Jeffrey L. Seglin's Blog, page 25

Received a stimulus check intended for a deceased relative? Return it.

When the first round of stimulus checks for $1,200 went out to people in 2020, it was estimated that 1.1 million dead people received checks. That added up to around $1.4 billion. 

John Waggoner, a senior writer for AARP, posed the question, "My Dead Relative Received a Stimulus Check? Can We Keep It?" in he wrote for the organization's website. The Internal Revenue Service may have told people receiving checks in the name of dead people to return them, but the rules were unclear.

While the stimulus checks were clearly not intended for dead people, Waggoner points out that the "Treasury and the IRS didn't use death records to stop payments to dead people because the IRS did not think they had the authority to deny payments to those who filed a 2019 tax return, according to the Government Accountability Office (GAO)." The CARES Act "required them to distribute the checks as quickly as possible."

As the rules at the time about keeping the money were being sorted out, some people were trying to decide if they should return the money if they didn't have to. Waggoner asked me what the ethical if not the legal thing to do was.

"Most if not all of those people who received a check intended for a dead relative know that it was an error," I told him. "The stimulus money was not intended to go to dead people. Ethically, the right thing would be to not cash the check."

I stand by that response. If we know we received something of value in error or that someone else received something of value and we stand to reap the benefits we should return that something.

Now, a new round of stimulus checks has gone out to eligible people. As Waggoner points out in an updated article on the topic, the Treasury and IRS corrected its original error. "The legislation that authorized the second stimulus payment to eligible recipients says that only recipients who died in 2019 or earlier must return the payments," Waggoner writes.

If a stimulus check to a dead relative is received in error, return it. Waggoner provides step-by-step instructions in about how to make such a return.

In the past, I've written about people taking food or clothing intended for those in need because there were no rules to keep them from doing so even when they clearly were not the items' intended beneficiaries. The temptation might exist to get a little something for yourself simply because you can, most of us know that there is little justification for doing so. The same goes for trying to keep stimulus checks intended for those who might have qualified for them while alive, but not so much after they've died.

The pandemic has taken a toll on most people in some form, but there are some who truly need more help than others. Yes, the federal government should have been more careful in issuing the checks. But the resources intended to support American citizens should not be wrongly kept by others simply because an error was made. 

Jeffrey L. Seglin, author of  The Simple Art of Business Etiquette: How to Rise to the Top by Playing Nice , is a senior lecturer in public policy and director of the communications program at Harvard's Kennedy School. He is also the administrator of www.jeffreyseglin.com, a blog focused on ethical issues.

Do you have ethical questions that you need to have answered? Send them to jeffreyseglin@gmail.com.  

Follow him on Twitter @jseglin. 

(c) 2021 JEFFREY L. SEGLIN. Distributed by TRIBUNE CONTENT AGENCY, LLC.

What to do with a gift containing an undesirable message

In distant years past, there always seemed to be a flurry of last-minute in-person shopping leading up to Christmas. I often found myself in downtown Boston on a cold Christmas Eve night searching for a gift from one of many department, jewelry, or independent (and often quirky) stores. 

But as online shopping became simpler, my last-minute in-person trips grew fewer. As the pandemic limited the desire to be among crowds, I found online shopping to be even more attractive within last year.

Apparently, I was not alone. Online sales during the holiday shopping period of Oct. 11 to Dec. 24 were up 49% over the previous year according to Mastercard. Overall, online sales accounted for 19.7% of all sales during that period in 2020, up from 13.4% in 2019.

Unfortunately, everything, even convenient e-commerce, has a flip-side. With the ease of online shopping came the ease of making what turned out to be ill-advised purchases on a whim, in the middle of the night, without paying particular attention to the details of what was being purchased.

"I received a beautiful yellow print scarf for Christmas in the mail from an old acquaintance," writes a reader we're calling Chris. But when Chris took a closer look, she discovered the print on the scarf was a replica of a flag used during the Revolutionary War which had more recently been used as a banner by political groups whose political views she vehemently disagreed with.

"It's beautiful," writes Chris, "but there's not a chance I'm going to wear it."

Chris doesn't believe her acquaintance is a member of any of the political groups using the flag as an emblem. She has no desire to ask her friend, "What were you thinking?" She suspects the acquaintance knew Chris wore unusual scarves, saw a print that looked unique and purchased it online since the present came directly from the online store, wrapped and with a printed note from her acquaintance.

