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. Why did she confess? A. Because she felt that she had done nothing wrong B. not enough information C. To save time, and so as not to have a reason to hate a co-worker D. Because she was angry
C

(Question)
Earlier this year my depression got very bad, very quickly. I'd been having intrusive suicidal thoughts for a while. It was a combination of a bad medication regimen and lots of little stressorsschool, work, a car accident, you name it. I took to a very private social media account that only those I was closest to could see. I used that account to rant about my problems. It was my coping mechanism and how I kept myself sane. Somehow just typing it out got it off my chest in ways writing in a journal couldn't (now, I try to use Quora for this purpose instead). One night in early March I went to a performance that my friends were part of. I went alone. While I was there, I got a series of texts regarding my girlfriend. I knew that what those texts said would cause me an immense amount of stress and sleepless nights. I went onto my social media account. I don't remember exactly what I posted. It wasn't specific, but rather something along the lines of "I'm stressed, this is the cherry on top, I honestly don't know how I'm going to handle this." Whatever it was, someone who followed that account knew I was at my breaking point. They called an anonymous tip line and reported that they believed I was in danger of killing myself. I got home from the performance at midnight and my dad was in my driveway. I asked him why. He told me he'd been contacted and that someone reported a concern about me. I was admitted to the hospital the next day, and I spent a week an an inpatient psychiatric unit where I received better medication, therapy and coaching on positive coping mechanisms. Whoever called saved me, but in a way I saved my own life that day. What I thought was just another routine post about stress got me the help I so desperately needed. I know without it, I would have ended my own life that day. Funny how that works. He received texts regarding his girlfriend: A. During the performance B. Before the performance C. After the performance D. not enough information
(Answer)
A

Ques: Before writing what I did and what he did please let me tell you I was just a teenagerand it all seemed new, so kindly don't judge me. Even if you want to..I am anonymous for the same reason. So this happened when I was 16 year old. I belong to a very humble and conservative family, from Indore. @I never had a lot of exposure to guys, until we went to attend a marriage of one of our wealthy relatives in Delhi.. it was one of the best times I had, as we had a group of 45 similar aged cousins, though most of them were very distant relatives. One of them was a 19 year old dude, and he was kind of cute. But I never thought I would have this urge to you know it was teenage and everything seemed new and exciting. So the second day, after having roamed all around Noida, we finally returned to our hotel and that guy accompanied me to my room. I asked him if he wants to come in as my parents were involved in the late night Sangeet rehearsals. He nodded gently and before I could know, we were cuddling and watching TV. I felt like a rebel, though it was the strangest and least expected thing I had done. Then he kissed me. Before I knew it I let him in my mouth and he kept rolling his tongue on mine. It was my first kiss, and I don't regret it. The warmth of his mouth, the wetness of his lips and his breath felt like the only thing I ever wanted. I was a teen so please not judge. Sadly before we could proceed, rest of our cousins called us to play Antakhshree with them. Never have we met since, but we often exchange messages on Facebook. It will be hard and awkward to attend his marriage. I love him. After the end of the story, the author probably: A. stops talking to her cousin B. continues talking to her cousin C. kisses him again D. not enough information
Ans: B

"Hey, Natalie! Nice sweatshirt!" I was passing through the hallways of school last year, being messenger boy for the teachers, when this girl walked up to me. I had no clue who she was, but I thought she was a year younger than me. That's why I thought it was weird that she said my name. But the "nice sweatshirt" bit was what really got me. I wasn't even wearing my sweatshirt. So. There was a substitute teacher in my literacy class, so my class was split. half of us did actual work, and the other half watched a documentary. Ben, Evan, Isabelle and myself were put together in the class watching the super boring documentary. We got bored, so, when Ben left the classroom for a bit and left his jacket behind, I don't remember why, but, I put on his sweatshirt and traded it for mine. This turned into everyone swapping sweatshirts for the next hour until school was out. At one point I was called to the office to deliver a message to a different classroom. I walked out of the office with the information, and turned around at the sound of my name. "Hey, Natalie! Nice sweatshirt!" I smiled and thanked her like the nice human being I want people to think I am. Once she started down the stairs I looked down at my sweatshirt. Black and orange? Nike? But my sweatshirt's gray and purple! Then I remembered our little game of "try not to get caught swapping sweatshirts and giggling". I wasn't wearing my sweatshirt. Someone else had it. I was wearing Evan's. It's also kind of sad because that was one of the only compliments I've gotten from a stranger all year. Complimented on something that wasn't even mine Welcome to my life, everybody! Who complimented Natalie on her sweatshirt? A. a classmate B. the substitute teacher C. not enough information D. the girl in the hallway
D