Q: I have a fledgling photography business, mostly shooting models. I am a full-time wheelchair user. When I mention that in e-mail messages when booking a shoot, I get a lot of cancellations — a model suddenly remembers a prior engagement — or just out-and-out no-shows. Is it ethical not to say up front that I have a disability? — Jack Heniford, York, S.C.
A: You have the same ethical duty to alert people that you are a wheelchair user that you have to warn them that you are African-American or gay or a fan of light jazz: none. (Well, maybe the last one, if you intend to play that carbonated treacle during photo sessions.) If people find these things off-putting, that’s their problem, not a prejudice you must cater to. Being a wheelchair user is not germane to the task at hand.
Q: At the high school where I teach, we’re getting new math books. What do you do with the kids who lost their old books? When students receive a book, they sign a form agreeing to pay for it if they do not return it, but should they be fined for losing a book that will never be used again? — B.J., Seattle
A: This penalty has several legitimate functions beyond replacing a lost book. It helps teach students to be responsible for public property lent to them, and it provides money for other materials. The intent of this policy may have been only to replace a textbook, but the rule still serves a benign, albeit different, purpose and can reasonably be enforced.Update: Students who did not return their books were required to pay the fine, $35.
Q: My family and I arrived at Disney World to find a crowd awaiting entry. I mentioned that it was a shame one of the signature rides was down for maintenance. It was functioning, but those around me overheard and began to repeat it. When the park opened, my son and I made a beeline for the ride and were able to enjoy it twice without a wait. Was my comment unethical? — Philip Junker, Little Rock, Ark.
A: If you had genuinely believed that the ride was out of order, your rumor-mongering would have been inept but not unethical. But to deliberately deceive everyone within earshot for your own advantage is, as I suspect you know, discreditable. In ethics, intent counts. Given the order of events, you’re merely a liar. And a cheat. A cheatin’ liar. A lyin’ cheater. Either way, a fine title for a country-western song.
Send questions and comments for Randy Cohen to Universal Press Syndicate, 4520 Main St., Kansas City, MO 64111, or ethicist@nytimes.com.