"I don't want the scarf," Chris writes. Initially, she put it in a pile of clothing she plans to donate to a local shelter. But Chris had second thoughts.

"I don't really want to encourage anyone else to wear the scarf either," she writes. "It seems a waste just to throw it out."

"Thoughts on the right thing to do here?" she asks.

Chris has a few choices. If she doesn't want to wear the scarf, she certainly shouldn't. If she doesn't want to encourage someone else to promote something whether it's deliberately or inadvertently then she's right not to donate it. She could, however, contact the return address of the online vendor from which the package was shipped and ask if she could return it to them. Or if she wants to have one less flag she finds offensive in circulation, the right thing might be to simply take it out of public circulation by finding a use for it around the house where only she sees it. (Surely, Pinterest users have posted some ideas. Cloth-wrapped hangers?)

The right thing is not to wear the scarf if it promotes a cause she doesn't support. As for the rest of us, including Chris' acquaintance, this should be a reminder to take the time to scrutinize the gifts we buy closely even if we purchase them online. 

Jeffrey L. Seglin, author of  The Simple Art of Business Etiquette: How to Rise to the Top by Playing Nice , is a senior lecturer in public policy and director of the communications program at Harvard's Kennedy School. He is also the administrator of www.jeffreyseglin.com, a blog focused on ethical issues.

Do you have ethical questions that you need to have answered? Send them to jeffreyseglin@gmail.com.  

Follow him on Twitter @jseglin. 

(c) 2021 JEFFREY L. SEGLIN. Distributed by TRIBUNE CONTENT AGENCY, LLC.

Relieving the headache of a self-checkout gone awry

It's safe to acknowledge that many people have felt a bit distracted since this past March when the pandemic threw their routines, schedules and lives into a bit of disarray. Adjusting to working remotely, managing children's in-person and online education, timing shopping trips to avoid crowds, and generally learning to live safely while avoiding exposure to the novel coronavirus has resulted in many instances of unintended forgetfulness.

A reader we're calling Johnson wrote of one such instance of recent distraction that leaves him in a bit of an ethical quandary.

"I had to make a quick run to the store to pick up some items," he writes. "Batteries, vitamins, lightbulbs, paper towels, Band-Aids and Tylenol were all on my list."

As was his practice to avoid as much contact with others as possible Johnson took his goods to the self-checkout area to scan, bag, and pay for his items. He figured it would be a quick trip.

"After I got home and checked the receipt, I discovered I hadn't scanned the Tylenol or the scan didn't go through," he writes. "What should I do to make good on the error? Or given that it's only about four bucks, should I just forget about it?"

Deliberate self check-out theft costs retailers a bundle. An article in "The Atlantic" magazine a few years ago suggested that about $850,000 worth of items leave stores without being paid for every year. Even though he might not have intended to, Johnson's taking of the Tylenol home without paying for it adds to that loss.

"I heard about companies like Amazon doing these returnless refunds where you can get a refund for an item you don't want but you can keep the item," Johnson writes. "If big companies do that, should I worry about going back and paying for the item I inadvertently took?"

Johnson shouldn't equate what companies like Amazon might do in terms of refunds with his situation. For one thing, he's not trying to return anything. But more importantly, whether or not he pays for his item should not be up to him, but to the retailer who made it available to him.

He also shouldn't assume that because the small bottle of Tylenol only cost about four bucks that it doesn't matter as much as if he, say, inadvertently neglected to pay for a $400 flat-screen television. What matters at the end of the day is that he left the store with an item he didn't pay for.

If Johnson is embarrassed to admit his mistake to the store's manager, I suppose he could return to the store, scan in another bottle of Tylenol, pay for it, and then leave the item at the store. That, of course, is likely to affect the store's inventory, but on Johnson's end, it would definitely settle things up.

But that approach is not the best, most transparent way to resolve his issue. The real right thing is for Johnson to return to the store, let a manager know what happened, and offer to pay for the Tylenol he brought home. People make mistakes and the store manager should thank Johnson for his honesty and for making things right. Getting square with the store will likely ease any guilt Johnson may be feeling about his error. 

