The art of being unethical

My friend Slinky got me into an ethics conference this week to see one of my favorite writers for the New Yorker give a speech. When I got there, she mentioned that there was free breakfast, too. BONUS. I'm not one to pass on a free meal.

I sat down at a table and made friends with some Canadian women over our scones and coffee. They asked how I am connected to the conference. Since I wasn't completely clear on exactly what the purpose of the conference was, I felt I had to be honest.

"I'm a teacher," I explained. "I'm sort of crashing the conference. My friend got me in."

"So if you're a teacher, how come you're not at work today?"

"I should be at work," I answered, "but I'm going in a bit late. I told my boss I had a doctor's appointment."

"You lied to your boss so that you could go to an ethics conference, huh?"

I hadn't quite thought of it that way, but when she said it, it did sound kind of funny. A few minutes later, the same woman told me a story about how she had gotten from the airport to the conference. She decided to take public transit, but got confused. A nice man ended up swiping her through using his monthly transit card.

"Oh, how interesting!" I said. "You jumped the turnstile to get to the ethics conference."

I guess we all have our ethical pitfalls.