Read Snakes in Suits: When Psychopaths Go to Work Online
Authors: Paul Babiak,Robert D. Hare
Tags: #&NEW
Defendant:
“I found Christ.”
Prosecutor:
“Congratulations. You’re going to heaven. But first, you’re going to jail.”
Irresponsibility, another one of the twenty traits that Hare uses to define the psychopath, is not an unusual trait. Many of us make promises we don’t keep or enter commitments on which we don’t follow through. Typically, though, while we may seem irresponsible in one part of our life, we may be very responsible in others, unlike the psychopath, who is chronically irresponsible in all aspects of life.
What You See May Not Be What You See
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Their are many variants on the theme of ignoring responsibility: de-faulting on loans, overspending on credit cards, failing to pay bills, neglecting child support, putting others at risk by driving recklessly, and so forth.
The selfish, one-sided, psychopathic approach to life can lead, over a lifetime, to several predictable outcomes. First, psychopaths have many short-term relationships over the course of their lives, a direct result of the Assessment-Manipulation-Abandonment process.
They may approach many individuals offering “commitment,” but then leave when their usefulness has expired. This results in a series of traditional and common-law marriages, short-term live-in relationships, and so forth. They often leave behind a trail of jilted lovers, possibly abused ex-spouses, and unsupported children. Occasionally, this pattern of behavior leads to a reputation as a “player,”
and some psychopaths will even promote these reputations themselves to build up their status and mystique. Unfortunately, for the psychopaths’ partners, these relationships are one-sided, exist without real intimacy, and are often plagued by intimidation, abuse, and violence. Sadly, as many as one in five persistent spouse abusers have psychopathic personalities. Many avoid prison by taking part in court-mandated treatment programs that do them or their partners no good.
Second, psychopaths typically do not have practicable long-term career or life goals. Thus, a series of unconnected, randomly selected jobs defines their work history. Despite the lack of a real career, psychopaths will claim all sorts of goals and achievements, and weave a career “history” so convincing that others believe the success, fortune, and achievement they profess to have attained in their lives. In the business world, these fictitious achievements are memorialized in a résumé filled with lies, self-generated letters of commendation, and even fake wall plaques and awards. Even psychopaths who choose a criminal career lack clear goals and objectives, getting involved in a wide variety of opportunistic offenses, rather than specializing the way typical career criminals do. This is
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an outcome of their impulsivity, poor behavioral controls, and low frustration tolerance. That their predatory lifestyle may bother their friends, family, or even fellow criminals is of little importance to them. Depending on the situational demands, though, they can spout or make up what seem like reasonable, attainable goals in order to impress or manipulate others.
Dave drove around the parking lot looking for a space. He had over-slept and was running late. Normally in and at his desk before Frank arrived, Dave swore to himself and headed for the visitor lot where he knew there would be openings available. Not that there weren’t plenty of spaces in the “north forty,” the nickname of the parking lot on the far side of the complex, but he hated to walk when he could park much closer. I should have asked for a reserved spot, he thought, eyeing Dorothy’s new Lexus in the “employee of the month” spot right next to Jack Garrideb’s space. He knew Dorothy from her reputation as the hotshot marketing associate. I should be in marketing, thought Dave as he pulled into the first available visitor’s spot, grabbed his briefcase, and opened the door.
Todd, from site security, was making his rounds. He worked the
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early morning shift, which suited him just fine. Being a people person, he liked waving and greeting the other employees as they arrived for work, and at a company like Garrideb Technologies, he got great benefits—much more than he would have gotten down the road, working security for some of the other companies in the park. He spotted the red sports car heading for the visitor’s lot and decided to investigate. “You’re a Garrideb employee, aren’t you?” he confronted Dave after noticing his employee decal.
“What? Yes, I’m late for a meeting with the executive committee,” Dave said, continuing to get out of his car. “I’m Dave S from research; I have the plans for the new product line,” he said, raising his briefcase into the air, “and it wouldn’t look good for me or you if I’m late for this meeting.”