Jeffrey L. Seglin, author of  The Simple Art of Business Etiquette: How to Rise to the Top by Playing Nice , is a senior lecturer in public policy and director of the communications program at Harvard's Kennedy School. He is also the administrator of www.jeffreyseglin.com, a blog focused on ethical issues.

Do you have ethical questions that you need to have answered? Send them to jeffreyseglin@gmail.com.  

Follow him on Twitter @jseglin. 

(c) 2021 JEFFREY L. SEGLIN. Distributed by TRIBUNE CONTENT AGENCY, LLC.

Can I request mileage reimbursement for miles not technically traveled?

A reader from Canada we're calling "Winnie" works full-time at a company located about 40 miles from her home. Winnie also has a part-time job near her full-time place of employment for which she takes one hour of unpaid time off during lunch time to facilitate an early childhood music program. 

Both her full-time and part-time employers know about her two jobs.

The pay Winnie receives for the part-time job comes from a grant that also includes a budget for mileage reimbursement.

Winnie wants to know if it is ethical for her to ask for money from the budgeted mileage reimbursement allotment if she already has to travel to the location for her full-time job.

Winnie also wants to know if it would be ethical to consider offering the music program during a paid lunch break and still receive compensation for facilitating the class instead of taking an unpaid hour off as she is currently doing. "Would this be a conflict-of-interest with my main employer?"

As I mention regularly when responding to workplace issues, I am not a lawyer so I am not qualified to offer a legal response to Winnie's questions. But I can respond to what seems to be the right thing for Winnie to do.

Let's take her second question first. If Winnie wants to get paid for a lunch break and get paid to run the music program during said lunch break, her best course of action would be to let each employer know that is what she is doing. She may not be legally obligated to do this, but to maintain a good working relationship with each employer the best course of action would be to keep them informed. A question as simple as "Do you have any issue if I facilitate this program during my lunch break?" should suffice.

Her first question about mileage seems a little trickier at first, but because of the order in which she does her jobs, the appropriate course of action is actually pretty clear. If Winnie was offering the class before her full-time job, then asking for reimbursement from home to that job plus mileage from that job to her full-time place of employment might seem fair. But since Winnie is traveling to her full-time job first and that job does not offer mileage reimbursement, then requesting reimbursement for the entire mileage from the part-time job is inappropriate.

Based on how Winnie currently structures her workday, what does seem appropriate is for her to request a mileage reimbursement for the one or two miles she drives before and after lunchtime from her full-time job to her part-time job. Those are miles she wouldn't have had to drive for her full-time job.

An alternative would be for Winnie to simply talk to whoever manages the grant at her part-time job and ask them for advice on handling mileage reimbursement.

That may not be the legal answer, but it strikes me as the right thing for Winnie to consider. That she continues to put in the time to teach young children music also seems a pretty good thing, too. 

Jeffrey L. Seglin, author of  The Simple Art of Business Etiquette: How to Rise to the Top by Playing Nice , is a senior lecturer in public policy and director of the communications program at Harvard's Kennedy School. He is also the administrator of www.jeffreyseglin.com, a blog focused on ethical issues.

Do you have ethical questions that you need to have answered? Send them to jeffreyseglin@gmail.com.  

Follow him on Twitter @jseglin. 

(c) 2021 JEFFREY L. SEGLIN. Distributed by TRIBUNE CONTENT AGENCY, LLC.

Take as much as you want but eat as much as you take

The last time I grabbed a container of yogurt and a cup of coffee at a complimentary breakfast buffet was slightly more than a year ago at The Inn on Third in St. Petersburg, Florida. We were in town for a wedding along with more than 100 other people when such gatherings were still the norm. Because it was winter, we extended our stay for a few days beyond the wedding because, well, winters in St. Petersburg are a tad warmer than those in Boston, Massachusetts. Although it seems a fading memory now, the innkeepers on Third Street went out of their way to make the stay enjoyable.

Perhaps anticipating the day when travel including hotel stays featuring complimentary breakfast buffets again becomes as normal for many of us as it was in pre-pandemic times, a reader we're calling "Robin," because that's her name, emailed to ask whether it was OK to bring food from a hotel's complimentary breakfast back to your room.

