Fail Up

by Tavis Smiley

  At least my unintentional movie critique didn’t have the potential of setting off a major world war as did the words of former President Ronald Reagan:

  “My fellow Americans, I am pleased to tell you I just signed legislation which outlaws Russia forever. The bombing begins in five minutes,” the “Great Communicator” joked during a pre-speech mike check that actually went live.

  The microphone mishaps of notables (mine included) begin to pale in comparison to today’s social-media-dominated society. Today, there is no “off the record.” The mike is always on. Somebody’s always watching, listening, and recording. Unintentional or careless remarks can seriously compromise or derail your future. Increasingly, today’s breaking news stories involve somebody’s digital camcorder or cell-phone camera.

  Ken Strutin, director of legal information services at the New York State Defenders Association, writes: “Embarrassing Facebook photos and regrettable MySpace statements are starting to become commonplace in presentencing reports and disposition hearings.”

  Although Strutin argues that social media can also help defense attorneys win cases, the opposite effect, I maintain, applies more often.

  Consider the 2007 case of student Matthew Pacelli, a 16-yearold who was arrested after posting a YouTube video of himself asking people to murder his math teacher at his Staten Island, New York, school. To add more stupid to stupid, the high school student even gave out his teacher’s name and home address.

  If not for video captured by mobile phones, it’s doubtful that Johannes Mehserle, a white Bay Area Rapid Transit (BART) police officer, would have been convicted of manslaughter. Bystander cell-phone videos of the fatal shooting of Oscar J. Grant III, an unarmed Black man lying face down on a train platform, were used to convict Mehserle.

  Going to jail is an extreme outcome. The loss of dignity, friendships, jobs, and careers are the more common results.

  While writing this chapter, I read a CBS MoneyWatch.com article emphasizing the toxic mix of social media and resulting job loss. One example cited was that of a South Carolina cop who lost his job after photos landed on Facebook of “heavily-tattooed, bikini-clad women … slithering across the hood” of his police car. Another example: Kevin Colvin, an intern at Anglo Irish Bank’s North American arm, skipped work, telling his boss he had to take care of a family emergency. Unfortunately, Colvin’s boss happened to catch Facebook photos of his soon-to-be ex-employee at a Halloween Party—drunk and dressed in a Tinker Bell outfit. Colvin’s story was reported on Gawker.com and referred to as the “Colvin Caution.”

  The Social Media Minefield

  As the CBS MoneyWatch.com report warned, “Social media can be a minefield for the serious professional.” However, it’s not just the fact that technology makes it easy to catch us doing stupid or inappropriate things. These days, so many people—adults and children with no clue how it will eternally haunt their lives or professional careers—are willingly engaging in activities that may very likely go viral.

  Let’s start with the adults.

  Captain Owen Honors, the commanding officer of the aircraft carrier Enterprise, was permanently relieved of his duties in January 2009 for “movie night” infractions. Honors produced and starred in lewd and objectionable videos he shared with more than 5,000 crew members and pilots aboard the Enterprise. The videos became public after the Virginian-Pilot newspaper in Norfolk posted excerpts on its Website.

  According to news reports, the videos included evocative scenes of simulated masturbation, mock rectal exams, antigay slurs and demeaning satire and simulated bestiality.

  “His profound lack of good judgment and professionalism while previously serving as executive officer on the Enterprise calls into question his character and completely undermines his credibility to continue to serve effectively in command,” Admiral John Harvey, head of the Navy’s Fleet Forces Command, told reporters.

  Lack of “good judgment” aside, Honor’s videos may have never been a news item and a blow to his career had Congress not recently repealed the “Don’t Ask, Don’t Tell” ban, which didn’t allow homosexuals to serve openly in the military.

  Honors probably had no clue his cinematic contributions would go viral. But because of carelessness, the captain of a nuclear-powered carrier who, according to his commanders, performed “without incident,” has been reassigned to administrative duties.

  It’s important to note that Honors and the senior officers who knew of the videos and attended movie night with other crew members weren’t pie-eyed kids. They were all adults acting irresponsibly.

  “This is the sort of thing you’d expect from a 19-year-old recruit, but you’re dealing here with a 49-year-old senior officer,” another Navy spokesman told reporters.

  Now, onto the real children.

  Back in the day, it was wrong but certainly not uncommon for young folks to go to parties, drink alcohol, abuse drugs, and engage in sexual activity. These days, the young folks are younger, the drinking and drugging are heavier, and the sex is even more casual. According to a 2005 study by the Centers for Disease Control and Prevention, more than half of all teens 15 to 19 years old have engaged in oral sex.

  Canadian filmmaker Sharlene Azam spent four years researching the clandestine and highly sexual lives of today’s teens for her documentary, Oral Sex Is the New Goodnight Kiss. In an interview with ABC’s Good Morning America, Azam said: “Oral sex is as common as kissing for teens and that casual prostitution—being paid at parties to strip, give sexual favors, or have sex—is far more commonplace than once believed.”

  I guess I can’t close this section by telling children to act like adults, since we’re all engaging in activities that seem to wind up more and more on the Internet. So all I can say is: If it’s not something you can live with anybody—and these days, everybody—seeing, think again.

