(Q).
He had apparently spaced out for a second or two. When he came to, a large, annoyed woman was leaning in toward him. "Mister? Mister, are you even listening to me?" He looked at the receding rows of fluorescent lights on the struts of the cavernous ceiling, the gleaming linoleum floors, the pallets of sale-priced plastic coolers and Special K and motor oil, and then he looked at the rack of merchandise at his back and understood that he was in a Wal-Mart, behind the returns counter. He heard his own voice saying, as if by reflex, "Do you have your receipt?" * At the first opportunity, he locked himself in a bathroom stall and dug out his wallet. His driver's license showed the right name, birthdate, and photo, but it had been issued by the State of North Carolina, and it listed an address he'd never heard of. He scrubbed his face at the sink. It was him in the mirror, a tanned and healthy 56, hair mostly gray but still all there. He felt groggy, as if he'd woken prematurely. It was only the numbness, he thought, that kept the panic at bay. If he didn't push, he found he knew the answers to some questions. He was due to clock out in an hour. When he left the parking lot he would go under the highway, turn left, and merge. * He found his way to a battered white Toyota pickup in the employee section. The key in his pocket started the engine. He forced himself not to think too hard as he drove, taking the turns that seemed to have a certain inevitability. He wound up on a dirt road near someplace called Pittsboro, in front of a small brick house surrounded by high yellow grass, pines, and live oaks. He probably locked himself in the bathroom for a Pick the correct answer from the following options: A. couple of seconds B. 5 minutes C. not enough information D. 60 minutes
(A).
A

(Q).
I frankly haven't the slightest idea what the difference is between a moka pot and a cafetiere, but I'm going to pretend I do. "Delicious," I say, setting down my cup. "Way better than that stuff you get at Starbucks." Everyone else nods their heads in agreement, but I can't help but wonder if they're just being polite. Jason is pouring cream into his cup with a practiced hand, letting the white stream fall from the pitcher's lip in a smooth and slender column that blooms across his coffee's surface like a carnivorous plant photographed in stop-motion. "Did you hear about Tibet?" he asks. "Yeah," I say, "Terrible." "What's really shocking," says my boss, "is the complete ignorance of, well, most of America about what's going on right now." "Terrible." chimes in Jason. "and what with the death of newspapers, soon practically no one will be able to easily come by a well-formed opinion." "Did you hear the New York Times might be going bankrupt?" my boss asks. "Now that," Jason says, draining his cup, "would be a tragedy." Our biscotti has arrived and I'm reluctant to take the first piece. Is Dr. Burns paying again? It makes me feel awkward, because and despite the fact that she paid the last time--and this was at her invitation. Jason, for all his savior faire, did not appear to know how a Turkish coffee tasting was really supposed to go last time, and did not question when Dr. Burns ordered for all of us. Tracy, similarly, followed the doctor's lead and silently acquiesced when she took the check from the waiter dressed in a vest and what I took be MC Hammer pants. At any rate, it's not too weird for the boss to pay, right? After last time, I had gone home and dug out a 1984 copy of Emily Post, but that wasn't much help. There was no heading for "Research Assistants" nor did I find a chapter on "Student/Professor Luncheons." What did I wonder? Pick the correct answer from the following options: A. not enough information B. who is going to eat two biscottis C. what is going on in Tibet D. if everyone else is just being polite.
(A).
D

(Q).
I was 14 at the time. My family and I took a family vacation to Tybee Island, Georgia. It is a beautiful place that I would highly recommend. I told my family that I was going to go find a port-a-pot. So I head off by myself. I'm in the port-a-pot, i'm in there for roughly 10 minutes. (you can assume what I was doing) I wash my hands and get ready to leave the port-a-pot, and I tried to open the door and it was locked. I'm claustrophobic, so I start to FREAK OUT. I started banging on the door, running into the door with all of my weight. Nothing was helping. I then start crying, I thought for sure that I was going to die. I knew it was the end, at the age of 14, locked in a port-a-pot, in 95 degree weather in the middle of a beach in Georgia. Looking back, i'm curious as to why my family never came to look for me, I was gone for like 30 minutes. So I'm banging on the door continuously, bawling my eyes out. Then a man opened the door for me, from the outside. He was about 6'3 with dreads about 12 inches long and weighed about 280 pounds. I ran out of the port-a-pot and jumped on the guy and gave him a hug and told him that I loved him and that he saved my life. I don't know how he managed to open the door for me, but I definitely know that my 14 year old self owes that man my life. I'm not sure where he is in life, or what he's doing, but I hope God is blessing him abundantly. It is definitely a funny story to tell my friends. How strong is the man in dreads? Pick the correct answer from the following options: A. He is probably very weak B. He is probably very strong C. He is probably of average strength D. not enough information
(A).
B