"The price of the breakfast is built into the room cost," she wrote, but she wondered if it was acceptable to consume whatever you selected any place other than the area where the breakfast is set up. Beyond that, she also asked, "Can you take extra for lunch, snack or meal later in the day?"

In some instances, the answer to Robin's question seems clear. When we traveled with our oldest grandson to Cooperstown, New York to visit the Baseball Hall of Fame a few years ago, we stayed at a small motor lodge on the way into town that set up its breakfast choices on a window ledge in the tiny registration office. There was no choice but to take what you wanted and return to your room or to one of the picnic tables in the motor lodge's backyard. Other times, it might not be so clear what the hotel's rules are about where the consumables are consumed.

I recall one buffet several years ago featured a sign that read: "Take as much as you want but eat as much as you take." That resulted in a chuckle, but it was still unclear if they meant to eat it right there and then or if it didn't matter as long as it was eaten and not wasted.

As Robin notes in her email to me, you can reasonably assume that the hotel is fine with and expects guests to take food back to their rooms if they provide disposable containers to carry the food. If you pack up a piece of fruit and a biscuit and end up eating it a bit after the breakfast hour that hardly seems to violate the spirit of the buffet. I'm fairly certain an apple doesn't care when it's eaten and neither should the hotel staff.

The right thing, however, is for the managers of the establishment to make clear what the rules are. If there is a sign asking guests to refrain from taking food or drink back to their rooms, they should. If no such sign is posted, then it seems fair to assume it's OK to do so. Some people simply want to enjoy  their first cup of coffee of the day alone. 

Jeffrey L. Seglin, author of  The Simple Art of Business Etiquette: How to Rise to the Top by Playing Nice , is a senior lecturer in public policy and director of the communications program at Harvard's Kennedy School. He is also the administrator of www.jeffreyseglin.com, a blog focused on ethical issues.

Do you have ethical questions that you need to have answered? Send them to jeffreyseglin@gmail.com.  

Follow him on Twitter @jseglin. 

(c) 2021 JEFFREY L. SEGLIN. Distributed by TRIBUNE CONTENT AGENCY, LLC.

Looking back at another year of doing the right thing

A year ago, as I sat down to look back at the previous year's Right Thing columns, I couldn't have imagined what 2020 had in store or the range of topics I'd be covering over the course of the year.

As I do at the end of each year, I looked back at the 52 or so columns I've written to gauge the scope of topics about which I've written, the types of concerns readers share, and how I might do better in the coming year. I also assess which columns seemed to draw the most attention from readers by looking at the analytics for the website where the weekly column gets posted after it has run in publications that subscribe to it.

Gauging reader interest gives me a sense of the types of ethical issues seem most important to readers in their day-to-day lives.

In 2020, the five most-viewed columns touched on kindness, the importance of stories to remember those we've lost, decency, and thankfulness.

The fifth-most-viewed column, "Be kind when no one is looking," ran in January. It recounted how a reader's mindset was completely reframed after a barista asked about her day and comped her a cup of coffee and a day later a stranger tapped on her car window as she was parking to let her know she'd fed the meter for her. "Kindness is powerful," the reader wrote.

The fourth-most-viewed column, "Being kind, taking care of others is even more important now," ran in March just after the beginning of the pandemic. In it, I told the story of how an airline service agent and the property manager of the assisted living center in Minnesota where my ailing father lived went out of their ways to assist me as travel and visitation became challenging during the early days of the pandemic.

My May 12 column, "Our stories keep loved ones' memories alive," ran shortly after my father died. In it I wrote of how it is the stories told by those still living that keep the memories of those we've lost alive.

April's, "We do what we can to be decent," was my second most-viewed column. The story focused on how each of us looked for ways to bring normalcy and decency to our lives and those of others as many of us shifted to working, learning, or living remotely.

Finally, the most-viewed column of the year, "Even in times like these, we have reasons to be thankful," ran in November shortly after my sister died. In the column, I recounted how thankful I was for her presence in my life and for the weekly Zoom chats I had with her each Sunday at 5 p.m. for months. I wrote of how it felt like the right thing for each of us to embrace those things for which we can be grateful without losing sight of the many challenges that remain.

Thank you, as always, for continuing to email me your questions and stories and for your unabating willingness to read and respond to The Right Thing column. May your focus on kindness and decency continue to guide you through any challenging months ahead, and may your year be full of doing the right thing while surrounded by those in your life who choose to do the same.