“Employees park in Lots B, C, and D, sir,” Todd reminded Dave. “I’m afraid I’ll have to ask you to move your car over to the employee area.”
“Listen, Todd,” said Dave, eyeing Todd’s name from his badge.
“I told you, I have a meeting and it’s very important.”
“Sir, you can’t park here,” Todd countered sternly. Dave gave him a mean look, closed his car door, and started to walk toward the building entrance. “I’m going to have to ticket you, sir,” said Todd, speaking to Dave’s back as he moved away.
“Do what you have to do, Todd. I don’t care, and I’m certain some important people won’t either after I present my material,” said Dave loudly as he walked away. “New products pay your salary, Todd, don’t forget that!” shouted Dave as he hustled off without turning around.
“Hi, Dave,” chimed Debbie, from accounting, who made it a habit to be walking down the hallway toward the lobby every morning, just to bump into Dave. Today, she had walked this route four times and was beginning to wonder if Dave was coming in or not.
“That asshole,” muttered Dave under his breath, but loud enough that Debbie could hear him.
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“Are you all right?” she inquired, drawing closer and hoping to engage him in conversation. Dave looked up.
“Yeah, I’m okay, just flew in on the red-eye from the coast,” said Dave, as he passed her by in the hall. He’s seen me almost every day for three months now, and he’s yet to give me more than a “good morning”
and a wave! thought Debbie sadly, as she walked over to the cafeteria to re-refill her cup.
Dave got to his office and threw his briefcase onto the credenza.
Grabbing his notebook, he headed for the cafeteria for coffee. “Hi, Marge,” he beamed as he passed by her desk. “Is the big guy in today?” he said peering into Frank’s office and noting his briefcase wasn’t there.
“Off-site executive committee meeting; don’t expect any of them back until Wednesday. How was your weekend?” she asked.
“Oh, the usual, I stayed late Friday afternoon to finish that report for Frank; probably the one he’s giving to the committee at the off-site.” The meeting I should be presenting at, he thought.
On the way to the cafeteria, Dave always made it a point to stop by every desk. In his brief three months, he had met and introduced himself to almost every employee. He had his lists. There were the losers, of course. Guess I met another loser this morning, he thought, chuckling. But Dave also knew who the winners were, and the wannabes, of course—there were several of them in this fast-growing company.
As he entered the company café, he noticed Dorothy at the coffee urn. Nice, he thought, smiling. “So, the employee of the month drinks coffee like the rest of us?” said Dave coming up behind her.
“Oh, hi, yes. I know, the parking spot,” Dorothy said, turning.
“It’s embarrassing, actually. I’d like to think I’m just . . .”
“I’m Dave, pleased to finally meet you.”
“Likewise,” she said smiling.
“Can I buy you some coffee?” he said jokingly.
“Sure, anytime.”
The group that had formed on the lawn collectively gasped as Ted, their neighbor, was led away in handcuffs by the police. Ted’s wife, holding their young daughter, was crying and fumbling in her pock-etbook to find the keys to the car. She glanced at the neighbors who looked away out of respect and embarrassment. Ted yelled back to her, “Don’t worry, Hon, just a mix-up. Call our lawyer; his number is in my desk, he’ll take care of this.” Behind Ted and the officer were others carrying file boxes and a computer plus some garbage bags filled with stuff from Ted’s house.
“Can you believe it?” whispered Martha quietly to her neighbor, Sarah. “No, I can’t,” joined Ed, moving closer to the front of the growing crowd to get a better look. Ted was chairperson of the block association that helped to protect the residents from burglars and their children from predators. He attended church when he was in
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town—his job required a lot of travel. His wife baked cakes to raise money for the building fund and was just a delightful person. No one could fathom what this was all about. “Here comes Ralph; let’s see what he found out.”
