Tuesday with Another Voice

Today's voice belongs to
Contributing Editor
Ken Marks

A human-interest story

I want to share a human-interest story with you. It's not the kind you'll see in the last three minutes of the evening news. Not "Man Awakes From 10-Year Coma" or "Teenager Buys 4th House" or "Dachau Survivors Reunited." No, it's the kind you never see—one that disturbs rather than inspires. Yet I think there's some healthful food for thought in it.


Seven years ago, an investment analyst named Jason Selch learned that a friend had been fired for refusing a lower salary. Their firm was merging with a subsidiary of Bank of America, and the salary cut was no doubt one of those common adjustments that occur when two firms become one. Selch was furious and marched into a conference room where executives from the firms were meeting. Before venting his displeasure, he asked whether he had ever signed a "non-compete" agreement; that is, an agreement that would bar him from accepting employment with another firm for a specified period. He was told no, such an agreement was not in effect. Selch then dropped his pants, mooned the executives, and left.
    When his boss recovered from this shock, he did not fire Selch! Incredibly, he let him off with a written warning: he must never do anything so outrageous again. Unfortunately for Selch, his boss's boss, an executive at Bank of America, wouldn't hear of it. He insisted that Selch be fired, and so he was. Worse yet, Selch was due to receive "contingency payments"—a kind of bonus—of $2 million in just a few months, and that was forfeited.
    Was Selch squelched? Not at all; he sued all the firms involved. His suit was based on two claims: first, the warning he received was actually a contract that had been breached; and second, nothing was lacking in his work performance, so the termination was unjust. A circuit court ruled against Selch, he appealed, and last month an appellate court upheld the ruling. A three-judge panel declared that the warning, though in writing, made no promises and was therefore not a contract. It further stated that the mooning was "insubordinate, disruptive, unruly, and abusive." Selch was officially toast.

There's a good deal to chew on here. Consider:

• Selch's sense of entitlement was breath-taking. He interrupted a meeting that he wasn't even a party to. Did he do it for his friend? Not likely, because he wasn't planning to plead a case. His intention was to make a gesture on behalf of the brotherhood—The Brotherhood Of The Entitled Few.
• The only thing that might have restrained Selch was a non-compete agreement. (The prospect of a fat bonus no doubt slipped his mind completely.) He was ready to be fired but not ready to forgo income for an extended time. He believed he was in demand and could quickly settle in elsewhere at no loss or perhaps a gain. So mooning seemed a no-risk option.
• Selch was so determined to win damages in lieu of the forfeited bonus that he hired a lawyer to pursue an absurd case, all the way to an appeals court! He was adamant that the bonus was his—he had earned it, and his insulting behavior was beside the point.

So I have to ask, Who is this person? He's not like me or anyone I know. Clearly he lives in a privileged bubble where money and favors are heaped on him and where the scope of permissible behavior greatly exceeds almost anyone else's. I have to wonder whether years in this bubble might have actually changed his brain chemistry. In fact, I'd willingly contribute tax dollars to a study of Selch and his colleagues to learn more about their perceptions of themselves and the rest of humanity. If this idea seems bizarre to you, let me remind you of what such people do for a living: they manage huge sums of money in an economically interdependent world. Wouldn't it be a comfort to know they had a semblance of impulse control and an awareness of the harm they can do?
    Most people agree that before dealers sell a gun, they should query databases to see if the would-be buyer has a criminal or psychiatric record. It could save lives. Likewise, we agree that before people put on a police uniform, they should undergo psychological screening for evidence of frequent anger or violent behavior. It could save lives. I don't know that the financial industry has killed anyone lately, not counting the occasional suicide of someone made destitute. But in the past four years it has given us an avalanche of foreclosed homes, lost savings, broken marriages, days spent panhandling, nights spent in shelters, shattered self-respect, and children with maimed futures. And that's just for starters. Not much is needed to give us some protection. Only what I'd like to call "a saliva test for arrogance."
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Copyright © 2012 by Ken Marks