Goodwill Dismisses a Solid Societal Norm: A Mentality beyond Unethical Conduct

When managers of a business or non-profit interact with a societal norm by openly rejecting any obligation to act in accord with the norm, the reaction from stakeholders can be utter disbelief. The refusal to act in accordance with the norm as it impacts the organization can be beyond bad management and even unethical conduct. The refusal to acknowledge a societal norm even as its impact on the business and stakeholders has been arranged by the business is beyond, though it can include, unethical conduct. Norms are not in themselves ethical, for as David Hume wrote, you can’t get an ought from an is; rational justification by ethical principles must be added before we can get to, “You ought to do X” from “X is the practice.” Yet ethical principles can be in norms, in which case we can say, “You ought to act in accordance with the norm because it is ethical.” In some cases, the norm-business relationship (i.e., Business and Society) can be more salient than an ethical principle in the norm itself. A managerial practice at Goodwill, a non-profit retailer based on donations for the poor, serves as a case in point.

Goodwill stores have tags of several colors on the merchandise. During yellow tag week, merchandise with a yellow tag is half off. Every other Saturday, all of the colors are half off. By the time the doors open, customers have likely formed a long line out in front. Such lines can cover most of the front length of a store. On one such morning at one store, I saw a customer stand by the front doors opposite of the line just five minutes before the opening. I saw the store manager let that customer in second, even though it was obvious that she was not in line. Curious, I entered the store to interview that manager. He told me that his responsibility is only to open the doors, not to determine that some people can come in and others cannot. His lapse would have been easily fixed not by telling the woman, who did not evidently think that store lines applied to her, that she could not enter the store, but, rather, that she would have to go to the back of the line. I asked the manager whether he believed that the line did not pertain to his store. “It is not on our property,” he answered. “We can’t say what people can do out there.” Observing my facial expression, he said he would make sure that customers come in first who are in line, and he even made an announcement lightly chastising “the individuals” who had not waited in line.

Nevertheless, later the same day, I returned to the store to interview two of the associate store managers, both of whom also touted the property point. “So if I come here just before 9am in two weeks, I don’t have to stand in line; I could go second or third?” I asked. “Yes,” one of the associate managers said, even as her hesitation in answering came, I suspect, from a recognition that her answer violates the ethical principle of fairness. This recognition should have given her the sense that something was wrong with the policy she was supporting.

Even though the violation of justice as fairness—it is just that people enter a building in order hence via making a line—is salient in this case, the fact that managers of a store disassociated it from the line to get into the store, hence pertaining directly to the store, is even more bizarre and thus significant. The societal norm here is that customers forming a line outside a store before doors open are to be let in first. For a manager to open a store door and assume that the norm does not apply to his store, and thus does not form an obligation on his part to see that the customers in line go in first, removes him, in effect, from the society or environment in which the store functions.

Even the narrow property-limits rationale is bizarre, for Goodwill leased rather than bought the land and building, and the line of customers pertained to the store even though it did not extend to the sidewalk in front between the building and the parking lot. That the line pertained exclusively to getting into the store overrides the question of property in terms of the incurrence of an obligation because the customers in line had the societal expectation of being able to enter the store in order whether or not the sidewalk was owned by Goodwill. The managers with whom I spoke dismissed the customer’s expectation, whose legitimacy is societal (a societal norm) rather than company-based. The sheer dismissiveness is rude, not to mention bad customer service. Even though the ethical principle of fairness is in the societal norm, the bad attitude toward the customers, the lazy approach to opening the store’s front door, and the decision that the societal norm does not apply to that store are not necessarily unethical (or at least an ethical argument would need to be made).

Narrow self-interest, which business managers tend to adopt, is not in itself unethical. For one thing, the business and financial systems have infrastructures and norms that virtually necessitate it at the firm level. Even so, if stakeholders (or others) are harmed as a consequence, then the narrowness is culpable ethically. In this case study, the harm to the customers in line from one person entering second from opposite the line is small. Few of the customers in line could even see the interloper, and none of the customers—in line or afterward—would have guessed that the store manager’s initial position (and those of two of his associate managers) regarding the store’s responsibility to let the people in line in first.

