*Question*
"That's Glenn Miller," my father said. "But it can't be." He had the back of the hospital bed cranked upright, the lower lid of his left eye creeping up in a warning signal I'd learned to recognize as a child. My older sister Ann had settled deep in the recliner, and she glared at me too, blaming me for winding him up. The jam box sat on the rolling tray table and my father was working the remote as he talked, backing up my newly burned CD and letting it spin forward to play a few seconds of low fidelity trombone solo. "You know the tune, of course," he said. "'King Porter Stomp.'" Those childhood years of listening to him play Glenn Miller on the console phonograph were finally paying off. "He muffed the notes the same way on the Victor version." "So why can't it be Miller?" I asked. "He wouldn't have played with a rabble like that." The backup musicians teetered on the edge of chaos, playing with an abandon somewhere between Dixieland and bebop. "They sound drunk." My father had a major emotional investment in Miller. He and my mother had danced to the Miller band at Glen Island Casino on Long Island Sound in the summer of 1942, when they were both sixteen. That signature sound of clarinet and four saxes was forever tied up for him with first love and the early, idealistic months of the war. But there was a better reason why it couldn't have been Miller playing that solo. If the date on the original recording was correct, he was supposed to have died three days earlier. The date was in India ink on a piece of surgical tape, stuck to the top of a spool of recording wire. The handwritten numerals had the hooks and day-first order of Europe: 18/12/44. I'd won it on eBay the week before as part of a lot that included a wire recorder and a stack of 78s by French pop stars like Charles Trenent and Edith Piaf. Why was listening to Glenn Miller so important to my father? Pick the correct answer from the following options: - he liked jazz - it reminded him of his youth - not enough information - The backup singers sounded drunk and it reminded him of home.
**Answer**
it reminded him of his youth

*Question*
It's axiomatic that all cultures reserve a special place for food in their daily and social lives. For something as simple as a cuppa joe, we schedule and juggle our time to meet at predetermined locations to share conversation and libation. Meals require even more effort and the social ramifications increase. One is expected to show up on time, sometimes dress to certain standards and bring one or many bottles of wine as a thoughtful gift to the hosts. And of course, the food is just an excuse to get together with friends to enjoy a meal, share stories, to discuss or seduce, to seal an agreement or act as a prelude to a severance of relations (frequently unintentionally). I was first introduced to dining for pleasure as opposed to sustenance while at the University of New Brunswick. I lived in Bridges House, one of the men's residences. The young, eager, bright-eyed students in each residence were kept more or less in check by a Don. Each residence had its share of maniacs and troublemakers who were at university to get some form of education, alcohol poisoning or a social disease; sometimes all three. The Don's job was to act as a mentor and prison warden. Imagine a building housing up to 100 young adult men. It doesn't take much to start a riot. In our case, the Don was Locutus. When we met him, he must have been in his forties but looked to us adolescents to be older than Father Time. He was immediately dubbed 'Grandpa Munster'. With the tender sensitivity of males of our age, we didn't bother to hide this from him and he took it in good humour. In point of fact, Locutus was a great Don; firm when he needed to be and understanding and helpful as appropriate. You crossed this guy at your peril, but he was generally pretty tolerant. Locutus was probably the Don of the residence for how long? Pick the correct answer from the following options: - not enough information - Several years - a few days - just for the week
**Answer**
Several years

*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. What is more likely to offend the narrator? Pick the correct answer from the following options: - You can learn from this person more - You should just grow up and learn on your own - not enough information - You can benefit from this article
**Answer**
not enough information