input: OPTIONS:
- a few minutes.
- several hours.
- not enough information
- all day. Now, answer this question: "Congratulations, jackass, you just got us sued." My editor, Sharon, was standing in front of my desk. She was apparently not happy. I shrugged, slouching further down in my chair, trying to hide from her gigantic crazy eyes behind my computer. It was a white laptop with a sticker that said "This Machine Kills Yuppies" slapped over the corporate logo on back. She reached out with one of her freakish man-hands and slammed the screen shut. "Let me try this again. You just got us sued six times over." Sharon Sinclair was a six-foot-tall beast of a woman with a huge mane of wiry black and gray hair pulled back in a pony tail. I had every confidence that she could tear me in two and use my bloody carcass in some kinky hedonistic lesbian cult ritual or something. So I usually tried to choose my words with the appropriate care around her. "Jesus-fucking-Christ, I haven't even had my morning coffee yet, and my head's still reeling from the Louisville Slugger that pummeled it last night. So I really don't feel like dealing with whatever annoying hormonal episode you have going on here." She glared at me silently, watching me squirm a little before asking, "Are you done?" "Probably." "Good," she said with a suppressed grin as she took a seat next to me. "Because I just let you publicly accuse the mayor and the valley's most powerful corporations of conspiring to defraud the taxpayers. So what's your plan for keeping my ass off the firing line?" I tilted back in my chair and met Sharon's gaze. "Look, we knew we'd get a strong reaction. Let them sue. We have e-mails to back us up." "These legal briefings say your e-mails were forged," she responded, waving a thick stack of papers in my face. "Of course they're gonna say that. That's why I made sure to get corroboration. Abrasax confirmed that the e-mails between Dylan Maxwell and City Hall are legit. But you know all this, so I don't know why we're wasting time going over it again." Question: The protagonist's conversation with Sharon probably lasted: === The answer to the above question is
A:
output: a few minutes.

I saw one last night on an episode of Designated Survivor. To qualify this, I'm not normally bothered by product placements. Sometimes they can even add to the scene. But this one was bad, really bad. Agent is busy hunting for baddies. Finishes questioning one naughty person who climbs in his Ford F150 and speeds off. So far, so good - it is the sort of vehicle a country-living billionaire bad-guy would drive. The agent then pulls out her phone and Move to close up of phone screen showing Ford app already loaded (and screen unlocked!). Agent slowly moves finger to app. Does something. Pause as app does fancy graphics. Cut to car interior. Shot of dash, showing Ford logo on steering wheel. It's bright blue - are they not normally grey or more subtle? Pause for a second Zoom in on dash. Dash light up. Car starts. Show pretty dash lights for a second or so. Cut to agent Agent walks to car, gets in drives off. Lingering shot of rear of car. It was just so clumsy. Massive halt to the flow of the scene to show it. In most films you never see anyone starting cars, putting on seatbelts or similar unless this is part of the plot because it's unnecessary and not interesting to watch. I sort of expected the remote start function to have some sort of relevance later but no, it was totally ignored. Added to that: There was no password or security on her phone - and this is an agent investigating super secret stuff. If you don't show her unlocking the phone, why show her lovingly prodding the app? They are as relevant. She unlocked and started the car while she was 2030 paces away, on the grounds of a suspect ranch. Someone could easily have jumped in the car. Not very security conscious. Question: What kind of phone was the agent using? === The answer to the above question is

OPTIONS:
- T-Mobile
- Samsung
- iPhone
- not enough information

Answer: not enough information

A few times. Mostly whilst doing this job and trying to help drunk people or assholes. Sadly it's becoming a regular occurrence for crews to be assaulted. My last time was a few days ago and the worst thing about it was watching my crew mate and several police officers curl up laughing. I'll set the scene. Imagine. If you will. A large rather expensive hotel. Then add to that image a rather drunk and buxom young lady who is lying on the floor in a drunken slumber after taking off a lot of her clothes. She was just in her underwear. We were called to look after her. On our arrival she was absolutely fine. Stood up, walked to the stretcher and lay down. Whining about how we were the ' oppressors of society', and other such drivel Because I had the cheek to try and give her a tiny bit of dignity by covering her up with a blanket. She didn't want that. We made it to the ambulance without any hassle and started to do the necessary checks we do on every patient. Blood pressure etc etc when out of the blue she decided that she wanted to release her rather large breasts. Try as I might to give her a little bit of dignity she wasn't interested so we just made sure no one could see inside the ambulance. After a few minutes she calmed down so I put the blanket over her. Something I do for almost every patient. Without warning THWACK. she hit my in the face with her boob. Then. As I reeled from this waiting for my brain to catch up and make sense of everything, THWACK she did it again. Right round the face with a large breast!! I turned around to get some support from my colleagues who were crying. Both my crew mate and the officer. Crying. Neither able to speak.. I didn't know what to say for a while after thatsomething my crew mate called 'a blessing' Sigh Question: Where the police officers and crew go to? === The answer to the above question is
OPTIONS:
- The ambulance
- The police station
- not enough information
- A large rather expensive hotel

Answer:
A large rather expensive hotel