input: OPTIONS:
- Afraid
- Shy
- not enough information
- Assertive Now, answer this 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. Question: What sort of person is narrator likely to be? === The answer to the above question is
A:
output: Assertive

With regular money now coming in from the Guardian column, my regular contributions to other publications and the modest subscription revenue from The Friday Thing, I had been living something of the high life since arriving in London. I had started hanging out with the great and the good of the dot com world: attending launch parties for new sites, going to parties to celebrate them staying in business for a whole year, eating their lunches, drinking their booze and learning their secrets while they tried to convince me to write about them in my column. Many of these online entrepreneurs had become my friends and I'd managed to find myself a new girlfriend - Maggie, a Welsh journalist who was a restaurant reviewer for a food and drink website. This was a brilliant blag: it meant we could eat at some of London's best restaurants and never pay a penny. Life was wonderful: The Friday Thing and the Guardian column meant that my plan to use the Internet to become hugely famous and successful was firmly on track, I'd made lots of new friends, and, on top of all that, I was getting laid and eating gourmet food for free. Even Sam Lewis was jealous, and he was rich. Meanwhile, the people I was writing about were not having such an easy time of it. 2003 was a really strange time to be covering the 'new media' industry - mainly because no one was really sure for how long there would be an industry left to cover. The dot com boom of 1999 seemed like a millennium ago: a period in history as crazy as the tulip craze or the South Sea Bubble look to us now. The first signs of trouble for the industry had come in 2000. As the century turned, so had the market and - to use the parlance of analysts - the boom had turned out to be a bubble. And then the bubble had burst. Question: Who is Sam Lewis === The answer to the above question is

OPTIONS:
- The main character's best friend
- The main character's brother
- not enough information
- The main character's boss

Answer: not enough information

Christopher Warm had a sedentary job. On his keyboard he typed various letters and numbers, which would become computer programs. In his company he was known as Office Desk, because when he was working he always sat behind his well-used piece of conference table standing in a hard to notice corner in the software specialists' room. Christopher wasn't a wide person, and so his piece of conference table didn't have to be too big either, which also practically solved office space problems in the 0-1 Computer firm. It was Warm's secret that the majority of his time outside of the company, he also spent behind a desk. On his keyboard he typed various letters and numbers, which would become computer programs for the 0-1 Computer Associates company. While the Man Called Office Desk (MCOD, or simply Cod in an alternative version) was writing an intuitive program for the management of empty office desk space in software companies, a thing that nobody had ever expected to happen happened. Warm became fused with the chair. The staff at 0-1 Computer were disappointed, they had expected Cod to fuse with a desk. It would have been much more entertaining to watch, you could have laughed at him a little, and the nickname, given to him by the programmers' boss would have gotten a whole new meaning. And right now, there wasn't even much to talk about during cigarette breaks. Warm did not hide the fact he would have preferred to fuse with a mouse, or a mouse pad. Right now, all he could do was to pretend he totally ignored the fact he was physically stuck to a chair. And he was doing just fine until it was time to go to his second shift at 1-0 Computer Associates, where he had been working on a program for the management of empty space in staff lockers in telecommunications companies. Question: Christopher probably lived this way for === The answer to the above question is
OPTIONS:
- Months
- Weeks
- not enough information
- Years

Answer:
Years