Like other crucial issues facing the world, I have conducted my own unscientific random poll over the past two weeks on Brian Willams and what should happen to him.  Last week, we introduced the topic in this column.  This week, we’ll add some details from our poll, and comment on what it means about how we consume media, pay attention to the news (or not), and the generational changes in how we follow and perceive public issues.  Let’s go.

Encountering people the past two weeks, I would frequently ask the question:  “Pretend you are the head of NBC News.  You have to decide what to do with Brian Williams.  What is your decision?”

Oddly, many people had trouble wrapping their hands around the question.  They meandered, talking about what they thought happened, but they wouldn’t make a decision until I stopped them and refocused their attention:  “You have to make a decision about what to do with him.  Pretend you are the NBC Chief and have all-encompassing power for the station.  What are you going to do?”

This brought most people back to earth.  The answers fell into three camps:  1) Fire him. 2) Give him some form of long suspension, with the opportunity to return, depending on circumstances.  3) Apply a small slap on the wrist, but let him continue after a short penalty (a fine and/or time-off without pay).  Note that answers 2 and 3 are very similar and differ based on severity of the penalty (in direct relation to how much the respondent “liked” Williams; the more they liked him, the shorter and less severe was the penalty – big surprise there).

Twenty-seven people responded to my random question.  Nine said “fire him” immediately (33% of respondents).  Six didn’t know who Brian Williams was (22%).  Four wanted strong penalties imposed (15%).  Eight wanted lesser penalties imposed, and typically stated before responding, “I really like him” (30%).  Percentage numbers are rounded.  My intuition says these numbers reflect reality in the U.S.

Here are some additional incisive findings:  Of those who didn’t know who Brian Williams was, all except one were under the age of 30.  This led to multiple discussions about how people get the news today, particularly the Millenial Generation, which tends to use social media rather than watching the Evening News.  Because people are on the go, in general, respondents were not well-versed on what actually Williams had done.

Fifteen years ago, it’s likely that 95% of the people you spoke with on the street would have known who Tom Brokaw (NBC), Peter Jennings (ABC) and Dan Rather (CBS) were:  Nightly news anchors for those respective networks.  Now, most people probably can’t name more than one major anchor.

In fact, in our follow-up poll, we asked random citizens if they knew who Lester Holt was (the immediate stand-in for Williams, who previously was the weekend news anchor for NBC).  Going up to people on the street, it became clear that less than 25% of the population knew Mr. Holt, though that will obviously now change given his elevated status.

Those who deliver the news have a major responsibility to cover the issues fully and in-depth, while being as accurate as possible.  We are a subjective species, which means there is no true “objective” reporting.  We cannot expect perfection, but we can expect commitment to thorough and “responsible” coverage.

Wiilliams distorted and manipulated the news, at a minimum.  For that he will pay a personal and professional price, one he may not recover from.

I waited several days before writing this column because you had to figure the hammer was going to fall on Brian Williams.  I feel compelled to say who he is, because I’ve been asking people what they think of his situation and what should be done about it over the past week, and six people have said they don’t recognize his name (which is a some statement about news in today’s world).  To clear this up, he is the anchor for the NBC Evening News.

Ten years ago, 95% of the U.S. population would have known the names of the anchors for NBC, ABC and CBS, but that is not true anymore.  Now, you ask someone what s/he thinks should happen to Brian Williams based on his misleading/lying about a news (and perhaps more than one) incident, and you get back from some people, “Who’s that?”  Or, “What did he do?”

So, we have a network news anchor with a huge credibility issue, caught in a probable outright lie (and perhaps more than once).  Here’s the question I posed to others since the story broke, “What would you do if you were the head of NBC News?”

We now have the answer, since at the time this column was written, Williams has been suspended without pay for the next six months.  If other allegations hold water during that time period, he could be fired.  Or, if the public is forgiving, and NBC stands behind Williams, he could be reinstated.

Still, it’s fair to consider what you would do if you had authority over him.  Would you immediately fire him?  The journalistic purist position, and the response of about a third of the people to my impromptu question was answered “yes.”  (The second most common answer was, “I like Brian Williams.”  The third most common response was, “Who is Brian Williams?”).

Would you have suspended Williams?  Would you accept his public apology and let him stay in his position after a cool-down period?

NBC’s decision shows you the fine line between keeping a “celebrity” news anchor on board vs. making “credibility” of the news the most important bottom line consideration.  The rating of the show comes into consideration.

One person I queried on this subject mentioned listening to talk radio and he was astounded to hear the number of callers who adored Brian Williams, and stated they would stop watching NBC news if he was pulled as host.  Whether that would really happen is another question, but it shows us the dilemma faced when the news face is popular.  Does popularity win out over what is right?

The news is no longer (and hasn’t been for years) about reporting what is going on in the world.  It is about making money.  How the “show” gets crafted reflects those dynamics.

A news anchor draws viewers in based on a smiling face, looks, tone-of-voice and general sense that people trust him or her.   The decision NBC made (and could change in the months ahead) is not about ethics. They are thinking about bottom line numbers and what it means to their profits.

Money trumps journalism.  People aren’t looking for the truth or to delve into an issue in-depth.  They seek entertainment, to find out something new or unusual, with a passing interest in an event if it pushes their curiosity button. 

Mostly, we want things to work fine, and all the horrific stuff going on in the world to occur anywhere but in our back yard.  And we want to be told that by a nice guy like Brian Williams.

And that’s NBC’s dilemma:  Credibility vs. Popularity.

Our son Kirby has a phrase he uses that mocks the person speaking to him.  His response isn’t so unusual for a soon-to-be 20-year-old.  It makes me laugh when he uses it.

