Michael Morzeny put his hands into the pockets of his overcoat and hugged the fabric tighter around his body. The winter wind hurried down Columbus Avenue and the hem of his coat flapped around his knees letting little pockets of cold waft up to invade the warmth his body had spent so much time preparing and storing around his torso. With a bitter squeeze of his hands, his knuckles now getting cold, Morzeny bowed his square shoulders to the wind and continued walking. At sixty-seven years old the New York winters bothered Morzeny more than he cared to admit. And, although no doctor would admit it to him, he was positive that the first faint hints of arthritis tweaking through his hands were made worse by the cold. At every cross street the setting sun flashed through to the avenue in shades of crisp pink and red. Morzeny didn't want to be working right now. But these outings were the price he paid for having a hybrid job, owning buildings and brokering as many of his own leases as possible. When he had first come to the city he had been told that he needed a job, not for income, his providers took care of that, but for his own sanity. Something to keep him going. He had asked for something in real estate and had never bothered to wonder what other paths he might have taken. He had always been able to focus to the point of blindness. It helped him in every aspect of his work. He arrived at the brownstone building housing the apartment he was to show tonight. His building was tucked into a short row of buildings that squatted over the street, their steps reaching towards the curb like stunted growths. More to prove to himself that he could do it than anything else, Morzeny took the front steps two at a time. Question: How long did Morzeny's walk probably take? Options: A. 15 minutes B. All day C. 2 hours D. not enough information === The correct answer is
A

I was about 14 and lived near a large tract of undeveloped land where people would go and park to fool around. There was a dirt road through the tract, but further down, it crossed two huge concrete pipes. The dirt was washed out between them, and the deep gulch made it impossible to cross in a car. Sometimes, eight or ten of us would go looking for parked cars. If we found one or more, we would go move this incredibly heavy stump onto the road and lay a telephone pole across it. It took all of us and it was incredibly heavy. It was impossible to drive around it because of the ditches and there was no way two or three people could move it. We'd go back to the car and set off a big string of fire crackers or shake the cat and slap on it and run like crazy. We'd watch from the woods as they drove like heck and come to a screeching stop at our roadblock. The guy would get out and try to lift the pole. Never happen. Then the car would drive the other way. That wouldn't happen because of the pipes. We'd go home leaving them in there. This was before cell phones, and it was miles to a pay phone. We'd go back the next day and find the stump and pole moved. We thought it was real funny until one night we set it up and beat on the trunk of a car. A couple was inside, getting it on. We hadn't noticed a guy sitting on the hood with a bottle of booze and a pistol. As we ran, he was shooting and we could hear bullets going through the underbrush. No one was hit, thank goodness. That was the end of that stunt. Question: Where do the boy go after the stunt? Options: A. Back to their homes B. not enough information C. Back to the park D. Back to the cars === The correct answer is
A

Q: "That'll be $9.87." Rebecca Ranghorn flipped up the top of the box, pulled out a glazed donut, and took bite. The young secretary behind her looked on in disbelief. She was so ready for the weekend. But first she had to get to the office and put in her lousy eight hours. Why couldn't this woman just pay and get out of the way? Rebecca tossed the box at the clerk. A couple of donuts flew out and fell on the floor behind the counter. "Those are yesterday's donuts. I told you to give me the fresh ones." "But, ma'am, these are the fresh--." The look in her eyes stopped him cold. He dumped the box in the trash and picked out a fresher dozen. "Now, that'll be $9.87, please." "Keep your drawers on, Jack." She sampled the new batch. "That's more like it." She threw a ten dollar bill on the counter and walked out with her donuts and large bottle of orange juice. Her enormous black 1979 Lincoln Continental Town Car was four feet longer and twice the weight of the young secretary's Toyota Corolla parked next to it. It was costing her a fortune to drive her dad's old car. But it made her feel close to him--even though he had been dead for eleven years. She rarely had an occasion to drive out of town--and it was not a big town. Sherman, Texas has about 36,000 residents. She pulled into the old strip mall parking lot. Most of the stores and other businesses were barely hanging on. The place hadn't seen decent shopping traffic since the 1980s. But it was the perfect location for Rebecca and her partner. They didn't need shoppers. All they needed was cheap office space. Theirs was narrow, but deep, with a reception area, two offices and a bathroom. Question: Who said that the donuts were fresh? Options: A. Rebecca B. not enough information C. The secretary D. The clerk === The correct answer is
A: D

Q: Companies, communities, families, clubs, and other clumps of humans all have some inherent social dynamics. At a simple level there are leaders and followers, but in reality the lines are rarely as clear as that. Many leaders, with a common example being some founders, have tremendous vision and imagination, but lack the skills to translate that vision into actionable work. Many followers need structure to their efforts, but are dynamic and creative in the execution. Thus, the social dynamic in organizations needs a little more nuance. This is where traditional management hierarchies break down in companies. You may have your SVPs, then your VPs, then your Senior Directors, then your Directors, and so on, but in reality most successful companies don't observe those hierarchies stringently. In many organizations a junior-level employee who has been there for a while can have as much influence and value, if not more, than a brand new SVP. As such, the dream is that we build organizations with crisp reporting lines but in which all employees feel they have the ability to bring their creativity and ideas to logically influence the scope, work, and culture of the organization. Sadly, this is where many organizations run into trouble. It seems to be the same 'ol story time after time: as the organization grows, the divide between the senior leadership and the folks on the ground widens. Water cooler conversations and bar-side grumblings fuel the fire and resentment, frustrations, and resume-editing often sets in. So much of this is avoidable though. Of course, there will always be frustration in any organization: this is part and parcel of people working together. Nothing will be perfect, and it shouldn't befrustration and conflict can often lead to organizations re-pivoting and taking a new approach. I believe though, that there are a lot of relatively simple things we can do to make organizations feel more engaging. Question: John ate the cake Options: A. during the wedding B. before the wedding C. not enough information D. after the wedding === The correct answer is
A: D