In fact, that the associate manager who answered affirmatively that I would not need to stand in line (because Goodwill is only concerned, by right, with what goes on inside the stores) had come to such a nonsensical conclusion (and stood behind it) is not in itself unethical. She was not lying, for instance; she really believed herself. Moreover, that a person could believe anything so nonsensical (including the property argument) is also not unethical. Perhaps in the field of business and society, psychology figures in more than does even ethics. Of course, the norms-based field of business and society is (or ought to be!) distinct from business ethics even though the two relate, such as in there being an ethical principle (e.g., fairness) in a societal norm that is not in itself ethical because it merely is.

“No Loans” on Gun Sales: G.E. as Socially Responsible or Financially Savvy?

In the wake of the Sandy Hook school shooting in Newton, Connecticut in late 2012, General Electric announced that the company would no longer finance consumers’ gun purchases. Russell Wilkerson, a G.E. spokesman, wrote in an email that the new policy was being adopted “in light of industry changes, new legislation and tragic events that have caused widespread re-examination of policies on fire-arms.” In other words, the policy shift was not simply a reaction to Sandy Hook. Rather, the company’s executives were adapting to changes in the organization’s environment, including the industry itself. This opens up the question of whether the new policy can be classified under the rubric of corporate social responsibility (CSR). Perhaps the adaptation was simply good business, with the appearance of “CSR” adding some reputational capital through a good public-relations campaign.

Do business principles mandate treating this product like any other?  Source: NBC News