At the same time, like other ironic or sarcastic statements, there’s a grain of truth in it that causes the humor to be effective.  You have to be aware of the situation or your actions to get the reason his statement is funny.

His pet phrase is, “Don’t tell me what to do.”  It’s applied in multiple situations, typically in random fashion after you say something like, “Bring the car around to the front of the restaurant to pick us up.” Or, “You get the tickets while we run a quick errand.” 

“Don’t tell me what to do” draws a chuckle when used in little everyday life activities.  You smile, you may even laugh because his response causes you to pause and really think about how you approach the way you deal with others:  “Do I go around telling people what to do all the time?”

“Telling” people things takes you into dicey terrain.  Do you want to be talked about as a “know-it-all?”  If you’re pushing opinions frequently onto others, and you see people turn away or ignore you when entering the room, maybe you’ve been “telling” them too many things instead of asking questions or listening to what they have to say.

There was a person I worked with many years ago who would say, “Let me tell you,” and then he would go on to list a whole series of work projects that he directed your way, with multiple details that didn’t make sense.  There was no consideration for other activities on your plate.  You typically didn’t have time to clarify issues or find out what were the most important items to get done first.  This left you exhausted and frustrated because there wasn’t a give and take in terms of what was the best approach to get things done.

He told you, which implied you have no “say so” in the matter.  And that’s where Kirby’s phrase forces you to take a second, even though he is poking fun at mundane situations we face every day.  “Don’t tell me what to do” forces you to take a step back and examine how you approach conversation and communication with others.

If you take the phrase to heart, it makes you a better person.  Rather than “telling,” spend some time inquiring.  Sit down, find out what makes the other person tick.  Understand his or her perspective first, find out their motivations and what is going on in their life, then let that swill around in your brain a bit before figuring out any next steps.

This applies to work, play, any life situation.  It applies to family, friends and coworkers.

When you choose to tell, you’re making a demand.  That type of remark makes the hair bristle on most people’s backs.  They resent the statement or plain don’t want to do what you “tell” them.  They’ll grunt or shrug their shoulders or shuffle off disconsolately to get the job done, but they won’t like it and you won’t get buy-in from them.  And oddly, that’s what you seek – connecting with the individual so what you want done gets done precisely, effectively and in a timely fashion.

If you’re a “teller,” take a breather and ask questions next time you sit down with someone.  Pay attention, recalibrate, and then make a suggestion or ask for the person to take on a task with a “please” or “would you mind if?”  Own the approach.  If you hear “don’t tell me what to do in response,” it’s back to the drawing board.  

Six months ago I embarked on a small journey.  It has turned into a larger one.

At the time, I decided to cut out some bad eating habits.  The first one eliminated was sugar.  There was no goal beyond that – remove sweets from the menu and see where that took me.  I didn’t know how long the change in habit would last.  I didn’t know what that would accomplish.  I actually didn’t even worry about whether I would lose weight.

I knew I consumed way too much sugar, particularly mini-M&M’s and French Vanilla ice cream covered in Hershey’s Chocolate Sauce.  Both were major weaknesses.

Soon after I started the new regime, I found other things clicking into place.  At breakfast, I previously drank a muscle-building/replenishment drink.  As my desire for sweets waned, it became quickly clear that I really had no desire to drink that each morning, as it contained sugar and probably some other things our bodies don’t need.  Put that mix back in the cupboard.

Other small habits changed.  On the road, for example, when we take trips, I would typically bring a huge bag of M&M’s that I would gobble to get a sugar high and help keep me awake while driving on the highway.  Sure, it was bad for me, but it was easier than upping coffee intake and stopping every half hour to use the rest room.  The chocolate-coated candy became my boredom killer and mood elevator to get me where I was going.

The substitute for the M&M’s became smoked almonds, dried cherries and raisins.  I found they not only filled me up more quickly, but when I returned from a trip, rather than gaining 2-5 pounds, I would lose 1-2 instead.  Bingo.

As the light bulb went off in my head, other things fell into place.  I added a fat burner supplement to my daily routine.  I continued to cut down on red meat, carbos and fat, while increasing my intake of fresh fruits, vegetables and nuts.  If you follow nutrition, you read articles all the time on how it’s better to eat lower on the food totem pole (more stuff that comes right out of the ground rather than processed).

Finally, my use of the weight scale increased.  Rather than checking it out once every six months (my timing when all this began), I started putting my feet on the machine Fridays (before the weekend, which was when I typically pillaged food) and Mondays.  This gauged pre-gorging and post-gorging, and set the agenda for each week in terms of a goal to lose poundage.

Weighing yourself helps behavior change.  The numbers don’t lie, so you react to them and adjust.

All these modifications led to long-term decline in poundage.  From last July until today, I’m hovering at a 25-28 pound drop, depending on the day.  The weight loss is just a number.  What signifies a “success” in this quest is quirkier.

One of the ways I knew I’d turned the corner came this past weekend when my wife called me from the supermarket and asked if I wanted Girl Scout cookies (I kill for the thin mints).  Without hesitation, I answered, “No.”  She said okay, and hung up.

The second success marker was having to buy new pants.  I waited on this one, knowing how easy it is to gain weight after you lose it.  I didn’t want to buy new jeans or slacks, and have to revert back to my old ones three months later.  Committing to the smaller waistline was another signal of turning the corner.

No Girl Scout cookies and new pants tell you you’ve turned the corner.  Then you have to figure out how to keep from going in reverse.  Find your personal goal to know when you’ve turned the corner.