Ralph played softball with some of the people on the police force and checked in with one of his friends who sat in the cruiser blocking the road just in case Ted tried to flee. “Stole lots of money from his company,” he said. “Embezzlement, big time. They think he’s been doing this for about two years, and it only came out recently.
Apparently he was able to hide everything from them.”
“Oh my God,” gasped a few folks in the group. This was such a quiet neighborhood filled with professionals, many with small children. It didn’t make sense that something like this could happen. “It must be some mistake,” offered Sarah, “maybe . . .”
“I don’t think so,” interrupted Ralph. “Apparently, his real name isn’t Ted,” he looked around and lowered his voice, “and Sheila isn’t his only wife.”
“Oh my God!” gasped the group collectively.
Psychopaths, Psychopaths Everywhere?
Andrew Cunanan, a restaurant employee in San Diego, had moved to Miami and was trying to enter the social scene when he allegedly met famous designer Gianni Versace at a party. While accounts suggest that Mr. Versace might have snubbed him, this is unlikely, given the gracious, social nature of Versace. For reasons that have never been fully explained, Cunanan, who had already brutally murdered two alleged lovers in San Diego, was able to elude authorities by moving to Miami, despite an arrest warrant, newspaper coverage, and a manhunt. In Miami, he approached Versace, who was returning home after a morning walk, and fatally shot him at point-blank range. Cunanan was discovered hiding out in a houseboat less than three miles from the murder scene. After five hours and as many
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rounds of tear gas, the SWAT team entered and found Mr. Cunanan’s body, an apparent suicide. The tragedy created by this
“spree” killer has never been completely explained; there are only questions. Had Cunanan successfully conned his way into Versace’s social circle? Was Cunanan a psychopath or “merely” an emotionally disturbed individual whose crimes, though reprehensible, were understandable?
Leading a double life has become big news recently, as improved forensics, coupled with more knowledge about psychopathic manipulation, have increased law enforcement’s ability to unmask frauds. On a recent Oprah Winfrey program discussing a book entitled Blood Brother: 33 Reasons My Brother Scott Peterson Is Guilty by Anne Bird, Dr. Keith Ablow, a forensic psychiatrist, noted that Scott Peterson, the man found guilty of the brutal murder of his wife and unborn child, fit the profile of a sociopath (see page 19 for the difference between a sociopath and a psychopath). Peterson was able to present the convincing face of a concerned husband, even participating in the search for his missing pregnant wife, all the while planning a future with his (unsuspecting) girlfriend. In home movies, he came across as a normal, fun-loving husband and soon-to-be father. The real Scott Peterson, though, can be appreciated by anyone who watched his television interview or listened to the taped phone conversations his girlfriend made once she discovered that he was married and that his wife was mysteriously missing. In these audio and visual documents, he shows no apparent concern, empathy, remorse, or even sadness at his wife’s disappearance. Despite (or perhaps because of) a major police investigation, he attempted to leave the country, outfitted with a new hair color and a pocket full of money. Clearly, the evidence amassed by the authorities was sufficient to erase any doubt in the minds of those who counted in the end, as a jury of his peers convicted him of the brutal murder and sentenced him to death.
Is it ever possible to discern the potential for cold-blooded violence before it is too late? As far as we know, neither Andrew Cunanan nor Scott Peterson exhibited any murderous tendencies early on. Were
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there other signs? Perhaps with more information about their personality and interactions with others over the years, their crimes might become less inexplicable. Even so, psychological “autopsies” are more useful for generating hypotheses about behavioral patterns than they are for providing causal explanations of an event. Furthermore, even if family members, close friends, and associates had noticed that all was not right with these individuals, they would not necessarily have appreciated the potential significance of the information, and they might not have known how to act on it. What we can say, however, is that even if we cannot predict specific events, the behavior of psychopathic individuals does not occur out of the blue and seldom is out of character. The problem is that without prolonged and perceptive interactions with these individuals, we typically are not sure what this character is, particularly when it is obscured by a charming physically and socially attractive exterior.