Well-meaning moralists in particular may have a tendency to project their own strident sense of obligation onto other people, and even organizations as if they too could be moral agents. Yet an organization, like a biological organism, must adapt to its changing environment, or risk being replaced by a competitor that has achieved a better fit to the new environment. Does such adaptation, which renders a company more fit by means of a sort of competitive natural-selection process, involve obligation manifested as responsibility to that environment, or is the adapting simply a matter of survival and even accruing surplus? To do one’s duty is not typically said of what a person wants to do anyway in line with self-interest. A person would quickly see through my claim that it is my duty to eat the remaining chocolate sundae so not to waste food. People do not typically fall over themselves to do something out of a feeling of duty or felt responsibility. For the sense of obligation or responsibility to be the primary motivator, the person (or persons, in the case of a company) must not otherwise be inclined, as from the anticipation of a benefit, to act. When stimulated, self-interest tends to eclipse the feeling of duty of responsibility. This thesis can be applied to GE’s policy on financing firearm purchases. 
First, though, can the policy be said to fall under the rubric of corporate social responsibility? What if marketing the policy was simply good business? The societal benefit in making it more difficult for people to buy guns may simply have been intended as a byproduct. Surely the societal good of a byproduct has worth even without having been motivated when the policy was chosen. Even so, the primacy of self-interest--the profit motive--irrationally taints the resulting societal good. Such a company's societal reputation would be enhanced by the good of the byproduct and decreased by the primary motivation of self-interest.  
How salient was the profit-motive in GE's decision to stop lending on gun sales, and how great was the impact in terms of the benefit to society, beyond the company? GE Capital Finance had already stopped providing consumer financing for new gun-shop customers in 2008. The policy change in 2013 merely extended the ban to existing customers. So it is not as though potentially new customers would be discouraged from buying a gun on impulse for nefarious purposes. The impact on the bottom line from lost sales could not have been assumed to be great; even if new and existing gun customers had been eligible for financing before the policy change in 2013, we would still be talking about a small fraction of GE’s revenue. Additionally, according to USA Today in 2013, GE’s “decision affects fewer than 75 retailers, which GE says is about 0.001% of all gun retailers.” This is because the policy “affects only retailers that sell firearms exclusively.” General merchandise stores, such as Walmart, were excluded from the company’s lending ban. 
However, Wells Fargo had stopped financing gun purchases in 2004 “for business reasons,” according to company spokeswoman Lisa Westermann. Perhaps it was good business at GE too, but not directly. 
Indeed, the "corporate social responsibility" policy as promotion could have been expected to boost sales companywide without much cost in foregone gun sales on credit to new customers in gun stores only. In fact, the policy as promoted could even be misleading, as in the article's title in USA Today, “GE Won’t Make Loans to Buy Guns” even though GE would still be financing guns—just not through stores that sell only guns. The gap itself between the publicized and actual policy could mean that the managers' intent had been to use “marketed CSR” to boost the company's reputational capital with as little cost as possible. In other words, the profit-motive was likely the motive. If most of GE’s lending on gun purchases was through multi-merchandise retail stores, GE could capitalize financially on sympathy from the school shooting without having to give up much financially. Interestingly, the shooter’s father, Peter Lanza, was a GE executive at the time—the company being based in Fairfield, Connecticut. Had other GE executives felt obligated, also being at such close range to the tragedy, to protect the kids, we would not have seen the sort of motivation that led to the exceptions and allowing the misleading storyline to go uncorrected. Were the primary intent that of protecting kids at schools from getting shot, the loopholes would not have been allowed to exist even if GE had to wait for contract renewals with general-purpose retailers such as Walmart.  
Often corporate social responsibility and business ethics are conflated. The distinction in this case is clear. The fitness of a policy to societal norms is a descriptive matter of whether organizational values are in sync with societal ones, whereas the misleading claim to have have ended loans on gun sales is a normative matter. Whether the norm in GE is consistent with the societal norm on the role of guns in the tragedies does not require justification by ethical reasoning and principles or theories. In contrast, whether a company should be misleading or even fail to stop it in the press necessarily includes resort to ethical principles, for only they can justify the claim that the motive or consequence is unethical. 
Still another lesson to take from this case involves the choice to wade into a controversial societal issue. As in the case of gun control, which is really about access to guns, entering a controversial debate puts a company at risk for being negatively viewed by the “other side.” This could significantly reduce the good  to the company obtained from the use of corporate social responsibility. 
A USA Today poll taken at the time of the policy change in 2013 found public support for new gun-control legislation “slipping below” 50 percent. GE risked many people agreeing with John Meek, the owner of a gun store in Illinois, who called GE’s policy “an injustice” because the instrument rather than the user is being blamed. Howard Schultz of Starbucks, in contrast, correctly judged the changing American attitude toward gay marriage in using the company to promote the cause, even if a CEO using a company for a personal political agenda is unethical. A dramatically changing shift in societal mores, norms, or attitudes is like a wave that managers strategizing corporate social responsibility programs and policies can ride, whether the motive is financial gain only or includes improving the social good. What might seem like an easy way to enhance a company's societal reputation can easily backfire if not done with attention to a changing business environment. 

Source:

Paul Davidson, “GE Won’t Make Loans to Buy Guns,” USA Today, April 25, 2013.

Thanksgiving Elipsed by Christmas: Will the Offending Businesses Go Extinct?

