input: OPTIONS:
- Before he did not follow Luna's directions.
- not enough information
- When his gas tank was pushing "F".
- After he made the wrong turn and got low on gas. Now, answer this question: 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. Question: When did the individual got to the gas station? === The answer to the above question is
A:
output: After he made the wrong turn and got low on gas.

I was fencing wire at Flat Broke Acres and trying to tighten up the wire a bit. I lost the grip of the fencing wire and the pliers smacked me in the mouth. This is what I hit myself in the mouth with. The curved end glance off my left front central incisor. It hurt some, my lips were lacerated, I scared my wife when I came in to take a look at it in the mirror but the pain to come was far worse. Tooth was intact thank goodness and was a bit wobbly and I said to myself yup, this could be a problem. A month or two later I hit it again when I was putting a portable step fence panel in the bed of the truck and it bounced and split the bridge of my nose and hit the tooth again. did not break or get displaced. Thank goodness I have a particularly thick head. Tooth trauma is a strange thing. It can blow up anywhere up to a year later. So almost 6 months later I was flying to a meeting in Orlando and of course the tooth decided to react to changes in atmospheric pressure just so I could experience the exquisite pain of barodontalgia. Kind of pain that makes you want to pry the top of your head off with a pitchfork because it would take your mind off the pain. Problem was it did not resolve after landing or anytime during the 4 days I was at the meeting. A combo regimen of acetaminophen and ibuprofen manage the pain well enough until I could get home and have it seen to. Pain did not end but the Xray showed no fracture or endodontic lesion. Strange. Then as suddenly as it occurred, the pain ceased. Strange x 2. Snapped another film and there was no pathology. Tooth was vital on pulp testing. So I did nothing more. I chalked it up to it being a karmic reminder about patients and dental pain as I've never had a cavity let alone a dental abscess. It let me feel your pain. Question: Who did he scare? === The answer to the above question is

OPTIONS:
- His tooth
- not enough information
- The dentist
- His wife

Answer: His wife

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. Question: Who did narrator talk to about his new job responsibilities? === The answer to the above question is
OPTIONS:
- His manager
- His friend
- not enough information
- His wife

Answer:
His manager