I Know What You Did Last Summer…Because I Googled You

Thanks to the Internet, it's not at all unusual that we know way more information about way more things than we ever have before. Wikipedia is just the beginning; you can wind up learning a hell of a lot of useful -- and useless, but fun! -- info thanks to smart Google searches and links from one site to another. For example, did you know that Jason Priestley and Christine Elise (Brandon Walsh and Emily Valentine from Beverly Hills, 90210) lived together for 6 years and were engaged, and that he has a twin sister in real life too? (Sorry, I'm going through a 90210 thing right now.) The Web is a never-ending, cross-referenced labyrinth, and I, for one, find it very entertaining. Lately, though, I've begun to question my Web-researching practices and whether I am crossing the line.

When I need some downtime at work, one of my favorite diversions is to dredge up a name from the past (such as a kindergarten classmate) and figure out what he or she has done in life. I know that I am not the only one who does this, so don't you go making me feel guilty about it! What I do feel a little guilty about is discovering someone's personal info (not the obvious stuff on MySpace or Facebook), and, when the info comes from a blog, reading the blog regularly. In the past year I have seen and learned some very personal things about people I know now or knew long ago, such as:

-An old classmate will walk an extra distance at work to use a specific bathroom to poop in.
-A coworker is gay, had a commitment ceremony with her domestic partner, and then broke up and just recently got the union legally dissolved. They never took down their ceremony-specific Web site, so I know what they registered for, where the after-party was supposed to be, and the names of many of their relatives. I also found the partner's blog and learned that she was annoyed by my coworker's inability to relax.
-One of my friends is pretty much despised by someone she went to college with and is being made fun of publicly, but I don't think she knows.
-One schoolmate is making a pretty decent salary as a teacher in the NY metro area while another is making about $4/hr at a beach on Long Island.

What really got me thinking about this topic, however, is info that I discovered last week: Someone that I talk to all the time has a very close relative on Death Row. The way the relative got there is truly gruesome. I happened upon this info in a very indirect way and am very sorry now that I did; I don't want to associate it with the person I know, and he would probably be devastated if he knew that I knew. This definitely was not a fun and entertaining find.

So how far is too far? Should we just assume that, in this day and age, anyone can learn anything about us if they try hard enough, and that it's fair game to do so? And do we have the right to claim violation when the skeletons in our closet are revealed if the info is out there anyway? When information is so easily accessible, how do we define ethics?

Dear Doctor

Dear Dr. X:

Today I was supposed to have an appointment with you at 2 pm. I made this appointment a month and a half ago. Yesterday your office called me to tell me that there was a possibility that you would have to cancel for today because your son was sick. I understood completely. I was told to call back today just to make sure. I did. Your office told me that you were in today but that you might be running late and that I should call back in an hour. I did. Your office gave me the all-clear and told me to come on down for my appointment. I did. Let me be more specific. I walked across town to your office. During my lunch break. I walked because unfortunately there is no direct subway or bus line from my office to your office, and taking a cab at lunchtime is neither fast nor cost-effective. Oh, did you happen to notice the weather today? Mid-80's and overcast with 75% humidity. Yeah -- that's why I showed up looking like a sewer rat. Pretty cute, right?

I can't say that I was pleasantly surprised to find your waiting room packed, nor did delight tickle me through and through when the receptionist said that the doctor wouldn't be able to see me for at least an hour. You know how I mentioned "my office" earlier? That was an allusion to a job. That I have. Meaning, I work -- as in, I have responsibilities and people who need me to do things for them. Things that are tied to money. Money that my company relies on. See, when I set up this appointment, I thought we had made some sort of business deal: I acknowledged needing your time and expertise, and you said that you would give that to me. We "shook on it" over the phone via your office staff -- twice! Today! I consider you in breach of contract.

These days, when a patient doesn't show for a doctor's appointment, said patient is often charged a cancellation fee -- sometimes a pretty hefty one. Interesting how there's no cancellation fee given to the patient when the doctor can't fulfill the obligation.

Best,
GalWednesday