Even as the business-sourced encroachment of Christmas had all but eclipsed the American holiday of Thanksgiving in 2013 on account of the day falling so late in November (as if four weeks were somehow not a long enough time for gift-buying), the on-going trend (or stampede) of stores opening earlier and earlier on Thanksgiving puts the holiday itself in the cross-hairs of the retail rifles. Thanksgiving may one day be essentially extinct, and, ironically, so too might be the usual suspects--the enterprises themselves.
The New York Times reported in mid-November 2011, “Major chains like Target, Macy’s, Best Buy and Kohl’s say they will open for the first time at midnight on Thanksgiving, and Wal-Mart will go even further, with a 10 p.m. Thanksgiving start for deals on some merchandise. . . . To be at or near the front of the line, shoppers say they will now have to leave home hours earlier — in the middle of the turkey dinner for some.”[1] Of course, Wal-Mart stores would be open all day, as usual; the significance of midnight lies only in terms of the sales; the stores would still need to be staffed all day. In 2012, 10 p.m. became the new normal. Two years later, 8 p.m. (20:00h) earned the distinction. Four hours into Thanksgiving was apparently enough for Kmart to “go all the way,” opening at 6 a.m. on Thanksgiving. Old Navy extended back to 9 a.m. It is amazing how fast a trickle from a few cracks can turn into a deluge, especially when profit is the force beckoning the water down-stream. 
Resisting the smooth flow in 2011,  an apparent anti-entropic energy-attractor was on track to blaze a new path. Bill Gentner, senior vice president for marketing for J.C. Penney, refused to go along with herd down the easiest path of energy transduction, which can paradoxically render the person, species, or human organization less fit to adapt via natural selection. “We wanted to give our associates Thanksgiving Day to spend with their families,” Gentner said just before Thanksgiving in 2011.[2]  In standing on this principle, the management group at J.C. Penney voluntarily resisted the “quick buck” (i.e., pulling in money as soon as possible) and perhaps even held business calculation at bay in the face of a normative societal “constraint.” 
Lest I am “gilding the lily” (i.e., painting a halo around Bill Gentner’s head), J.C. Penny’s management may also have been seeking to amass reputational capital with the intent to “spend” it to increase sales revenue  beyond 2011. The company could then be fitter in adapting to a nonlinear (i.e., chaotic) business environment, and thus more likely to survive through the cumulative cascades of natural selection. Linking evolutionary theory to thermodynamics and applying the fused thrust to business, I contend that capturing and concentrating energy in the battery, or storage cell, of reputational capital enables a company to survive under the pressures of natural selection by functioning as a transductor of energy along a high energy gradient. 
Unlike floating down-stream with the other fish, adding to the swirling force of an eddy enables an enterprise act as a conduit on a much steeper energy-gradient. Concentrating acquired energy rather than merely passing it through as though a digestive track is requisite to taking the road less travelled down steeper energy-gradients than those in the status quo. Similar to the time value of money, the delayed gratification enabling an enterprise to ski on a steeper slope renders the organization more fit or adapted to its environment and thus profitable beyond tomorrow. In other words, functioning as an energy-conduit along a steeper gradient profits a business in terms of natural selection, and thus a more secure continued viability.[3]
Alternatively, taking the alternative route, the more convenient one, ultimately leads to extinction. Typically, convenience knows itself as a lie. For example, Holly Thomas, one of Macy’s spokespersons, wrote in an email in 2011 regarding employees working on Thanksgiving, “There are many associates who would prefer to work this time as they appreciate the flexibility it affords their schedules for the holiday weekend.”[4] As if referring to a summer baseball team rather than employees, Molly Snyder, a spokesperson at Target, said that her company does its “best to work around the schedules of [its] team members.” Nevertheless, a Target employee told me that the store managers do not in any sense do their best to accommodate exogenous schedules of the underlings. In going with a bland subterfuge rather than adapting to societal norms, Target's management put the company at odds with the principle of natural selection. 
The lure of instant gratification in lieu of reputational capital and fitness to survive the accretions of natural selection over time can easily short-circuit efforts to charge the battery at the expense of increased sales revenue in the short term. Sadly, the management at J.C. Penny succumbed in 2012 to opening stores at 10 p.m. on Thanksgiving. The following year, the company joined many others in opening at 8 p.m. (20:00h). Nothing punctures a pressurizing balloon quite like that the piercing edge of hypocrisy. Put another way, having stores open on Thanksgiving evening not only cuts into or even eliminates Thanksgiving dinner (i.e., in the evening) for many store managers and non-supervisory employees, but also sends the passive-aggressive message that they don’t count after all. Actions speak louder than words. 
So J.C. Penny’s management wimped out, or lapsed back to the bottle yet without hitting bottom. Being less fit than otherwise to navigate the turgid currents in natural selection over the long term, the retail giant risked being caught unaware should a careening stone hit a sweet spot from a smaller foe releasing a burst of (stored) potential energy to take advantage of a steep energy gradient. From this tale, we can now recognize the tyranny of the road most traveled as a well-worn, deep-rutted path of self-destructive (i.e., dysfunctional) business strategy. In other words, business as usual is woefully far indeed from good business management. Nevertheless, the vast majority of management groups in companies are under the false impression that scientific management has optimized modern management. While technical coordination aimed at the perfection of efficiency is important to a business functioning as an energy-attractor and transductor along a steep slope, the size and depth of the shared blind-spot bewilders me and beguiles the pro-business American society at large. If I am correct, business could be done much, much better.
 