Jeffrey L. Seglin, author of  The Simple Art of Business Etiquette: How to Rise to the Top by Playing Nice , is a senior lecturer in public policy and director of the communications program at Harvard's Kennedy School. He is also the administrator of www.jeffreyseglin.com, a blog focused on ethical issues.

Do you have ethical questions that you need to have answered? Send them to jeffreyseglin@gmail.com.  

Follow him on Twitter @jseglin. 

(c) 2021 JEFFREY L. SEGLIN. Distributed by TRIBUNE CONTENT AGENCY, LLC.

Is a reader obligated to return a package received in error?

With less than a week to go before Christmas, CBS News reported data from Shipmatrix, a company that analyzes data on shipments made in the United States, which estimated that  roughly 6 million packages were piling up in warehouses and that on-time delivery had dropped to 86%. Check Point Software Technologies, a cybersecurity company, also indicated that fake texts and emails notifying people about the shipping status of a package were up 440% from the previous month.

Late deliveries and fake notices likely have a bunch of frustrated and nervous shoppers worried about gifts being delivered on time. But still another, likely much smaller category of shoppers, have found themselves with a different perplexing package problem.

"I was excited to see a package with the gift I thought I'd ordered arrived," writes a reader we're calling "Buddy." But when he opened the box, he found a book he had never ordered.

While it wasn't wrapped, Buddy initially thought that perhaps it was a gift from someone. But there was no note and no order slip enclosed. Given the topic of the book, Buddy was pretty sure it was not a gift from anyone who knew him terribly well.

"The only return address on the box was a shipping center in Kentucky," writes Buddy. "I didn't order the book. I didn't pay for the book. I'm pretty sure it was shipped to me by mistake."

Buddy feels bad for two reasons. The first is that there's likely someone out there expecting a book about aristocrats he or she will never receive. The second is that he's torn about simply keeping the book rather than making an effort to return it, something that might prove challenging given the slim information about its origin. If he doesn't try to return it, Buddy knows the likelihood that its intended recipient will ever receive it is much lower.

"What should I do?" Buddy asks.

Buddy is kind to worry about the intended recipient never getting the book. I'm of the mind that trying to be kind is most often the right thing to do. But Buddy should not be expected to take extraordinary measures to find out who the package was truly intended for if scant information is available for him to do so. While I'm not a legal expert on such matters, the Federal Trade Commission indicates on its website that a recipient of unordered merchandise has "no legal obligation to notify the seller." But, it goes on to say that,  "you may write the seller and offer to return the merchandise, provided the seller pays for shipping and handling."

Given the minimal information about the seller Buddy has, he might be hard-pressed to contact them. But, if he wants to, he can search online for the name of the shipping center to see if there's an email address through which he can reach the seller. If he sends off an email and is asked to return the book, then it would be kind of him to do so. If he receives no response or can't find a way to contact the shipping center, he at least can rest easy that he went above and beyond by trying. Or he can simply do nothing and decide if he wants to learn about aristocrats of 19th century America by reading the book. 

Jeffrey L. Seglin, author of  The Simple Art of Business Etiquette: How to Rise to the Top by Playing Nice , is a senior lecturer in public policy and director of the communications program at Harvard's Kennedy School. He is also the administrator of www.jeffreyseglin.com, a blog focused on ethical issues.

Do you have ethical questions that you need to have answered? Send them to jeffreyseglin@gmail.com.  

Follow him on Twitter @jseglin.

(c) 2020 JEFFREY L. SEGLIN. Distributed by TRIBUNE CONTENT AGENCY, LLC.

Small acts of kindness leave a lasting impression

Several weeks ago, I asked readers to send me some stories from their lives that captured moments when they stepped up to do the right thing for someone else, regardless of whether they received recognition, or to share a time when they were the recipients of such acts. Many readers wrote in to share their stories.

One was Brenda who told me of the time in 2017 when fires were raging in Santa Rosa, California when she stopped into her local Mexican restaurant to pick up a takeout order. She noticed a fire truck from Texas in the parking lot, and asked the waitress to put the firefighters' meal on her credit card, "tip and all." She asked the restaurant staff to tell them after she left that "our town was honored they came so far to help us."

