A Stupid Mistake

The guy I was interviewing was telling one fib after another and I just got tired of it — that’s my excuse.

Getting lied to usually didn’t bother me, it just meant I was getting warm.  I was an investigative reporter for more than 35 years  and I heard people say plenty of things that were not true.   If you turn the heat up a lot of people will try to protect themselves any way they can — they’ll lie to your face.

Anyway, this guy had gone overboard.  He was taking me for a complete idiot and it finally got to me.   So when he told me he had never been an officer in a corporation I was asking about, and I was sitting there holding a document proving he had been an officer, I couldn’t take it anymore. I handed the paper across the desk to him and I said, “That was a lie you could have kept from telling.”

His lawyer immediately began jumping up and down, figuratively speaking, saying I had called his client a “liar,” which in a way I had.   The lawyer terminated the interview and there was nothing to do but get in my car and drive back to Raleigh.

What I had done was stupid, giving in to my temper. I had handed the lawyer an excuse to cut off series of extremely uncomfortable questions. So stupid.

Claude Sitton
Claude Sitton

It was a three-hour drive back to Raleigh, plenty enough time for him to get in touch with Claude Sitton, the executive editor of The News & Observer, and complain about me.

I parked my car, got on the elevator and rode up to the third floor, to the newsroom.  When the elevator door opened Sitton happened to be standing right there, as if he had been waiting on me, holding a mug of coffee.

I looked at him and he looked at me and then he asked me: “Well, was he lying?”  I said he was.

And that’s all that was said about that.

Coming Monday: The Secret

An Unfair Advantage

When I was a married student at the University of North Carolina at Chapel Hill my wife, Donna, and I lived in Victory Village and I played a lot of Hearts with my neighbors, who were also students.

IMG_3973Hearts is a relatively simple game, child’s play compared to bridge. Even so, to win against good players you have to count cards, you need to know what’s been played, who is void, and how many cards are left in each suit.  You have to  concentrate.

We took turns hosting the game.  Sometimes games didn’t start until after midnight, after everyone had finished their homework. But if we started playing early enough in the evening, the host’s wife would serve a snack, a soft drink and some cookies maybe.

One guy’s wife dressed a little bit funny.

She wore old-timey dresses. Her skirts were long, right to the floor.  Her sleeves were long too, down to her wrists. But her dresses were exceeding low in the front. And when she leaned to refill someone’s drink it was easy to lose your concentration, forget your card count.

I didn’t look, of course.

But I did notice that when we played at their apartment the rest of us didn’t play very well, and he won more often than not.

Coming Friday: A Stupid Mistake