1. Stephanie Clifford, “Thanksgiving as Day to Shop Meets Rejection,” The New York Times, November 11, 2011.
2. Ibid.

3. William C. Frederick, Natural Corporate Management: From the Big Bang to Wall Street (Sheffield, UK: Greenleaf Publishing, 2012).

4. Hadley Malcolm, “Black Friday Backlash as Stores Add to Thanksgiving Hours,” USA Today, November 15, 2011.

The Mega-sized Shopping Mall: A 20th-Century Artifact?

Between 1956 and 2005, fifteen-hundred (indoor) shopping malls popped up across America. Then through 2013 at least, none had been built since 2006. The interstate highway system helped usher in the mammoth malls like Mall of America in Minnesota and Woodfield Mall in Illinois; the cold climes made the indoor expanses of warm air particularly alluring during the long winters. The two landmarks among malls would likely fare better than most in staving off even their own respective stores’ cannibalistic online-sales charms at least for a while, absent an upward-revision on global warming forecasts flashing relentlessly on smartphones, tablets, and laptops. The leap from the pedestrian innovations at Selfridge’s department store in early twentieth-century London to Amazon’s Cyber Monday during the 2010s, a silver century later, would seem to be  all about the computer revolution digitizing distance that had once been viewed in terms of social class and then gradually succumbing to closer physical distance, as in Selfridge’s accommodating store.[1]

Even as housewives on a budget joyfully discovered that bargains could be found even in a service-oriented department store without being thrown out just for browsing, aristocratic women returned to the store to purchase fine gloves or perfume astutely advised by a polite, attentive clerk—an antiquated idyllic image of “shopping” a century later in a world saturated by Walmart’s “warehouse” (or barn) mega-department/grocery stores.[2] Indeed, the king himself requested a private showing of Selfridge’s out of curiosity regarding the new thing known as “shopping” and to show himself to be a man of the people (of various social classes). Few people a century later would pause to ask whether the foray of online purchases would make the term shopping obsolete.[3]

Moreover, the sliding eclipse of the hackneyed American mall harkens back to the truism hardly remembered amid all the technological distractions that the world of yesterday is not nearly as everlasting as implicitly promised in its hay-day.

In the last quarter of the twentieth century, the display of Christmas decorations before Thanksgiving, earlier and earlier each year, attested to change in progress. The relative insignificance of this fixation would come to hide the "macro" or "meta" change concerning the mall itself in the first two decades of the next century. 

While the little mall marketers scamper about, scrambling to do the twentieth-century department store one better in terms of a “one stop experience” by highlighting entertainment on top of the “same old, same old” heterogeneous product types being under one roof, no one hardly bothers to imagine the mall itself (not to mention the acutely structured department store) as being of another era—a world already gone—a bygone time somehow vicariously still with us—as if the artifice were a squashed bug mistaking its flinching movements for still being alive. The temporal illusion lies in the extremely slow “squashing” noise of register-less electronic sales. As the niggardly management of Target can attest, the silent killers can be the most devastating, even if the extent of the cyber fingerprints are only fully visible in retrospect.