Reader Kate was at her Subaru dealer when she overheard the service desk worker tell a woman she needed two new tires. After the woman declined to replace the tires, Kate heard her whisper to a friend that "there was no way" she could afford them. Kate asked the dealer to charge her for the two tires but not to mention it to the woman, simply saying instead that the dealership was taking care of it. "It was like playing Santa Claus," Kate wrote.

Max, a Jesuit priest, was living in Alberta, Canada when he met a man whose ministry was engaging homeless people downtown in conversation. Max asked what he might offer the homeless people and was told to bring three things: bus tickets, Power Bars and cigarette rolling papers, as well as tobacco if he could afford it. "This I did," said Max.

When Irene was about 14, her 13-year-old neighbor boy yelled to her that his family's pasture was on fire. Irene yelled back to have his 17-year-old sister call in the fire. Then she and the boy grabbed a pile of empty burlap sacks, drenched them using a garden hose and started beating back the fire. Cars began stopping and people got out to help by grabbing some of the wet sacks. By the time forestry got there, the kids and those who stopped to help had extinguished the fire.

Around Christmas time in the 1970s a reader we're calling Kali went to a street artist fair near Ghirardelli Square in San Francisco. She was admiring a necklace made from an old Buffalo-head nickel from which the artist had carved out the profile of a Native American. The necklace cost $15. Kali told the artist she had just lost her job otherwise she would have purchased it. "Here," he said, and handed it to her.

"I still have the necklace," Kali writes, more than 40 years after the artist gave it to her. "I have never forgotten his generosity."

These are only a handful of the many stories readers sent. These, like other stories I received, mostly involved small acts that made a lasting impact on both the giver and receiver.

As we enter the season of both giving and receiving, it is heartening to learn of these benevolent acts, small and large, when readers decided to do something for someone else, to do the right thing, expecting nothing in return. 

Jeffrey L. Seglin, author of  The Simple Art of Business Etiquette: How to Rise to the Top by Playing Nice , is a senior lecturer in public policy and director of the communications program at Harvard's Kennedy School. He is also the administrator of www.jeffreyseglin.com, a blog focused on ethical issues.

Do you have ethical questions that you need to have answered? Send them to jeffreyseglin@gmail.com.  

Follow him on Twitter @jseglin. 

(c) 2020 JEFFREY L. SEGLIN. Distributed by TRIBUNE CONTENT AGENCY, LLC.

Avoid regrets by giving mentors flowers while they can smell them

Last week, a random tweet came across my feed that was retweeted by someone I follow but don't know. In it, the tweeter wrote that he discovered an email in his outbox that was never sent that he had written to someone thanking them for the influence they had had on him. He only discovered the unsent email after learning the recipient had died a few days after he composed the email. His tweet reminded me of my own regrets in not expressing thanks soon enough.

Forty-five years ago this coming January, I had dropped out after my first semester as a full-time college student, taken a day job as a costumed employee at Colonial Williamsburg and a night job as an assistant manager at a Hardee's hamburger restaurant. On the nights I wasn't working I took a sociology course at Christopher Newport University when it was still a two-year community college in Newport News, Virginia. Students in the course ranged from people my age to older students, several of whom were active military from one of the nearby bases. Toward the end of the spring-term course at least a couple of students couldn't make class because they were somehow involved with Operation Frequent Wind, the effort in April 1975 to evacuate more than 7,000 people from Saigon as the Vietnam War drew to a close.

But the most lasting memory for me was of the young African-American professor who taught the course. Her name was Charlotte Fitzgerald. Professor Fitzgerald's enthusiasm for the topic, her ability to engage students and her detailed feedback on written work showed me how instrumental a teacher can be to cultivating a lasting love of learning. She influenced my decision to return to school and how I engaged as a student. Years later, I emulated her approach in how I sought to work with students of my own.

It was only in December 2013, after receiving a particularly moving note from a former student of my own, that I decided a note of thanks from me to Professor Fitzgerald was long overdue.

My first attempts to locate her through Christopher Newport University were met with: "Unfortunately, we do not have this information readily available" from the registrar. A year later, I wrote again, this time to the college library, and a librarian immediately responded with a link to a page from Randolph-Macon College's website.

