Tom Keane

I Am the Boss of You

So that means you better have safe sex, eat right, and pray weekly (because the 21st-century CEO is watching).

For a long time, I’ve had this fantasy about being a dictator, running everyone’s lives, telling them what they can and cannot do. To get there, though, I figured I’d have to seize control of some tiny Third World country. Turns out, I was wrong. All I need do is become a CEO.

My model is The Scotts Co., whose fertilizer keeps suburban lawns across America green and weed-free. Last year, Scotts fired Bourne employee Scott Rodrigues for smoking – at home, not on the job – leading Rodrigues to sue his former employer. Scotts prohibits any employees from smoking, ever. The company says it cares about their health, which, I think, is the way any benevolent dictator should feel. Still, why stop at smoking?

Take HIV, which is at least as dangerous as smoking. If I ran Scotts, I’d impose a rule requiring all of my employees to have protected sex. I realize that enforcing this rule might be a problem. With smoking, I can figure out if my employees are puffing away by checking their urine. The protected sex thing would be more difficult. It would probably require private investigators or video cameras in my employees’ bedrooms. I suppose some would object, thinking this an invasion of privacy. But really, didn’t we already cross that line when we started watching our employees pee in cups? And besides, it’s for their own good. As CEO, I really care about my employees’ health. Any worries about privacy are easily trumped by the prospects of disease, death, and, needless to say, my rising health insurance premiums.

Naturally, I’d also require my employees to eat right and exercise regularly. But, now that I think about it, there’s more to health than just the condition of our bodies. How about my employees’ mental, moral, and spiritual health? Shouldn’t I care about those as well?

Certainly. That’s why when I’m CEO of Scotts, I’ll require all of my employees to be married. Married people are more stable members of the community. They’re happier, apt to live longer, and won’t be out all night on the prowl.

And when my employees have children, I’m going to make them read to the kids at least an hour a night. I also want the kids taken to church, mosque, or synagogue each week. You see, I care.

In addition, my employees will have to live within a 10-minute drive of the office. I don’t want them wasting time and gas on long trips back and forth from home. Unreasonable, you say? Hardly. Boston requires most city employees to live in the city. If the government can tell its workers where to make their homes, why can’t I?

Here are a few other rules for my employees: If you don’t vote on Election Day or cheer on the Red Sox, you’re fired – I’m a big supporter of democracy and the hometown team. If you start cheating on your spouse, you’re fired, too. I cherish family values. And while I encourage you to get involved in your community, don’t become a loudmouth or speak ill of the president. And, most especially, don’t start protesting against chemical pollutants – that’s our business, after all.

You’re probably wondering, what about the First Amendment and freedom of speech? Read it: “Congress shall make no law. . . .” Congress, not companies. I’m exempt from the Constitution. In any event, no one is compelled to work for me. If you don’t want to live the way I think you should live, well, then, don’t work for me. Of course, when my fellow CEOs start doing the same things as me, it may mean you won’t be able to find a job at all. Too bad. We don’t owe you a living.

Sure, labor activists might push the state to ban employers like me from running our employees’ lives. But I doubt that would happen. Unions have collapsed – today only 8 percent of nongovernmental workers are unionized, meaning they’re pushovers. For too long the workers have been in control. No more. The CEOs are ascendant. It’s our turn to rule the world.

Originally published in the Boston Sunday Globe Magazine, January 28, 2007. Illustration by Mark Matcho. © Copyright 2007 Globe Newspaper Company.

Breeding Bad Guys

How much are we to blame for mobsters like ''The Big Cheese''?

It's a cold night, and I stand by the side of the road, shivering and watching. A car pulls over, and a window rolls down. "Let's see the money," a voice demands.

I pull out a wad of bills, and the driver takes it. After a moment, he hands me the goods. "My God," I say, "they're still warm." I reach inside the bag and remove a small handful, shoving it into my mouth. There's a quick rush of heat, salt, and an unctuous blend of crispiness and oil. "Ahhh," I moan, barely able to control myself.

Suddenly there's a flash of lights. There are sirens and rushing bodies, and I'm thrown to the ground, my arms twisted behind my back, cold steel laced around my wrists. "You're under arrest," a voice screams in my ear. "Just couldn't keep away from those trans-fatty fries, could you? Well, this time, buddy, you're gonna pay."

OK, so this is a stretch. Lovers of french fries cooked in trans fats aren't behind bars – yet. But substitute drugs, prostitution, or gambling (and soon, smoking, don't you think?), and you wouldn't be far off . Thus, an observation: We make our own criminals. That's not to excuse the mob boss who is out breaking legs or worse. But that mob boss wouldn't be a mob boss but for the fact that we have made illicit some products and services that many, many people nevertheless want to buy.

There is – to offer a counter example – no radicchio underground. You won't find capos, smuggling, and midnight hits among the traders in radicchio. You won't find the police staking out open-air radicchio markets, nor will you find the radicchio kingpins shot in radicchio gang wars as they dine at the local Souper Salad. And why not? It comes down to one thing: Radicchio is legal. The other stuff is not.

Last month, Carmen DiNunzio, known in the North End as "The Big Cheese" – a triple pun on his front (a cheese shop), status (kingpin), and size (really big) – was arrested by State Police on illegal gambling and extortion charges. And here I write the obligatory words "Thank God," because, after all, he was allegedly a bad man doing bad things that included competing with the Mass. Lottery. Hmmm. Think of the hypocrisy here. Tim the Treasurer tells us, "You have to play," and convenience stores across the state merrily ring up sales. But when someone else offers better odds and better games, it's a crime.

And it isn't only that we have made many kinds of gaming, certain drugs, and prostitution crimes, it's also that those crimes breed other crimes. If I sell you some radicchio, and you refuse to pay me, ultimately I go to court to uphold our agreement. But substitute drugs, and the courts are clearly not going to recognize our contract. Instead, it's up to the enforcer. The result: People get injured or killed. And the effect is significant: By criminalizing all of these things, we – not surprisingly – end up with a lot of criminals. Illegal drugs alone, for instance, account for 2 million of the 7 million Americans who are in jail or prison, on probation, or on parole, according to an analysis of official data by the Sentencing Project, a research and prisoner advocacy group. In a very real sense, the things we have banned are what now make our streets so dangerous.

Indeed, if one day we decided to make radicchio illegal, we would doubtless begin to see front-page stories about "The Big Lettucehead." So what would happen if, instead of criminalizing behaviors that are, essentially, matters of personal choice (as misguided as they might be), we just made them legal? Almost certainly, crime would drop. Former crooks might even turn to legitimate trades. And those once-banned activities could then be licensed, taxed, and regulated in the same way we handle other everyday activities. That's what happened when we got rid of Prohibition – proprietors of speakeasies became respectable barkeeps. Indeed, one alleged bootlegger even went on to become the father of a US president. Who knows? If all gambling were legal, instead of cutting customers in on the action, Carmen DiNunzio might still be on Endicott Street, just cutting cheese.

Originally published in the Boston Sunday Globe Magazine, January 7, 2007. Illustration by Serge Bloch.© Copyright 2007 Globe Newspaper Company.