Amid the wrecking balls eating up memories left and right, the twenty-first century stood wide open for the technological imagination to form. Amid all the excitement, it is no wonder that people who came of age at the mall will look around one day, as if suddenly awakened by nothing in particular, to find that the ‘70s show has indeed gone off air due to low ratings.

---

[1] Rejecting the “premium” vs. “cost leadership” business strategies, Selfridge used sales-items to draw in business from cost-conscious consumers (not “guests,” as in the artful lie played out on Target’s stage by functionaries whose superiority over the dictionary gives their stores a rather odious odor). Unlike the managers at Walmart and Target a century later, Selfridge did not view the continued presence of refined yet simple sales clerks as mutually exclusive with extending the product-lines “down” to lower priced items (supplemented by relatively broad sales).

[2] While at a Walmart store to buy underwear, I noticed a few plastic bags containing product had been open. An employee was then passing by me so I asked if she knew about it. “How else are customers going to be able to try them on unless they open the bags?” she replied. The sales associate had no doubt concerning her “knowledge” of retail. Had I pointed out trying on underwear violates OHSA regulations, the employee would in all likelihood have dismissed my “opinion” in favor of her own “knowledge.” Doubtless a European aristocrat would not return to such a store again.

[3] To the extent that “shopping” includes browsing, being able to “google search” a product may mean that searching is already replacing shopping; by implication, going to a “brick and mortar” store to purchase or merely pick up the product does not involve shopping. Yet how hard old ghosts fall; it is as people use terms generally without bothering to verify that the respective meanings still apply. In other words, we may speak without thinking more often than we suppose. In fact, some of the herd animals may succumb in weakness to their urge to “push” their meaning as a weapon of sorts. A young assistant store manager at Target once corrected me in demanding I acknowledge that I’m a guest rather than a customer. The cocktail of ignorance, arrogance, and the primal urge to dominate is as toxic and dangerous as it is ubiquitous in American business of the 2010s (not to mention American society). 

New Birds of Prey in Modern Retail

In a dysfunctional organization, the shared pathology fortifies its defense mechanisms with an obstinacy that appears rock-solid. Lines such as, “Unfortunately, the product cannot be returned” can be seen as part of an egg shell that seems to be durable until it is cracked open. By analogy, cracking the egg entails parsing such lines as are typically dished out to outsiders. Let’s take a look.

First, the word cannot is incorrectly used in the sentence, for a store’s return policy is not a law; whereas a business is subject to a law, no such requirement pertains to a company’s own policies. To treat the latter as tantamount to laws is essentially to vaunt the self-importance of the company, store, and even the employee enunciating the policy-law. “Your policies are not laws; of course you can make an exception, even if your supervisor is the person who can do it.” The word cannot serves the organizational dysfunction by giving the impression externally that the company is more than it is (i.e., a state of sorts with its own laws). At the employee level, the devise is essentially a power-grab—a distended or exaggerated urge to control others being a typical symptom of insecurity borne of underlying weakness.

Substituting may not for cannot gives the customer at least an implied opening that from the standpoint of the organizational pathology could prompt him or her to push through the defense mechanisms and trounce the core weakness. Were an “upper” manager to even consider such a linguistic change, an underling would likely contend that every customer would be returning items. The fallacy in this reasoning goes by the wayside in the mechanizations of the organizational dysfunction. Indeed, ignoring or dismissing logical fallacies is itself one of the defense mechanisms!  This is arguing with such an employee or manager is apt to be an exercise in futility.

