The lottery ticket - and a moral dilemma

1:42pm Friday 20th June 2008

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THE most bizarre and ingenious job application crossed my desk the other week - and left me with a moral dilemma.

I received a letter from Duncan Wells asking me to hire him as a columnist.

There were two unusual aspects to his request: a) he sent it by normal mail, as opposed to the many hundreds of applicants who lay siege to me with a relentless tide of email, and; b) he attached a lottery ticket to his letter of application.

Duncan, of Chalfont St Peter, wrote: "Now, as to which of these two offerings will be the best for you, me as a writer on your paper or the lottery ticket, all I have to say is that only one of them will be a gamble."

Initially, I assumed the ticket was an old one and the whole thing was a stunt.

But to my surprise, it was a live ticket for the draw to be held the next day.

So what, I hear you cry, what's the problem with that?

The issue, my friends, is that I am deeply superstitious and believe that fate will conspire to bite me on the backside the moment I try to defy it.

I knew as a matter of certainty that unless I did something radical, this ticket would win big, and that I would be faced with the most agonising moral dilemma of my life.

If Duncan's line of numbers won a million pounds, would I be obliged to send the cash back to him?

Would I share the spoils, or would I keep quiet, do a runner and live the life of guilty luxury for ever more?

Another thought occurred. The ticket was sent to me in my capacity as editor, so would I contractually have to pass the million pounds to my employer?

And, if I did try to keep the winnings, would Duncan remember his numbers and launch a claim against me - leaving me bankrupt, desolate and shamed?

The only other choice was to tuck it into a drawer and never look at it again.

It was all too much for me as I sat there going through the options. I was doomed.

Then suddenly, a brainwave struck me like a bolt of lightning. I jotted down the six numbers on a scrap of paper and carefully filed Duncan's ticket in my drawer.

The next day, I paid a pound and bought a replica lottery ticket with the same line of numbers.

Now I knew that if the ticket won, I could keep my share and send Duncan back his winning ticket. The downside was that the winnings would be halved, but at that point I felt a strange calm.

I knew that fate was satisfied and that I wouldn't win.

Naturally I was right and the numbers flopped, but Duncan was impressed with my strategy when I later wrote back informing him what I'd done.

"Yes this question of dilemma had occurred to me," he replied.

"You see the recipient of the ticket would not know if I knew the numbers or not.

"So if it won they might feel duty bound to declare this because they might think that I would know. Your answer was brilliant for all the reasons you give and perfectly skirts round any moral and commercial problems."

But he infuriatingly added: "In actual fact I did not keep a note of the numbers because it would be too terrible to think that I had given away a winning ticket.

"Naturally I wished you every success but at odds of 14 million to 1, I wouldn't be holding my breath."

And he told me: "You have demonstrated that not only are you a man of resolve - in the buying of the second ticket with the same numbers - but you are a man of integrity with the comment that as a winner you would have had to hand back the money."

He has tried the lottery ticket tactic before, he admitted.

One daily newspaper executive wrote back saying that had he won, he would have made sure Duncan received a good share - from his villa in the Bahamas.