(Question)
Let's rewind to January 2013 for a moment. It's a sunny and warm day in Los Angelesa bit of a weather shock to me after 11 years of Seattle's cold and rain. I've been officially on the job in the web department for all of 12 hours. I'm sitting in a conference room at a big wooden table, surrounded by my new coworkers and team members in the Getty's web group. A big monitor is displaying the prototype of the newly designed and almost-built Getty Iris. We're discussing The Iris logo you see at the top of this page, its multiple iterations, and, quite frankly, the pain involved in trying to get it to look right. Wait-wait-wait, let's pause for a moment. My name is Will Lanni. I'm a Web production specialist at the Getty, which is a complex way of saying I'm a developer and designer, which is a nice way of saying that I'm basically a "web monkey." Before I started at the Getty, I worked as a partner in a small web design and development firm for several years. I had some experience working for the GettyI built the Pacific Standard Time at the Getty site, the Pacific Standard Time Festival site, as well as the interactive Getty Impact map. And, at the time of my hiring, I was not only working on the new design and build of The Iris, due to go live in only a month, but also the soon-to-be-launched website for Pacific Standard Time Presents: Modern Architecture in L.A. So I wasn't exactly new to projects at the Getty, even though I was a brand-spanking-new full-time employee. OK. Now that you know who I am, let's get back to that moment. The Iris logo, and the hair-pulling it was causing for all of uswhich is a pretty good representation of the steps that Web projects go through as we move from idea, to execution, to setback, to solution. Who was a Web Production specialist at the Getty? A. Getty Iris B. not enough information C. Will Lanni D. Will Jones
(Answer)
C

(Question)
Mr. Drake hurried into the trailer, and Ethorne, Gwenny, Johnny Tepes, and I looked up as Mrs. DeLyon followed him. He looked at me. "Where would Digger go?" I shrugged and blinked. The question made no sense; Digger would not go anywhere. When he slept, he slept for ten hours. You could toss him around like a sack of potatoes, and he would not wake up. With one exception. "Bathroom?" Mrs. DeLyon shook her head. "No." Mr. Drake said, "And he's not in any of the beds. We looked in all three." Mrs. DeLyon said, "And under them. And I called for him. He wouldn't hide from me, would he?" I shook my head. Ethorne got up, went to the door, and shouted, "Digger! Where is you, Digger-boy? You don't need to hide no more. Everything's fine now!" The dogs barked in response, but no person answered. Mrs. DeLyon said, "Call Dr. Lamont. Maybe Susan put him in the backseat and forgot to tell us." Mr. Drake's voice held as little hope for that as Mrs. DeLyon's, but he said, "All right." Mrs. DeLyon said, "We'll get Chris to bed in the meantime." "I'm in charge," I said. Ethorne said, "When there's nothing you can do, you might as well sleep. Save your strength for when you need it." Mrs. DeLyon said, "Don't worry. At least one of us will stay in the trailer until your folks get back." Gwenny said, "C'mon, boyfriend. I'll see you to your bed." I said, "I can go by myself." Gwenny looked at Mrs. DeLyon, then at Johnny Tepes. "Well, that's a blow to a girl's ego." They smiled without much humor, and Mr. Drake hung up the phone. Ethorne said, "What is it?" Mr. Drake said, "Let's get Chris to bed first." I stood and went to the door. "G'night." Where did they look for Digger? A. His bed B. cold bathroom C. Chris' bedroom D. not enough information
(Answer)
A

(Question)
In his lifetime, Ray had done a number of things for which he was not proud, things he'd like to see just as well stuffed down a dark hole. Everybody had things of which they were ashamed. Everybody has committed their share of sins that they wish they could take back. But this wasn't one of them, and he resented the implication that it was -- the implication that someone would dare to judge him for something they did not fully understand. It was a good thing, a right thing, like the time he had given emergency CPR to the woman already ten minutes dead and gone, the woman whose mouth tasted of chocolate death and scrambled eggs, just to spare her horrified children the sense of helplessness while waiting for the ambulance to arrive. That had been a noble thing like this one was. Should have been. Perhaps it was always less difficult to have things fail here, with the living, than it was with the dead. The dead had no opinions, no agendas. They weren't sensitive. The dead did what you fucking told them to do and didn't complain. Right? The living simply did not understand that there were rules. They didn't want to understand something so banal. Someone who didn't take the time to understand the rules had no right to pass judgment on him. Not that it ever stopped them. "I hear that you are unhappy," he said into the phone, then had to pull the receiver away from his ear so the woman on the other end could scream at him some more. Conflict de-escalation technique number one was invariably affirmation. Make it clear that you are aware of the individual's feelings and frustrations, that you are at least listening to their side, whether or not you personally may eventually have the authority to validate or alleviate those feelings. People liked to be listened to. The illusion of having a voice was almost as good as actually having one. Isn't that why people still bothered to go to the polls on election day and vote? And it worked on most people. This woman was not one of them. How long has Ray probably been on the phone? A. Few days B. not enough information C. Over a week D. Few Minutes
(Answer)
D