The phone rang for the tenth time, and I was grateful that I wasn’t in the newsroom alone. Steve, in his wrinkly t-shirt and baggy pants, picked up the phone. “News-desk.” He waited, listening. I wondered how he could hear the caller over the din of the police and fire radio-scanners lined up along the edge of the news-desk. “Like I said, you have to leave the area. The police won’t release the paramedics until you and your friends leave the area.” He listened again, a slight scowl on his face. He reached out and turned the volume down on the nearest scanner.
The sea of empty desks in the newsroom made it feel like Steve and I weren’t supposed to be there. Usually, Steve and I preferred our independence during our overnight shift (I was Steve’s Associate Producer), but tonight I wished the other producers were there to take charge of the situation. Steve had decades of experience in producing the news, but he was also jaded, in poor health, and hard-of-hearing. I watched him lean toward the phone’s cradle. “What? No. The police told you to leave. We’re listening to the scanners. I’m telling you again, you have to leave the area if you want them to come in and help your friend.” He hung up the phone.
What would I say to the caller, in Steve’s place? Steve lingered at the news-desk and I hoped that he wouldn’t disappear for a few hours like he sometimes did before we aired the morning show. The caller would likely call again.
Steve’s responses indicated to me what the caller said: “Our friend has been shot and the ambulance won’t come and get him!” The caller was part of a block party that turned chaotic when someone shot the caller’s friend. The shooter had disappeared into the crowd.
In response to the caller’s plea for our news-station’s attention, Steve took care in what he said. The police and fire departments knew our newsroom had scanners, and knew we often received calls from people at “active” scenes. If we divulged too much of what we knew about a scene to any member of the public who called in, we could inadvertently help the perpetrators of a crime, put people in danger, and damage our precarious relationship with the authorities.
We needed the police for reliable information on big stories, but many detectives considered talking to the press to be a liability, given our influence on the public’s view of their performance. The police maintained a low tolerance for anything from us that could be seen as interference. But all that didn’t matter to me in this instance – someone was hurt and needed medical attention. I imagined what I would want to say to the caller while Steve moved from the news-desk and disappeared down the hallway:
Listen, the police won’t let the paramedics get close because they can’t locate the shooter. Can you see where the ambulances are? Can you carry your friend there? Go now.
Moral Quicksand
“You never heard, if it bleeds, it leads?” Steve tilted back in his desk chair and fixed me with a smug look. I shook my head. It was my first day. “That’s how they decide what story to place in the first block of a show. It was a popular phrase in the late eighties… and you wouldn’t believe a place like this back then, and in the decade or so before that.” Steve gestured to the newsroom and smirked. “They kept cocaine on top the cabinet in the photographer’s room and…” Steve’s smirk spread into a smile, and he shook his head. “We were all rock stars, before there was cable news.”
Our news-station’s priority was to keep viewers tuned in, and our producers structured their newscasts with this in mind. The lead story was always a flashy one (a fire, or an unsolved crime) and the weather forecast was always last. Viewers tuned in for the lead story, and then kept the show on so that they wouldn’t miss the weather report. To maintain that interest, producers “teased” the weather segment in brief intervals throughout the show. Shows with extreme weather as the lead story pulled in the highest ratings, and ratings were king. Higher ratings meant a bigger draw for advertisers.
At first, I liked chasing stories and writing about current events. But rarely did the humanity of a story make it into the report — just the what, who, when, how and why a viewer should care, which almost always was because this could happen to you, and if you are not aware, then you’ll be a hapless victim too. A few months into the job, I had a dream that I was being crushed under an immense, inescapable weight. I woke up in a panic. I felt anxious all the time, and as though I, or my humanity, fought for a handhold in quicksand. Finally I realized: In my employer’s view, compassion wasn’t newsworthy, and in my view, no one could live without it.
Are Your Morals Welcome at Work?
A refresher on the difference between morals and ethics: morals are internal, and based on personal principles of right and wrong; whereas ethics are external, and often set by a society or other authoritative group, like the code of ethics for a doctor or lawyer. A worker may adhere to a code of professional ethics, while feeling differently on their own moral level. An attorney who knows her client is guilty, but strives for their freedom because she is ethically obligated to give them the best defense possible, is an example.
Workplace values and culture also have different definitions. Values rarely change, and form the “why” behind a company’s purpose, while a company’s culture is constantly shifting as employees join and depart — or so says Alex Bard, CEO of Campaign Monitor. In my experience at the news station, the value of delivering news in a style that kept the viewer enthralled drove the newsroom’s practices, though their stated ethics promised fair and unbiased reporting.
When I first started out on my own, and for the majority of my career, I thought that I carried my morals around with me in a mental back pocket, where they were readily available. I didn’t have to think about my morals to benefit from them — they were a subconscious positive influence, like breathing. But when I reached for my morals during instances involving gray areas, I was often left unsure of where I stood. I was troubled by the news-station’s influence over the public, who never asked what morals or values the news station embraced. Now I benefit from a definite list of my moral principles, and I hope to inspire you to create your own.
To help you identify your own moral principles, see the following list of morals that you likely have in common with people all over the world, according to an article from The Evolution Institute. Author Oliver Scott Curry defines morality, based on his findings, as “a collection of tools for promoting cooperation.” While I agree with that scientific view, my morals feel more personally, than collectively, beneficial. I do, however, see how adhering to moral principles benefits everyone. Here’s the list of seven common morals from different cultures around the world:
- Love your family
- Help your group
- Return favors
- Be brave
- Defer to authority
- Be fair
- Respect each other’s property
Coincidentally, this list matches my own personal morals almost exactly. I am also happy to say that my current company’s culture and values do not conflict with any moral on my list. I wish I realized the importance of this pairing long ago. I now believe that to thrive at work, your list of morals and your company’s values must not clash.
There Are No Re-Dos, But It’s Never Too Late for a Reset
I imagine the following scenario, a “re-do”, for when I worked at the news station. I am suffering from anxiety that manifests as insomnia, terrible eating habits, and poor health, prompting introspection which leads me to make a list of my morals. I compare that list to the news-station’s practices, and I realize that my anxiety stems from discomfort and guilt. I decide to leave the news station, not because I feel like I am not good at the job, but because the job is not good for me.
In reality, when I eventually left the news station it was with a feeling of overall dissatisfaction and disappointment, and of failure, and I couldn’t pinpoint why. I packed up my things, moved out of my apartment, and headed for my childhood home. I had no career direction in mind, and my self-confidence was at an all-time low. I wish I knew before then, what I know now — that keeping a definite list of personal morals close at hand is like keeping a trusty flashlight in your back pocket.