The boy wanted sushi, so we ended up sitting next to a pair of university students around the grills of a Japanese restaurant where the chef puts on a show whether you want it or not.
The chef was clearly enamored of the two girls, who ended up with much more food than me and much more food than they could eat in a single sitting. They dutifully scraped the mounds of rice and chicken off their plates and into stryfoam containers, enough food for at least two more meals each.
Then one girl put two full sauce dishes of shrimp sauce into her container — including the restaurant’s dishes. “I’d eat this stuff on nearly anything,” she said.
A broadcast major helped abet the crime, whispering to her friend: “Hurry. You gotta be fast or they’ll see you.”
I saw their petit larceny. My and my wife both told them that if you asked, the restaurant would be happy to provide extra sauce in take-out containers. I even (half)-jokingly mentioned that I had only turned in four students for academic misconduct in the last academic year, and that they knew better than to do what they were doing.
They put the bowls back on the table after I asked a waiter to bring sauce to them. They left the restaurant with their phones to their ears, the usual way of not having to deal with the reality around you.
I felt mortified for both girls, particularly the broadcast major. If you are afraid to ask for something — and perhaps more comfortable helping steal – then maybe mass communication isn’t for you.
I also felt bad for media ethics professors, who are entrusted to teach the values to future practitioners. How can we teach students to work for the public’s benefit — much less not lie or plagiarize — if they figure it’s OK to steal a pair of 1-by-2-inch bowls from a restaurant?
As former editor friend of mine used to say about underperforming reporters: “Somebody should sit her down and tell her that selling shoes is a perfectly respectable line of work.”