  Turn It Off, For Goodness’ Sake

  No matter how we shuffle the communications cards, the indisputable fact is that we are all under surveillance. And I’m not just talking about “Big Brother” or sophisticated recording devices in the sky. I’m referring to the immediate and frequently irreversible repercussions of technology in the hands of the average Joe or Jane on the street.

  My failure those many years ago to recognize the fine line between public and private speech underscores why all of us—public figures, politicians, preachers, and everyday folk—are required to be more circumspect and exercise far more discernment in the Information Age. If we dare to ignore the personal and professional repercussions involved when unintentional or careless remarks go public, we set ourselves up for far more than Facebook boomerangs. Just ask the diplomatic professionals who have been outed in the WikiLeaks revelations. These unintended disclosures underscore the invisible line that exists between public and private speech.

  I’m sure former Detroit Mayor Kwame Kilpatrick had no idea that the 14,000 text messages exchanged between him and his chief of staff, Christine Beatty, would end his career. Not only did the text messages out his affair with Beatty, they also served as the foundation for a lawsuit that resulted in an $8.4 million settlement by the City of Detroit. In December 2010, federal prosecutors issued even more charges against Kilpatrick. If convicted of the new charges, which include extortion, bribery, racketeering, and filing false tax returns, Kilpatrick could spend decades in jail.

  In today’s rapid-fire communications arenas, we not only have got to find ways to turn the volume way down; sometimes it must simply be turned off if we are to avoid having our lives or careers destroyed by a private moment made public or a public moment gone viral through broadcast or posting over a social media site.

  Be aware. Be very, very aware. Even if TMZ doesn’t follow you around! Be ever vigilant about what you do and what you say in the presence of friends, family, colleagues, or unknowns armed with seemingly harmless recording devices. What you may consider personal opinions or private actions can become public indictments that haunt you f
orever.

  My ordeal with Townsend came before the social media revolution. But it helped me realize the importance of the Three D’s—Discernment, Discrimination, and “Do Unto Others … ”

  Social media as a permanent tracker of your deeds and misdeeds can make the stepping-stones to success that much more slippery. Be it public or private, at home or at play; for your own sake, remember: You’re always on.

  CHAPTER 5

  ARRESTED

  DEVELOPMENT

  My freshman year at Indiana University marked my foray into the grown-up world. After arriving at the Bloomington campus in the fall of 1982, without my parents’ help or permission and no more than $50 in my pocket, it was clear that I had to fend for myself. By the grace of God and the intervention of a few benevolent souls, I managed to get enrolled, find financial aid at the last minute, get assigned to a dorm, and secure a work-study job.

  For the first time in my young life, I was in charge of my life. I decided my schedule, my activities, and my food choices, which consisted of lots and lots of pizza. In fact, it was my reliance on the iconic food of Italy and a stupid mistake with my money that really jettisoned me into the grown-up world. Unfortunately, it was an unnerving part of that world that I was ill prepared to enter.

  Fortunately, the experience anchored my resolve to never, ever let it happen again. It also opened my eyes to the harsh realities of financial ignorance and helped mold an outreach mission that I still passionately advance in some form or fashion to this very day.

  Candy to a Baby

  It’s no secret that financial institutions target college students. These days (oftentimes with the educational institutions providing access), banks throw credit cards at students with clean credit histories. And, as we know, inexperienced, struggling students often get into long-term financial debt because of access to these cards.

  According to a 2009 national study conducted by Sallie Mae, the nation’s leading saving-and-paying-for-college research company, nearly one-third (30 percent) of college students put their tuition on credit cards; 92 percent of undergraduate students use their cards to charge textbooks, school supplies, and other “direct expenses.” The higher the grade level, the more heavily students depend on credit cards. The average freshman carries a median debt of $939—nearly triple the $373 documented by Sallie Mae in 2004. Many college students, the study concluded, use credit cards and pay obscene interest rates, not just for convenience, but also “to live beyond their means.” So it’s not bad enough that students today graduate with massive debt for their education; they also graduate with massive credit card debt and are unable to find a job to boot.

  It wasn’t the credit card trap that ensnared this wide-eyed transplant to Bloomington; I was hooked by a checking account offered to newly arriving students by a local Bloomington bank.

  I was much too young and ill prepared for such a serious responsibility. I came from a poor family and, like so many others from my background, my parents never talked about money matters beyond basic survival. I knew absolutely nothing about handling money responsibly, and the issuing bank wasn’t exactly offering training sessions on balancing checkbooks or using credit cards properly.

  My checking account became my credit card. It sounds really sophomoric now, but if I needed something and didn’t have the money, I’d write a check. Sure, I’d deposit money into my account on a regular basis, but I knew if I fell short, I’d simply have to pay $15 for any bounced checks.

  Don’t get me wrong. I didn’t write checks for clothes, fancy shoes, music, or even textbooks. My extravagance was pizza—one local pizzeria, in fact: a place called Pizza King. I can still see myself writing those $7.14 checks for a large savory sausage and pepperoni pizza.

