Little white lies sound harmless enough, don’t they? I mean the word little is right there, implying that the falsehood is of no practical importance. I’m not sure where the white comes from. Maybe innocence, like heaven, as opposed to the darkness of doom. The only part of the phrase that I’m sure of is lies. Everyone knows what a lie is.And while we think little white lies may be of no importance, consider the following quote from William Paley’s 1785 work, The Principles of Moral and Political Philosophy: “White lies always introduce others of a darker complexion.” (By the way, that quote appears in the Oxford English Dictionary, which is where I lifted it. I don’t remember quotes from random 18th century philosophy books. I’m not that smart.)Instead of weighing the innocence and dangers of little white lies, let me just tell you a story.During my third year in college I took a business ethics course. I was a business major at the time, and the course was required, but I wasn’t at all enthusiastic about it. In fact, I wasn’t enthusiastic about business at all, and ended up changing my major. However, at the time I had no choice but to take the business ethics course.I went to a different class on the first nice spring day, and then decided I’d rather goof off than go to the business ethics class. So I left campus and drove to a friend’s house to hang out. Business ethics was a piece of cake, so I didn’t mind missing one class.However, when I returned to campus the next day and joined a couple of friends hanging out at the student union, one of them asked me why I missed the exam.Exam? What exam? My friend informed me that I’d missed the mid-term exam the previous day.Bad news. Most philosophy professors are rather laid back, casual folks and this dude was no exception. He had only one rule: no makeup exams.So you see my predicament. This is a required course. The mid-term exam is a big chunk of our grade. And I forgot to take the exam, choosing instead an afternoon of rollerblading.I did the only thing possible. I lied. To a guy teaching a business ethics class.As my friends and I discussed the situation, we speculated as to whether the professor’s no makeups rule was absolute. He’d taught us all semester to be wary of absolutes. Why should we think his rules were any different?One of my friends informed me that her dad owned an automotive body shop. He could provide me a fake estimate for car repairs, and I could bring the estimate to the professor and tell him that I’d been in an accident. My car was heavily damaged. No way could I have made it to campus to take the mid-term. Surely he’d be sympathetic.So the next day my friend shows up with a $4,000 estimate to repair my car. Apparently her dad had helped some of her friends before, so he had some experience. I felt a little uneasy about the whole thing, but I had no choice.Before class I went to see the professor, gave him the estimate, and pleaded my case, making special mention of my respect for ethics and his no makeups rule. He listened intently, nodded, rubbed his chin, said “Hmm,” at all the appropriate times. I thought my plan might work. I thought my friend was a genius.He paused for a minute, and said something like the following: “It’s not that I don’t believe you, but I need something more official. How about you get a copy of the police report?”Oh shit.How had we not thought of that before? It’s such an obvious question, how had it escaped us? I thought my friend was an idiot.Quick thinking is not my forte, so I stood there dumbstruck for a moment, uttered “Uh” and “Um” a few too many times, and quickly calculated that I had no way to forge a police report. Not to mention that I suspect a forged police report is against the law.“There was no police report,” I said. Luckily, I’d refrained from being too specific in my description of the accident, so I left myself free to concoct a fantastic story on the spot. I could tell right away that the professor didn’t believe me.After assuring him that I wasn’t making it up, he said he needed time to think about it. I should see him the next day before class.Cut to the next day, twenty minutes before class, I go to his office and a man in a shirt and tie is sitting across the desk from him. The professor sees me, waves me into his office, and introduces Detective Rueth from the police department in a neighboring town.
I peed my pants. Not literally. I think. But I was scared.Turns out that when my professor said “Hmm” the previous day, he was actually thinking “Hmm, this is the same kind of car involved in the hit-and-run I read about in the newspaper this morning.” And I just happened to have no police report. Convenient.He calls the police, gives them the repair invoice, and of course they want to talk to me.Left with the choice of sticking to my story and risk getting sent to the hoosegow, or recanting and failing the midterm, I sang like a canary! I told the two men that I made the whole thing up. I had blown off the class. I hadn’t been in an accident. The estimate was a fake. I’d accept my punishment.Funny thing about lies though. They’re sometimes hard to get out of.When I tried to tell the truth, neither man believed me. They guessed that I was trying to cover for myself. I pleaded my case, tried to convince them that I was lying, but got nowhere. The detective suggested I come with him for some questioning. I suggested he call the body shop.He agreed. Unfortunately, my friend’s dad, who just wanted to be helpful to me, assured the detective—who had conveniently failed to identify himself as an officer of the law—that the estimate was legit. The damage was extensive.Oh great!Just as I had visions of spending my twenties behind bars, a moment of completely intellectual clarity washed over me. Why not just look at the car? It was right in the parking lot.The three of us went to the parking lot and saw my car parked there. No damage. Rust spots showing that nothing had been recently replaced. Confirmation that I hadn’t been in an accident.The detective chastised me for making up a story and wasting his time. My instructor apologized to the detective and told me I’d have to take an F on the mid-term.And all from a little white lie.So be careful. What starts as a little white lie can get you in big trouble. The police might get involved. You might fail a class. You might pee your pants.Even in the best case scenario, you might make some people mad.Almost as mad as you probably are to learn that I just made up this entire story!The theme given to ChicagoNow bloggers to write on this week was "Little White Lies." This is my contribution.PREVIOUS POST: Dr. Seuss is TupacIF YOU LIKED THIS POST I BET YOU'LL ALSO LIKE: The Time I Saw a UFO+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++Hey, did you like reading this? If so, you should Share it on Facebook so you can bring joy to others. You can also find tons of other posts by me here. And you can like my Facebook page, Brett Baker Writes. Please.
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