Those Guys Have All the Fun - James Andrew Miller [381]
What may have sounded like libidinous innuendo to the assistant was in most cases just innocent chitchat. Still, there were enough personal exchanges in the e-mails to make it obvious that Lacey and Berson were involved.
By the time management confronted Lacey and Berson with questions, the two had actually broken off the affair; they admitted it had happened and declared their intention to remain friends. Fine, said management, telling them to keep two directives in mind: first, if the relationship should rekindle in the future, they needed to disclose it to management; and second, they should take care not to use company e-mail for personal missives. When, sure enough, Lacey and a now separated Berson found themselves drawn together romantically six months later, they kept the guidelines in mind and dutifully divulged to management that they were at it again. Management’s reaction was revealing: executives told the pair to go public with the relationship right away so there would be less gossip than if it became public down the line.
It’s important to note at this point that even though management clearly had proof of an affair, including the couple’s confession, neither Berson nor Lacey was reprimanded in any way. Indeed, on October 29, 2009, the New York Post updated the story. Lacey’s and Berson’s respective bosses, Sean Bratches and John Skipper, issued a joint statement: “Katie Lacey and David Berson are employees in good standing and valued colleagues. Any issues raised… were addressed, and we consider the matter closed.”
Consequently, neither Berson nor Lacey had reason to believe that a revived relationship would negatively affect their thriving careers at ESPN.
The night before the Phillips scandal broke, Berson and Lacey found themselves sitting at the same table, though not next to each other, at a cable-awards dinner. ESPN’s head of human resources was overheard playfully chiding them for not sitting together and even said—jokingly or not—that he hoped somewhere down the road they’d name their first child after him.
And then, blooey.
Deadspin editors, furious with ESPN’s PR department for having denied the Phillips affair to them, played up the Lacey-Berson story with a vengeance. Rumors flew wildly, among them allegations that Lacey and Berson had been suspended the year before because of their relationship and that both had falsified travel expense reports and used corporate funds for personal encounters. None of the charges were true, but it didn’t seem to matter.
On a cold November 20th, Lacey and Berson were summoned into their bosses’ offices, where they were told that their contracts would not be renewed and that their ESPN careers were over, immediately. They were to vacate their offices that day and not return to the campus.
What had happened? Why were Lacey and Berson shown the door when management was already on the record as supporting their relationship? Besides, many in the company knew that others had engaged in similar activities. It looked as though honesty was now the worst policy.
No answer made sense. Berson and Lacey wound up being collateral damage, serving as requisite sacrificial lambs. Throughout the company, employees who had engaged in similar activities—and worse—held their breath and awaited additional firings and suspensions. It was no longer possible to be too paranoid.
But those additional firings and suspensions? They never came. The most a senior executive would say was that examples from the past were just that: history. No other punishments were deemed necessary. Somehow Berson and Lacey slipped in under the wire—and were left hanging from it.
STEVE BERTHIAUME:
This place