The parking lot for the Center for Addictions Treatment was in the back of the building, as was the front door. The entrance opened on the only addition to the original farmhouse, a smallish room where the receptionist sat at one of two desks. The area was called the secretarial pod. The entrance to Ray's office, both medication and technician area, was right behind the secretary's desk. To the left was another door, kept closed, which led down the hallway to the client sleeping rooms, the dining room and the kitchen. There was a phone right inside the front door (or the back door, depending upon who you asked). When Ray wanted to smoke, he would lean out the front door, propping it open with his back in such a way that he could see down the hallway if he propped that door open as well and answer the phone should it ring. Smoking was prohibited inside the building, a policy which grew increasingly unpopular with both the staff and the clients as the course of the year wore on. By December, Ray would have to do weekly fire drills around three a.m. as a way of politely reminding his anti-social and policy impaired population that any building more than a century old was actually little more than well formed kindling. After enough of those, any problem he had been having with people smoking in the building usually went away. Given the right incentives, even this population could be relatively self-regulating. The telephone rang before Ray was even half-finished with his cigarette. "Admit it now, Ray." She sounded petulant. "Fine, I admit it. Do I get the booby prize?" "That depends on whether you intended a double entendre or not." "Of course I did." "Then you lose. Get your mind out of the gutter." He took a drag on his cigarette, then made himself sound insulted. "I'm not the one sitting around naked and calling strange men in the middle of the night." What did the lady say to Ray on the phone? Pick the correct answer from the following options: - not enough information - Of course I did - Admit it now, Ray - Fine, I admit it
Admit it now, Ray

Mr. Drake hurried into the trailer, and Ethorne, Gwenny, Johnny Tepes, and I looked up as Mrs. DeLyon followed him. He looked at me. "Where would Digger go?" I shrugged and blinked. The question made no sense; Digger would not go anywhere. When he slept, he slept for ten hours. You could toss him around like a sack of potatoes, and he would not wake up. With one exception. "Bathroom?" Mrs. DeLyon shook her head. "No." Mr. Drake said, "And he's not in any of the beds. We looked in all three." Mrs. DeLyon said, "And under them. And I called for him. He wouldn't hide from me, would he?" I shook my head. Ethorne got up, went to the door, and shouted, "Digger! Where is you, Digger-boy? You don't need to hide no more. Everything's fine now!" The dogs barked in response, but no person answered. Mrs. DeLyon said, "Call Dr. Lamont. Maybe Susan put him in the backseat and forgot to tell us." Mr. Drake's voice held as little hope for that as Mrs. DeLyon's, but he said, "All right." Mrs. DeLyon said, "We'll get Chris to bed in the meantime." "I'm in charge," I said. Ethorne said, "When there's nothing you can do, you might as well sleep. Save your strength for when you need it." Mrs. DeLyon said, "Don't worry. At least one of us will stay in the trailer until your folks get back." Gwenny said, "C'mon, boyfriend. I'll see you to your bed." I said, "I can go by myself." Gwenny looked at Mrs. DeLyon, then at Johnny Tepes. "Well, that's a blow to a girl's ego." They smiled without much humor, and Mr. Drake hung up the phone. Ethorne said, "What is it?" Mr. Drake said, "Let's get Chris to bed first." I stood and went to the door. "G'night." What could be the reason Digger would wake up? Pick the correct answer from the following options: - to change beds - not enough information - to use the bathroom - to get a snack
to use the bathroom

Oh, yes, I accidentally insulted a bully. It was awesome. This was about a month ago. It was the last day I worked. Memorial Day at the city rec center is SLOW, especially when it's beautiful outside, but for some reason, we had two front desk attendants: me, and "bully #1". Bully #1 clearly had a major distaste for me. She hated my tattoos, the way I would get into a heated debate one day with a police officer patron, then have a fantastic conversation with him days later about legalizing marijuana. She hated that I was liked, but still could give fuck-all about what others thought of me. Bully #2 was our financial director, who got stuck as the manager on duty that day. I honestly never had a clue she didn't like me. She was intense and sarcastic with everyone. I liked her style. On this day, I really got the feeling they were trash talking me pretty hard, the way they kept disappearing, talking over me, laughing like mean girls. I blew it off, because I was down an internet rabbit hole, trying to wrap my brain around some concepts. I was looking at a word, and while I like to think I know exact definitions, sometimes I ask people their take on it. Many psychological terms have some subjective meaning. I spun around in my chair, locked eyes with #2, and asked her: "What do you know about Machiavellianism?" I swear to God, all I wanted was her take on it (she's a smart cookie), and all hell broke loose. I now realize that she thought I was passive-aggressively accusing her of said word. They got really nasty (behind my back, of course). They retreated to the back for awhile, and left me by myself. Cue loud, mean girl laughter. When #1 resumed her post next to me at the front desk, I calmly told her, "I'm cashing out, and leaving. I'm uncomfortable." And I did. It was noon. We were closing at 1. I figured those bitches could handle it on their own. Who hated the tattoos? Pick the correct answer from the following options: - not enough information - bully#2 - the police officer - bully#1
bully#1