Notice the "exchanges accepted" instead of "accept exchanges." The passive voice extends to "are revised" and "are shipped," suggesting an underlying mentality of weakness. Also, the forcefulness of the "must" (as one might expect pertains to a law) is belied by the inherent subjectivity in "mint condition." Finally, the blood-red color, as well as the black background color, suggests a certain passive-aggressiveness in line with the use of "must" for what is actually a policy (rather than a law). (Image Source: omgmiamiswimsuits.com)

Second, the use of the passive mood also hints at the underlying weakness in the dysfunctional organization because the action is sidestepped. “We do not accept returned items” highlights the action (i.e., the refusing) of the company’s employees/managers whereas “cannot be returned” omits the actor entirely! The latter phraseology matches the insecurity that naturally manifests out of weakness. Besides implying that the power of the actor to act is in some way compromised or enervated, the passive voice hides the actor and thus protects him or her from being confronted. The actor’s underlying fear here is that a head-to-head clash would not end well for the actor, given his or her own and shared (i.e., organizational) pathology.

Third, just as the choice of the word cannot and the use of the passive voice both involve a manipulatory fabrication (i.e., lying with a hidden agenda), so too does the addition of the unnecessary adverb, unfortunately. For the stealth actor (i.e., the non-supervisory or managerial employee), the policy is hardly unfortunate; otherwise, the policy would not be “on the books.” Lest the adverb is intended to refer to the customer [rather, lest the policy’s formulator or the employee mouthing it is referring to the customers]—as though the fact that the customers would have to keep ill-suited products were unfortunate—the policy itself indicates just how much its formulator and implementers really sympathize, especially since the formulator can change the policy. In other words, the use of the word is a lie designed to give the customer the false impression that “the store” really cares and that unfortunately the policy cannot be changed (and by whom?).

Even the tactic itself in such a line is a lie in that the pathogens are utterly unwilling to tolerate the very same tactic directed back at them. A customer wanting more than a glimpse of the sickness need only reply, “Unfortunately any refusal to accept back the deformed item will have to be turned over to small claims court.” Even though the particular employee would have no involvement in such legal proceedings, and thus no rational reason to bristle at the customer’s stated policy/law, he or she would be too accustomed to dictating terms to customers to let that privilege lapse without at least a spike in anger and attempt to regain the upper hand. “You are free to do so,” an employee might retort, as though he or she were granting or allowing the freedom. In fact, the implication is rather arrogant, again as if the company were akin to a state rather than being a mere counter-party in a commercial exchange. 

The hidden agenda becomes apparent by realizing that the statement is duplicitous or redundant, as the customer obviously already knows that he or she has the liberty to sue. The employee knows this of course, either consciously or unconsciously, and is not really informing the customer that he or she can go to small-claims court. “I don’t need you to tell me I can do what I’ve already told you I know I am free to do,” an astute customer might retort in turn. 

The exchange of words is really a control battle stemming from an organizational pathology’s attempts to defend itself against potentially interlarding intruders. The threat is of course over-stated—hence the exaggerated intent to “nail down the hatches” to weather the perceived storm. Yet the “new birds of prey”—Nietzsche’s label for those among the weak who can’t resist their urge do dominate (even the strong)—are not content to merely defend, for they must have the upper hand in order to feel sufficiently protected. 

Best Buy: A Retail Company Using Apology to Sell Still More

As I was entering a “Bestbuy” store one summer day wearing shorts and a tee shirt and carrying my ubiquitous book bag (as you might expect), the security person, whom the manager later told me also works at a prison, walked after me as though stalking me, practially yelling “Sir! Sir!” Reaching me as I was talking to a salesperson who was treating me as though I were a customer, the lineback demanded to look in my book bag immediately. I stated matter of factly that I had had no opportunity to stash anything from the store in my bag while walking in the front door (after which he saw my every move).  Nevertheless, I opened my pouch for him and he was satisifed. After I left the salesperson, I reported the incident to a manager, whose “company apologizes” was belied by his curtness and fake politieness. Can a company even apologize? 

The full essay has been incorporated into On the Arrogance of False Entitlement: A Nietzschean Critique of Business Ethics and Management, which is available in print and as an ebook at Amazon.