Making the Right Choice Based on Reason

Ethical Memoir

My first job when I was 16 was at a movie theater. As an usher at the theater, I had many responsibilities: taking tickets, taking out trash, directing people, and cleaning out auditoriums at the end of a show. One of the interesting things about the job was that people were always leaving items behind in auditoriums: umbrellas, jackets, books, full bags of snacks unopened, pop cans that were brought in from outside, car keys that fell out of pockets, purses, and wallets. It was always a surprise to see what one might find in between picking up leftover napkins, drink cups, popcorn bags, and candy wrappers.

After work I liked to stop at home late at night and get something to eat, and usually I had a few bucks to get a meal somewhere—but one night, I was out of cash, and I was getting pretty hungry and so of course was wishing I hadn’t spent my last remaining dollars on gas. But while cleaning out an auditorium all by myself I came across a wallet with an ID inside and wad of cash inside. At first I was elated and tempted to call the cash my own. I felt as though I was very lucky to find it and that fortune had set it in my path for a reason.

But then my better nature kicked in. I had been taught that one should not steal or lie. These were two of the 10 Commandments I had been required to learn as part of my First Communion preparation. These were rules to live by because they came from God, and at the end of our lives we would be judged for everything we did. And I was taught that breaking a commandment was an offense against God—it was like kicking someone who loved you and who gave you everything. So what could I do? I really wanted that money but now I was terribly conflicted, and I thought about my options. The best way to resolve this conflict was to reason it out, I decided.

If I turned in the wallet but kept the money, I would be stealing. And if I took the money and tossed the wallet and pretended I hadn’t found it, I would be lying. I considered momentarily that I could just take a few dollars—enough to get me a meal on the way home and the owner, if he returned for the wallet, might not even notice that a little of the money was gone. After all, since I found it wasn’t I practically entitled to a little reward? But then I thought that, no, this would still be dishonest. It was up to the person to reward me if he felt so inclined. A “reward” wasn’t mine to assume.