Problem: OPTIONS:
- she was shampoo girl
- she was a hairdresser
- she was a teacher
- not enough information
Q: Read the following context and answer the question. Context: My mother's first career was as a beautician. Growing up, she cut everyone in our family's hair; she dyed mine whenever I wanted, and whatever crazy color I wanted, too. Until I was a senior in high school, I had never been to a salon. I don't even remember why I went this time. Mom was going to have her hair done, and I had tagged along. She asked if I wanted a cut too and I said why not? So while Mom was getting her hair done I looked through the books and picked out a cute pageboy style that I liked. Finally it was my turn and after talking with the stylist and showing her what I wanted, she led me to the shampoo station. Now, as everybody who has ever been to a salon knows, you sit back in the chair with your neck in the indentation and they wash your hair. But I had never been to a salon. When mom washed my hair after dyeing it, I always leaned over the sink. So I started to climb into the chair and lean over the sink here, too. My mom was mortified and the stylist couldn't figure out what in the heck I was doing. Mom calls out, "No, Jennifer you sit in the chair." I look over my shoulder at her and then realize what I've done. Red-faced, I stand up and then turn around to sit and lean back in the chair. I honestly wanted to die right there. I'm pretty sure the stylist thought I was developmentally delayed or something because she talked to me for the rest of the time like one would talk to a three-year-old. Mom tried to explain that I'd never been to a salon before, but I think that just made the situation worse. Thankfully I've been to many salons now and understand how everything works, but I've never returned to THAT one. Question: What did Jennifer's mother do for a living? Answer:
Answer: she was a hairdresser

Problem:OPTIONS:
- Just before she found out
- After her mom died
- While her mother was dying
- not enough information

Read the following context and answer the question. Context: Yes, after my mother died I found out from my supposed half-sister that my dad was not my birth father. She was 19 yrs older than me and had been living in Colorado since I was young. I was born and raised in N.J. I did not see her she did not come to see us. I was grown, married, had children and was living in FL. when she showed up at my door with her husband. I was shocked since we never heard from her and I did not know she even knew where I lived. She stayed all of about 20 minutes, just long enough to very unpleasantly state that "my father is NOT your father and I am NOT your sister!" I always wondered why my mom hated me SO much, I found out that both my mom and "dad" were having affairs while married and both had children by someone else. I have never met my birth father (to my knowledge) only know his name, but understand that he was the father of my supposed half-brother (which would make him my only whole sibling out of seven siblings.) Obviously my oldest "half-brother", who is 20 yrs older than me, is not actually related to me either. I don't have for sure "proof" about my other siblings, but they all have strong resemblances to my "dad" and each other. Growing up people would comment about how much I looked like my mom but I also was told a lot that you would never know me and my other sisters were sisters, we used to laugh about it as kids because my sisters (all light haired/light skinned) and I (dark haired/deeper skin toned) were very different in appearance but we "knew" we were sisters. I also found out that my apparently ONLY whole brother, approximately 9 yrs older than me, did not even know his real fathers name even though he knew our "dad" was not his birth father. Question: When did her supposed half sister show up at her door? Answer:
****
A: After her mom died

input: OPTIONS:
- my father
- not enough information
- my sister
- my mother Now, answer this question: Read the following context and answer the question. Context: 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: who was the Ambassador Answer:
A:
output:
my father