Q: My then-teenage daughter and I went to a new restaurant. It was empty apart from the manager. We were told to find ourselves a table, so we sat in an attractive area sort of like a small stage. No waitress came by for 10 minutes, so we decided to visit the restroom; there was just one, with one toilet. But a woman rushed in ahead of us, carrying a bundle of clothes. Several minutes later, when she reappeared, we realized this was our waitressarriving late and pushing us customers out of the way so she could change. OK We each used the restroom and returned to our table. But it was not our table anymore. Along came the manager to explain she needed to set aside the stage-like area for a very special group. My daughter and I had already been debating whether to stay or leave. We stayed only because we were very hungry and worried that we'd have to start waiting all over again if we tried a different place. We were led to our new table: a lonely little table in the hall leading to the toilet. I was ready to get out of there, pronto, but my daughter spotted her favorite meal on the menu. But after another 15 minutes, with the lone waitress not appearing, we both shook our heads and got up Oh, here's the waitress! We ordered. Fifteen minutes later, no food. We got up again and exited past the stage-like area, which was just as empty as it had been when we were ejected. The very special people had not arrivedso (had we been served) we could have enjoyed our meal right there. We did find food elsewhere. The first place closed in less than a month. Good riddance! Question: They probably debated whether to stay or leave for: === The answer to the above question is

OPTIONS:
- 3 hours
- not enough information
- 5 minutes
- 2 days

A: 5 minutes

input: OPTIONS:
- 3 minutes
- 2 minutes
- 5 minutes
- not enough information Now, answer this question: "Have you ever been in a situation that was getting out of control and you were able to calm it down before it escalated further? What was the situation and what did you do or say?" As senior members of a Boy Scout Troop, other adults and I had to instruct two younger member on how to recognize and control emotions in the context of conflict. These two guys had a history of conflicts and I knew people won't always be present to control them. They had to grow up and be self-sufficient. On one camping trip they yet again had another heated argument over something trivial that kept escalating. Rather than jump in, I wanted to see how they deescalate the situation on their own. Suddenly, one of them pulls out a pocket knife and says "[insert demand here] or I'm gonna [insert some action with a knife to a person]." The situation has clearly escalated too far. Immediately I rushed in and yelled, "STOP! DROP IT, NOW!" He immediately dropped the knife, sat down, and began crying. What happens after that is irrelevant. Perhaps it's due to my quiet nature and sudden outburst that produced the shock effect. But more importantly the use of straight-forward, succinct commands can control the situation because all parties involved are automatically in natural fight-flight mode where elaborate, long explanations aren't going to be interpreted correctly by listeners for the purposes of deescalating the situation's climax. The long talk comes when the immediate conflict is temporarily resolved. * IMPORTANT NOTE: This incident is not a reflection on the Boy Scout of America, its spirit, or the use of such tools. The pocket knife is commonly used throughout camping trips. We have a set of rules and responsibilities set to the users so that they are used for the camping purposes. As an Eagle Scout myself, I am proud of the values promoted. Question: how long did the argument between the boys go on for? === The answer to the above question is
A:
output: 5 minutes

Problem:OPTIONS:
- not enough information
- before he was one years olds
- from the first day
- After he was three years old

Jimbob Blakey wasn't so much given birth to as clambered right out of his mother himself. He weighed in at almost thirteen pounds, came ready-fitted with a shock of fat black hair and a couple of razor teeth. Jimbob's folks loved him like most folks love their little ones, maybe more. They'd been trying so hard for a child, suffered more mid-term miscarriages than the ewes they shuttled off to market most Thursdays. They dressed him in a one-year babygro and took him home to their hill farm. They fought to get up nights and give him his milk. His teeth made breast-feeding impossible. They sat hours gazing down in his cot. They dressed him fine and took him to their church and gave their thanks. Showed him off like the proud parents they were. Others cooed and smiled. But they never asked to hold. They gave thanks the Blakeys were happy, and that the monkey-baby had not been born to them. Jimbob's folks never gave a second thought that their boy might be different. The first Spring he walked, he stomped the moors in his welly-boots helping herd the pregnant ewes down in-by. He copied his father, kicking and cuffing at the stragglers, when the flock was returned to the hills in May. As Jimbob grew, his hair became thicker, his arms longer. His head shrunk down on his shoulders. At check-ups, nurses fixed smiles and pronounced him healthy. Doctors said, 'he'll make you a strapping lad.' His mother smiled, her heart swelled. When he was three, she sent him to nursery. She wanted him to mix with other kids. To taste life off the hard hills. She said, 'it'll do him the world of good.' Jimbob hated leaving the farm. He clung to his mother. She drove away, blinking tears. On the third day, she took a phone call. 'It's Jimbob,' they said. 'He's scaring the other kids.'The truth hit Jimbob's mother like a hammer. Question: Jimbob scared the other kids: === The answer to the above question is
****
A:
After he was three years old