  My naïve rationale went something like this: “The bank will cover me. Sure, I may not have $15 to waste tomorrow, but I’m hungry today.” It reminds me of Wimpy in the Popeye cartoon series: “I will gladly pay you Tuesday for a hamburger today!”

  If I had paid more attention to the bank’s notices informing me that I was seriously in arrears, perhaps I could have avoided the embarrassing outcome.

  Check-Kiter

  My suspicions should have gone on high alert when I came home from school one day and my roommate, Chi, told me that “Mark, an old high school friend of mine,” had stopped by our off-campus apartment for a visit.

  “Mark?” Neither the name nor the description—tall, white, heavyset with glasses—jogged any memories.

  Not to worry, Chi assured me. Mark asked him what time I’d be home and said he’d drop back by around the time Chi had indicated.

  A half hour or so after I got home, there was a knock at the door. I was greeted by a stranger who asked with a smile and friendly tone: “Tavis … Tavis Smiley?”

  “Yeah, that’s me,” I answer, still not recognizing my supposed high school friend.

  BAM! Handcuffs are out; demeanor has changed; and a new, unfriendly voice barks:

  “You’re under arrest. You have the right to remain silent … yada, yada, yada.”

  “Un- un- under arrest,” I stammered, “for what?”

  “Check-kiting.”

  “Kiting? I haven’t flown any kites. What’s check-kiting?”

  “Writing bad checks,” the mysterious Mark responds.

  I was totally baffled. It never crossed my mind that I could be arrested for writing checks. I was paying my little $15 fees: I thought I had the process down pat.

  Turns out, at the time, the local sheriff’s department had launched a check-kiting sting. A whole lot of folks in Bloomington, including students, were arrested that day.

  Of course, I didn’t know all that. As I was trotted out in front of my neighbors, I felt like Quasimodo, the deformed bell-ringer of Notre Dame.

  Instantly, I panicked: “Chi, you gotta get me out of jail!” I shouted. Once I was tucked into the backseat of the patrol car, I started asphyxiating, struggling so hard to breathe that the police officer pitied me: “Calm down,” he said, “it’s not that serious.”

  It was to a kid raised in a strict Pentecostal environment and taught to respect the laws of God and man. It was a very big deal to a college student who had never in his young life had any interaction with the police or jails.

  The whole ordeal—driven to the police station in handcuffs, taking mug shots, sweating in the holding cell until Chi arrived with bail money—took about 40 minutes.

  Eventually, I paid the fine and was ordered to do so many hours of community service work—cleaning streets, picking up trash, working on a highway road crew—that sort of thing. Because of the service work, the incident was expunged from my records.

  Still, that 40-minute initiation into the price of financial illiteracy changed my life forever.

  Reformation Man

  Three very important personal commitments came out of that arresting experience.

  First, unless it was associated with a social issue like protesting against apartheid or unfair immigration policies, I swore that I’d never be arrested again for anything illegal, unethical, or immoral. Second, I vowed to never let money or the lack thereof ever get me into trouble again. Lastly, I decided then and there to help my brothers and sisters avoid falling into any money traps that plague so many people of our hue and circumstance.

  For starters, I had to learn how to manage my own money, whatever little bit I had. I learned the meaning of the word “budget”—calculating what comes in and what goes out. Back then, even as a college student, I decided not to live beyond my means. And for the rest of my life, that rule dictated. If I couldn’t afford it, I didn’t have it.

  Since I couldn’t afford a brand-new car, I drove “buckets” all my life. The only new car I’ve ever owned was given to me on my 40th birthday, about seven years ago, as a gift from a sponsor. The furniture in my LA apartment, before I bought my house, was hand-me-down stuff from friends. If they wanted to throw it out, I’d take it in—and this was
after I started working for BET.

  Of course, I never got rich at BET, but the first thing I did when I started receiving those more handsome paychecks was pay off debt—which was considerable at the time. Although I kept my commitment not to live beyond my personal means in college, I had to make an exception for my family. When I worked for Mayor Bradley, my credit had gotten really crazy due to the fact that, between the years 1987 and 1996, I fell seriously behind on my student loan payments, mostly because I had spent thousands on my siblings’ college educations.

  There were nine brothers and sisters coming behind me after I went to work for the mayor, and most of them wanted to go to college. My parents were going through a divorce at the time, so I became like a surrogate father. I didn’t make a whole lot of money, but, as a single guy with no children, I made enough to help out.

  I was determined to get my siblings through school. I made a deal with them: As long as they held better than a Cplus average—I refused to pay for average—I would make sure all their school bills were paid.

  It was important to me that they contributed something to their education. So, every summer I had my brothers, at least four at a time, come out to California and stay in my little one-bedroom apartment. I arranged for each to have a part-time summer job. Every morning, I’d drive them to work, and they’d catch the bus back home at night. They were allowed a little “get-around” money, but the rest I put into a bank account and applied it toward their education. Whatever was left to pay, I handled from my own funds.

  I am proud to say that they made it, graduating from institutions like Hampton, Morehouse, and my alma mater, Indiana University. As I robbed Peter to pay Paul, I relied on a single prayer: “Lord, if you just help me get these Negroes through school, the first thing I’ll do when I make it is pay off all of my debt.”