I was lost. As I sat parked at the old service station, I pulled out the maps and tried to do a little backtracking. It didn't take me long to figure out where I had made the wrong turn. I had tried following my memory instead of Luna's directions and wound up about eighty miles off course. My gas tank was pushing 'E' but fortunately the service station was open. When I stepped out of my Jeep, I could feel the soles of my boots melt on the asphalt. The heat coming off the cracked and pitted cement peeled off in waves that rolled out in every endless direction. The barren mountains in the distance looked unstable, like I was looking at them through a window pane slicked with olive oil. I slogged my way over to the gas pump and wrapped my shirt around the handle to keep my skin from burning against the desert-baked metal. The heat was so great I worried the fumes would ignite. A dirty round man stood in the shadowy doorway of the ramshackle service station and stared at me while he rubbed his hands inside an oily red rag. The oval name-patch stitched to his coveralls was loose at one end and curled like a leaf in the heat. His name was Jack. I topped off the tank and then walked over to him. "You work here?" I knew it was a stupid question the second it left my mouth. He and I were the only living things for fifty miles in any direction. Who the hell else would be working here? "Who the hell else would be working here?" he said. I shrugged my shoulders and pulled out my wallet. Jack wobbled inside behind a glass counter filled with everything from belt buckles to oil funnels. "That your momma's car?" he asked. It's impossible to tell what kind of psychological impact this heat would have on a man who lived out here alone, but I was sure it wasn't positive. What did the narrator believe? A. He was lost B. The man didn't work at the gas station C. It wasn't his momma's car D. not enough information
A

(Question)
Years back, following a transition inside a large company where many people got fired and moved around, the decision was made to give the remaining people more work. Now, let me pause here, when I say, "more work" did not mean more of the existing work they already did. "More work" did not mean work of what they already knew, or signed up for when they were hired. More work meant incorporating a completely different role. For me, I'm a programmer. And "management" decided they wanted programmers to also do BA work. Now, mind you, nowhere on my employment contract does it state I'd have to take a BA role. And nowhere on my employment contract did it state taking a BA role would also require me doing all of my programming work. So, after being pushed a few times to attend BA meetings, I got fed up. So I pulled my manager into a meeting and explained this to him. I said, you have two choices: I do two roles, BA and programmer, and I get a new salary to account for the role. When he asked how much, I said, take my salary and multiply by 1.6. Option 2, I go back to programming, and you never pull me into a meeting again on BA work. It's not what you hired me for, and it's not what you pay me for. When my boss replied, "Our company is not in the position to pay for two roles", I told him, then it sounds like Option 2. And by the way, I don't ever want to have this discussion again. If you want Superman performance, you cannot pay Clark Kent wages. 1 year passed and I was never bothered again about BA roles. Takeaways: Middle managers are one step above one-celled organisms. They can, and will try to get you to do non-role work, with no intention of ever paying you more. They key is to cut it off at the pass. How does he feel about BA work? A. not enough information B. He dislikes it C. He wants to do more of it and less programming D. He finds it exciting
(Answer)
B

Ques:Jason had been sitting alone at his table, staring at the tall, platinum blonde for an hour. His imagination ran wild with thoughts of kissing her full lips while his hands explored her lean, muscled body. Tonight he didn't need the whiskey to warm him up. But he kept drinking it anyway. She stepped away from the mike, sat her acoustic guitar on its stand, and walked down from the small stage. Jason beat all the other losers to the bar and sat down beside her. "You must be pretty thirsty after all that beautiful singing." How many times had she heard that line? But at age 33, she'd probably heard every pickup line known to man. "Yeah," she said, giving him a quick glance. He wasn't a bad looking guy. Probably a couple of inches shorter than her. At six-foot-two, she was accustomed to that. But a lot of men couldn't deal with her height. They liked to be the tall one in the relationship. Not that she'd had many relationships. Mostly one-nighters. Without her saying a word, the bartender sat a glass of ice down in front of her, and poured her a can of Diet Coke. "Thanks, Joe." She took a sip as he walked away. "I'm Jason." "Sondra," she said, looking straight ahead as she took another sip. "I really enjoyed your music--especially that last song. Did you write it yourself?" "Yeah." "Wow. It was sad, but moving. You've got talent." Here we go, she thought. And I suppose you're a talent agent or a record producer, or you've got a friend in the business. And you'd be more than happy to get me a record deal--assuming I'd be willing to go with you right now to some sleazy motel. "I'm sick of this business. In fact, you just heard my last performance. First thing Monday morning I'm going out to find me a real job. One that will pay the bills." What is probably true about Jason? A. not enough information B. he wants to date Sondra C. he wants to sign a record deal with Sondra D. he wants to hire Sondra

Ans:
B