Professor Fitzgerald had apparently moved to teach at Randolph-Macon in 1982. After she died in 1996, the college established a scholarship in her memory for students in financial need who were majoring in the social sciences.

I remember Professor Fitzgerald as a young professor, but then so was I at the time. A cryptic entry on an ancestry database indicates she was 25 while teaching my class at Christopher Newport. She died at 46.

I regret never having had the chance to thank Professor Fitzgerald beyond a few words at our last class meeting in 1975 for the significant influence she had on me. I wish she had known how she impacted me and I'm hopeful that other students after me were far more forthcoming with praise.

After discovering that Professor Fitzgerald had died before I could thank her properly, I have made an effort to thank influential mentors and teachers while they are still around. I'm far from done, but it definitely seems the right thing to do. 

Jeffrey L. Seglin, author of  The Simple Art of Business Etiquette: How to Rise to the Top by Playing Nice , is a senior lecturer in public policy and director of the communications program at Harvard's Kennedy School. He is also the administrator of www.jeffreyseglin.com, a blog focused on ethical issues.

Do you have ethical questions that you need to have answered? Send them to jeffreyseglin@gmail.com.  

Follow him on Twitter @jseglin. 

(c) 2020 JEFFREY L. SEGLIN. Distributed by TRIBUNE CONTENT AGENCY, LLC.

Do individual efforts to feed the hungry detract from larger efforts?

Millions of people in the United States continue to go hungry each day. Prior to the pandemic, Feeding America, the largest hunger-relief organization in the United States, reported that "more than 35 million people, including nearly 11 million children, lived in a food-insecure household." According to Feeding America's "The Impact of the Coronavirus on Food Insecurity in 2020" released in October, those numbers represented the lowest level of food insecurity in the country in 20 years.

With massive unemployment caused by the pandemic, any gains made in trying to ensure that no household went hungry have been reversed, the report says. In its state-by-state breakdown, Feeding America details how "millions of people are newly experiencing food insecurity."

A few weeks ago, I wrote about the efforts of volunteers who started communal food fridges where people could donate both perishable and non-perishable food. Anyone who was in need of food could stop by 24 hours a day, seven days a week and take whatever they needed. Because the food fridge effort is entirely run by volunteers and donations, the food offerings vary widely. One day there might be lots of bread and eggs. Another day, peanut butter and pasta.

In response to the column, I received notes from individuals who for years had organized initiatives to feed people in need of food. One grassroots effort undertaken by two women in the Northeast was gearing up to collect donations and distribute gift bags as the cold weather began to hit. Hats, gloves, bottled water, snacks, cloth masks, hand warmers and gift cards for fast-food restaurants were among the items the women hoped to include in each bag.

Other readers, however, wondered if the various individual attempts to address hunger were too random to have a lasting impact. A gift bag to a homeless person doesn't solve the issue of homelessness, some wrote. Others wondered how helpful a communal refrigerator and pantry was to a household looking to feed adults and children if they couldn't predict what might be on the shelves when they arrived.

"Shouldn't we be putting all of our efforts behind a national effort to get rid of hunger?" one reader asked, arguing that it might be wrong to divert donations from larger efforts.

I agree with readers who believe that we should make a concerted effort to make sure that children and their families do not suffer from hunger. An organized, focused program to help get food to those in need does indeed seem wise.

But that does not diminish the smaller-scale efforts being made, whether through a community refrigerator and pantry, the distribution of gift bags to homeless people in the area, or any other creative means of trying to aid the millions of people suffering from food insecurity in the United States.

The right thing is not to think of this as an either/or choice, but a both/and. If you can get behind a national cause to end hunger, great. If you find a local initiative you like that seeks to bridge any gaps for those in need, contribute with gusto.

Yes, there are systemic reasons people go hungry in a developed country. And yes, it will take time and effort to try to address those reasons. Until that happens, getting food or mittens to those who need them most seems worth the effort. 

Jeffrey L. Seglin, author of  The Simple Art of Business Etiquette: How to Rise to the Top by Playing Nice , is a senior lecturer in public policy and director of the communications program at Harvard's Kennedy School. He is also the administrator of www.jeffreyseglin.com, a blog focused on ethical issues.

Do you have ethical questions that you need to have answered? Send them to jeffreyseglin@gmail.com.  

Follow him on Twitter @jseglin. 

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