Reflecting on Ethical Boundaries: A Humorous Heartwarming Experience in Mentorship

In the professional world, the topic of ethics often raises eyebrows and ignites discussions. As an illumination of the gray area of moral dilemmas we sometimes navigate, I’d like to share a light-hearted yet revealing anecdote from my experience as a mentor for a Junior Achievement team.

During my tenure as an associate, a group of us chose to volunteer our time and expertise to guide a high school Junior Achievement initiative. The goal was straightforward: the students were tasked with creating and managing a small business concept within a two-to-three-month framework. Our team settled on an idea that featured selling fruit baskets, which excited everyone and seemed like a promising venture.

However, as we dove into planning, we quickly hit a snag. Junior Achievement enforced a set of guiding principles designed to protect the organization, the most notable being the prohibition of any debt. At first glance, this was a sensible policy, but in practice, it imposed significant restrictions that felt almost unrealistic. We faced the conundrum of how to procure items for our fruit baskets without incurring any liabilities, and the answer was elusive. Without capital upfront, how were we to operate?

Determined not to let this policy stifle our ambitions, we turned to an unconventional solution: prepayment. We asked customers to pay in advance for their fruit baskets, thus allowing us to generate the funds necessary to purchase our items. On the surface, this business model appeared to function seamlessly, enabling our students to engage with the entrepreneurial process.

However, a humorous ethical quandary surfaced when it came time to submit weekly financial reports to Junior Achievement’s regional office for oversight. If we accurately recorded our cash collections and deferred revenue, the organization would likely have had a strong reaction. Yet, in order to keep track of customers who had paid us and those awaiting their deliveries, we found ourselves in a curious situation: we kept two sets of financial records.

Unbeknownst to us, the students we were mentoring were in on the secret. We had our “real” version of the books, capturing the true nature of our transactions, while the second set was meticulously curated to ensure compliance with the Junior Achievement rules—essentially crafted for external review.

After several weeks of operating this dual system, it dawned on us: “We are essentially maintaining two sets of books.” Despite this revelation, we decided to continue our approach. The project was nearing