The sighting of a killer whale (or orca) can be rare, but they do love to hunt and play in the waters between Vancouver and Seattle, so one of the activities we absolutely wanted to do (in addition to the harbour seaplane flight) was to go whale watching. Just South of Vancouver, in the quaint Historic fishing village of Steveston we hopped aboard our boat, and spent the day on the water cruising the coast looking for whales, other marine mammals and seabirds. The regular chug-chug-chug of the boat motor for a couple of hours lulled me into a meditate state as we sped our way over the State line from Vancouver, back down to the waters of Washington State. The shimmer of the water all dappled in the sunlight, the slow, measured tones of our guide and snuggling into my warm jacket against the sharp breeze off the coast was just enough to make me forget my worries, and zone out from all of my modern day dilemmas. Honestly, it needs to be prescribed on the NHS. Forget hauling yoga mats and sitting in sweaty concrete rooms with patterns trying to hide the utilitarian backdrop, just hop on a boat out from Vancouver. Not having much success closer to the British Columbia shores, our captain decided to head south past the Canadian/American border. Incredibly, the resident killer whales of the San Juan Islands are the most studied whales in the world; they, in turn, have observed humans for at least six thousand years. Stable family groups, called pods, represent several generations and include grandmothers (the pod leaders), adolescents, infants, and huge bulls. Each family member is recognized by its distinctive markings and can live as long as a human. Much of what is known about the orca whale's highly-organized social life has been learned from the resident pods in the San Juan Islands of Washington. Question: What is probably true about the narrator? === The answer to the above question is
OPTIONS:
- He has a lot of free time
- He likes nature
- He is a Canadian
- not enough information

Answer: He likes nature

Question: Was it the things she told me or the situation I was in? I was working with someone who, basically, should never have been hired into the job, and then should not have been kept as long as she was. She was entirely inadequate for the role we performed. I was a new graduate and so lucky to get a job in my field, pretty much right out of university. We worked in a small office of three. The third was a sales rep and out visiting clients most of the time. She was, more or less, my superior, though the company made it clear that she was not someone to emulate yet gave me no one else to look to for advice or guidance. She would constantly say "this place will leave you to sink or swim" (amongst other phrases, all along these lines). That's probably the worst saying ever, though I can't really consider it ridiculous because, frankly, I absolutely see why she would say that (for example, I met my manager once during my interview and then the next time was about four months into being hired that should tell you the level of support given). But I cannot even explain to you the way this statement biased me against this company and the job I was doing. I was lost and truly believed that I couldn't do any better (because I was sinking and couldn't figure out how to swim on my own). Yes, you may have issues in whatever job your in but to tell a newbie that they have to figure it out on their own that's pretty ridiculous. If this is something you hear or think and asking others for help or finding a supportive environment is not an option try replacing it with "learn to fly on the way down". At the very least, you won't have such a negative frame of mind. Question: When did the narrator meet their manager after the interview? === The answer to the above question is
OPTIONS:
- Four months later
- Two months later
- not enough information
- 1 week later
Answer: Four months later

Question: November always dragged around the station, but today was one dead Sunday. Not one car pulled off the interstate all morning. Nothing hit the drive but a thin steady rain, puddling slow rainbows in the oil. Me and Harnie just tilted back our chairs against the cigarette rack, watched the monster movie, and waited for the game to start. The big flying turtle was about set to barbeque downtown Tokyo when the drive bell rang, and up sluiced a car so damn gorgeous it hurt to look at it. A '37 Buick Roadmaster it was, painted a red so rich it was nearly black, that straight eight engine whispering like a lover while teardrops of rain rolled down the chrome grill. Out climbed this tall fellow, dressed like God's grandpa done up for a wedding or a funeral. His skin was brown as a buckwheat cake, with creases deep as drainage ditches. Took a mighty long stretch of sweat and toil, love and birth and dying, to carve a face like that. He flexed his shoulders, then rolled his neck till it cracked. He pulled a pack of Camel straights from inside his vest and flipped one out. "Got a light?" His voice was deep and warm, half gravel, half honey. I tossed him a pack of matches through the open door; he caught it left-handed, then flipped it open, folded over a match, and struck it with his thumb. "This the town with the dead fiddler?" he said after a long drag on the smoke. "You might say so," I said, ignoring the look Harnie gave me. Nobody talked about her; I wondered how this fellow had even heard about her. "Ain't a fiddle, though. It's a cello, like in the symphony." The stranger shrugged. "Close enough." "She ain't d-dead, neither," Harnie said. "M-more sleeping, like." He puffed out a wreath of smoke. Then another. "Let's go wake her up," he said. "You best not try, mister," I said. "She been sleeping for thirty some year." Question: Why was the narrator surprised at the stranger's question? === The answer to the above question is
OPTIONS:
- because he was smoking
- nobody talked about the person in question
- not enough information
- because it was raining
Answer:
nobody talked about the person in question