We must think positive, we must be team players, we must compromise, we must not let the great be the enemy of the good. But as e.e. cummings' Olaf (upon what were once knees) used to ceaselessly repeat, "there is some shit I will not eat."

Ad man Albert Jay Rosenthal died last week in Chicago and the Sun-Times obit said he believed his greatest accomplishment wasn't the clients he served but the one he turned down.

"If something was legal and profitable, most advertisers would take it," said his son Michael in the obit. "But he turned down Richard Nixon's Illinois advertising campaign [for president in 1968]. He turned down Remington Arms. He had a connection with a big tobacco company, and he said he didn't want it. ... My father was a liberal."

You don't have to be liberal to take a stand. I'm trying to think of stands I've taken, and the most concrete one I can remember seems like such a moral no-brainer now that I hesitate to offer it.

I was doing a focus group, on behalf of Ragan Consulting, for a local utility company. Out at a nuclear power plant near Moline, Ill. I was sitting in a big room with an unwieldy group of about 25 rough-looking fellows who quietly seemed to regard me, as I took attendance with quavering voice, as a bit of a novelty. (And in this case, by "novelty," I mean "gay city slicker.")

Just as I got through with the roll call, cleared my throat and began the session a man walked through the door and made his glowering way toward a seat in the back of the room. A hush fell upon the hush.

"Excuse me, sir," I said unsurely. "I think everyone is accounted for here. Are you on this list?"

"No. I'm the supervisor. Go ahead, it's fine."

I explained that employee focus groups must be held with only one organizational strata at a time, so workers will feels safe to share the truth.

He sat, unmoved, with his arms crossed.

"I said it's fine. Go ahead!"

There was a moment. When I actually considered. Going ahead. Because the boss said it was fine.

"I'm sorry, sir. I can't go forward with this focus group with you in the room," I said, preparing myself to bask in his glare, to soak in the silence for the whole 60 minutes.

He abruptly got up and stalked out of the room. The split second the door closed behind him the room erupted, Capra-like, in applause and cheers.

Well, my boys were pretty open with me after that .....

It doesn't feel so dramatic when identify a strain of shit you will not eat. Nor does it always seem heroic in hindsight. But it does make a good yarn—and just the kind of yarn that your kid might share in your obit one day.

You got one?