“I’m sorry, it’s just, are you Trolley Problem-ing me? This is a job interview.”

“I, OK, it’s a standard set of questions we ask all candidates.”

“What is the intent of this? What are you trying to determine about me?”

“Please, can we just —”

“OK.” I look down and pinch the bridge of my nose, theatrically, gathering my forces.

“OK: Trolley Problem.”

I take a deep breath and look him in the eyes.

“How did these imaginary people get tied to the tracks?”

“How? I mean, it’s a thought experiment it’s —”

“Because it seems to me that you put them there.”

“Me?”

“Just now. When you framed the problem. You know,” air-quotes, “set the scene.”

“Um, I mean—”

“Which makes you responsible. If I flip the switch, if I don’t flip the switch, it doesn’t matter. Because I didn’t tie these people to the tracks, you did.”

“OK but —”

“Which means you have the power to save them. Or, you know, not.”

“This isn’t really —” Lapel grab.

“DO IT. SAVE THE TROLLEY PEOPLE OR I’LL SMASH YOUR FUCKING HEAD IN WITH THIS BIKE LOCK.”

“AH! FUCK!”

“Just kidding, ha ha. I abhor violence.” The lock clatters to the conference table. “I’m a good person.”

“But isn’t it interesting how everything changes when the violence climbs up out of the fiction and threatens you in Real Life.” Air quotes again.

“I—”

“Of course, I wasn’t actually going to hurt you. That was just pretend! Fictional violence to prove a philosophical point. See?”

“You’re fucking crazy!” backing away, half climbing out of, half tripping over his designer knock-off chair.

“Look, I just saved all the trolley people without hurting anyone. I’m a hero.”

“Do I get the job?”