Truth and Honesty

About a week later, we received a voice mail from our original Cincinnati salesperson, Lady Highbrow. She wanted to make sure we had made it in to place our order—as the “cutting it too close” time was upon us—and to wish us continued luck in the planning of our wedding.

I thought that seemed nice of her and left her a return message a couple days later, stating that we had been in and had placed the order with another associate. I thanked her for all her help and thought that was the end.

A few days later, I received a call from her again. First, she thanked me for the return call and was glad everything was going well for us (well sort of going well, as you are learning). She probably offered a couple other niceties, and then it was time for business.

“Did you ask for me when you came in? I’m asking, because I was there. So I’m just curious if you asked for me. We are working on a truth and honesty policy at work,” she said.

I replied, “We said we had been helped by you, although we didn’t have your card and didn’t remember your name at the moment. We described you and the woman helping us said your name, and we said ‘that’s her.’ She said you were at lunch at the moment.”

“So you didn’t ask for me by name?” she asked in follow-up.

“Well, we didn’t ask literally, but we determined who you were and that you were at lunch. We then told her that we needed to place an order for the wedding bands we had picked out, and if she could help us do that, that would be great.”

She interjected comments along the lines of: “Sorry, this is unusual to ask these questions.”

But she really wanted to know whether we had asked for her by name, as that was apparently the key criterion in the potential violation of the truth and honesty policy. It seemed she never quite got the exact phrasing from us that could make her case ironclad.

As I reflect, I still debate whose behavior was more unsavory. The one who pretended a coworker was at lunch and stole an extremely easy sale—or the one who called the customer at home to try and make a case against her mischievous coworker. In a moment of self-centered greed, I’ve secretly stolen a French fry from Christa’s value meal, but this was a whole new level. Yes, the pretty blue box had lost a little luster, but I am still available for endorsement deals.
- Drew Lloyd
From "Will You?" to "I Do.": A Groom's Tale of Survival