(Q).
My Pa disappeared somewhere in the wilds of 1975, when I was just fourteen years old. He was the Ambassador to 1975, but back home in 1898, in New Jerusalem, Utah, they all thought he was Ambassador to France. When he disappeared, Mama and I came back through the triple-bolted door that led from our apt in 1975 to our horsebarn in 1898. We returned to the dusty streets of New Jerusalem, and I had to keep on reminding myself that I was supposed to have been in France, and 'polly-voo' for my chums, and tell whoppers about the Eiffel Tower and the fancy bread and the snails and frogs we'd eaten. I was born in New Jerusalem, and raised there till I was ten. Then, one summer's day, my Pa sat me on his knee and told me we'd be going away for a while, that he had a new job. 'But what about the store?' I said, scandalised. My Pa's wonderful store, the only General Store in town not run by the Saints, was my second home. I'd spent my whole life crawling and then walking on the dusty wooden floors, checking stock and unpacking crates with waybills from exotic places like Salt Lake City and even San Francisco. Pa looked uncomfortable. 'Mr Johnstone is buying it.' My mouth dropped. James H Johnstone was as dandified a city-slicker as you'd ever hope to meet. He'd blown into town on the weekly Zephyr Speedball, and skinny Tommy Benson had hauled his three huge steamer trunks to the cowboy hotel. He'd tipped Tommy two dollars, in Wells-Fargo notes, and later, in the empty lot behind the smithy, all the kids in New Jerusalem had gathered 'round Tommy to goggle at the small fortune in queer, never-seen bills. 'Pa, no!' I said, without thinking. I knew that if my chums ordered their fathers around like that, they'd get a whipping, but my Pa almost never whipped me. Question: What did James H Johnstone tip Tommy Benson? Options: - Two dollars - Zephyr speedball - not enough information - Three huge steamer trunks === The correct answer is
(A).
Two dollars

(Q).
TL:DR: I un-professionally get mad at a customer and verbally slam the door on her way out. I was working a shift at a chain cafe one afternoon in England, it was during the lunch rush, so we had a back up of customers lined up to the exit. See the problem with the chain is that all of our customers mostly range from midlife crisis to half-a-foot in the grave, so once a customer lines up, they don't leave and they extend the queue. Plus this is a chain cafe so I've got a manager who's constantly on my back to speed up because someone is on her back to drive numbers up: this results in the line putting stress on my air-hostess smile, but they don't call it work for nothing. Now I'm not the only one stressed, a customer lines up during lunch, they're hungry and wish that Euclidean laws would suspend themselves so that they did not have to deal with the fact that I can't deal with a customer at the speed of light. Well one eldritch horror declares that my coffee took too long and does her rendition of the 1933 Hitler speech to the rest of the customers with an addendum that she will take her business elsewhere. Now my chain are pretty big in England, so if a customer wants to slap me around with a 'customer is always right' the script dictates that I do everything in my power to make sure they come back, and Cthulu knows this, well: I'm stressed, I don't like her face and she's given me an opportunity for me to give her the polite 'fuck off'. All I say is 'Good' and move on to the next customer. Hitler-lite phones my corporation to voice a complaint, so a suit comes out and asks the team who did it, I fess up so I can save the time and not have a reason to hate one of my co-workers. I get a lecture and a warning, the end. Question: The incident the worker described probably lasted: Options: - a few minutes - not enough information - over a year - 2 hours === The correct answer is
(A).
a few minutes

(Q).
I am always one to at least finish my shift if that happens then talking to my agency if it is agency work or some higher up boss if not. Never mind employers can ask you to leave at any time. After all, job hunting is a huge inconvenience. There is ONE exception to this rule: NOT GETTING PAID. I am not talking about if accounting messes up and you have to wait an extra day or two to get paid. If you are a good employer, I won't be happy, but I am understanding. I am talking refusing to pay or being even rumored to be not paying. I am not in the volunteer business for business owners. Only happened once I thought I had a part timer gig being a waiter at an over-priced tourist trap restaurant in the New Orleans French Quarter. As typical for these type of jobs, you do not get to actually wait tables and get tips till a training period is over. Somehow, I did not get the memo that this place did not have "training" but "auditions", meaning all that silverware I rolled and floors I mopped and food I ran to tables I was not getting paid for! Add to that, if somehow they did not like me, after a week I would not have a job! Now, I understand actors and actresses go to auditions and not get paid all the time. I've known a few amateur actors. But, those auditions do not include showing up for a week to work unpaid so maybe you might get hired from talking to them And waiters don't do auditions! I left immediately. I think they owed me 30 bucks for half a day's work at the minimum wage. Tried to go back threatening labor board and all that, but they would not be intimidated. They said there was no record of me being there and to get off property. I wrote it off to bad experience and started working another place that I had been interviewing with. Much better job. Question: What is the gender of the author? Options: - Transgender - Female - not enough information - Male === The correct answer is
(A).
Female