hyundai – I wasn’t even allowed to speak to the HR Director. Mental Note: Never buy a Hyundai – they were very rude!!

Anyway, I moved on to Plan B. I went to a nearby hotel to make a few phone calls. I was hoping that some of the people that the girl had called the night before would help me find her, and thus, find my daughter’s phone. Again, I was way too optimistic. I called three numbers, and no one knew anyone named “Brittney.” I used the business center in the hotel to check and see if the phone was still at the address that it showed on the tracker earlier, or maybe it was now at the Hyundai plant (I hoped). It was till located at the address that it had been at when I checked at 7 a.m., so it appeared I was heading for Plan C – heading to this person’s house to request they give me the phone back.

I punched the address into my GPS, and headed the 16 miles back to Prattville to see what this would bring. The closer I got to the address, the worse the neighborhood turned, which is what I feared. When I turned on the street, it turned out to be a housing project, and although it was a bright, beautiful day, the thought of walking up to a housing project and demanding to get my phone back wasn’t exactly the smartest thing I could do, so I moved on to Plan D (my final plan), which was to call the police to see if they could help me.

Prattville PD sent a patrol car out to where I was after I explained the situation to the dispatcher on the phone. I was gratefu, because I thought when I told them what was going on, they would tell me to take a hike. I was a little disappointed at first, when the officer driving the patrol car turned out to be a little old white woman who looked more like a grandmother than a police officer. I have to be honest – at this point, I was hoping for a big, black police officer who was willing to go in, kick the door down, retrieve the cell phone after scaring the devil out of this girl, and return it to me. But I was willing to take whatever I could get, considering I didn’t think they would be willing to work on something this small to begin with.

I explained the situation to the officer, and she said she would drive over to the house and see if she could get it. In less than 5 minutes, she returned, saying the address I gave her didn’t exist on that street. I explained that with GPS, it’s only accurate to within 50 yards, so it could be any one of the houses around there. Without an exact address, she couldn’t go door-to-door to find it, she said.

I understood, and figured we were done, but then I gave her the list of numbers I had printed off, and she called the dispatcher to cross-reference the phone numbers for a couple of names that they belonged to. She began calling, explaining the situation. Maybe it was because she opened her dialogue with “This is Officer”…, but she had better luck than I did. A mother said her daughter had received a call last night at the time the officer mentioned, and through some pretty good persuasion, convinced the girl to give up a name and address for “Brittney.”

The address was only a block or two from the address that I had from the GPS tracking, so the officer decided to go and try again. Some 15 minutes later, she came back and wasn’t happy. She was convinced that she was being lied to, and that they knew where the phone was, but without a warrant, she couldn’t do much. “One of the women kept asking me what it looked like,” she told me. “I told her I didn’t know, but she knows if they found a cell phone or not.”

“Can you check now and see where it says the phone is,” she asked.

“Yes, I can check through my phone,” I told her. I went to my car and began the search process, but as I was looking, my phone rang. It was a Montgomery number.

“Who is this?” the voice on the other end asked.

“Who are you looking for,” I asked.

“Are you the man looking for the cell phone?”

“Why, yes I am.”

“Well, we have it, and we want to bring it to you. Where are you?”

I told her, then told the officer what happened. I found out that before leaving their house, she had told them that right now, it was simply possession of lost property, which was not a crime, but if they continued to use the phone, it was possession of stolen property, and it would then become a crime. I felt certain that was what changed their mind and caused them to rethink keeping the phone.

After starting back home, I started checking out the phone, only to find that the girl had personalized it with a new background, entered her name in place of my daughter’s, and downloaded multiple ringtones (which I’m getting hit with the charges on!!!), and had taken a picture of a little black baby (I don’t know if it was hers or someone else’s, but it is still on the phone). There was never any intention by this person to return the phone to us, and I’m pretty sure she doesn’t work for Hyundai.

Needless to say, this was an adventure that I’m glad is over and I hope I never have to repeat. But if I have to, I will, because again, there was a principal involved here, and that is that you don’t take and use what doesn’t belong to you. By the end of this, it became less about getting back a $50 cell phone, and more about being sure that someone who would behave that way not be allowed to keep something that wasn’t hers.