Q: Shortly after five, the hospital called. More precisely, the emergency room phoned to ask if Ray had a bed. Ray pretended to consult his admission log, just as he always did. The nightly hospital call meant one of three things: the chemical dependency floor was full (highly unlikely), the individual in question had fallen under the hospital's "one treatment episode every three months" sanction (also known as the Black List, and only moderately unlikely), or the prospective client had no insurance (in Ray's experience, very likely). The folks at the hospital knew, as did Ray, that federal law prohibited him from turning away individuals requesting detoxification services if he had an open bed. The hospital was generous enough to spring for a cab voucher for the intoxicate. In Ray's experience as well, overnight admissions were less interested in detox than in free food, a free bed and complimentary meds. For his two hour paperwork investment and aggravation, he would receive the benefit of knowing the client slept until noon then slipped out the side door and into another binge. Any bills for service generated for the brief stay would return in a week or so stamped "No Such Address" or simply "Return to Sender". On average, the clients of addictions services managed to muster a raging 25% of them who would ever pay a dime toward their bill. The night shift admission payment percentages were a quarter of that quarter in good years. Thus, the frequent calls from the hospital. They had little better luck in getting good addresses (or even with those, a client who stayed sober long enough to give a shit). No one relished treating the uninsured and uninsurable. It was fiscal suicide. The hospital was perfectly willing to let the local experts in deadbeats handle the workload. Tonight, Ray could tell them no. He liked telling them no, especially when it was the truth. Question: Who checked the admissions log? Options: A. Ray B. not enough information C. the hospital D. a patient === The correct answer is
A: A

Q: TL:DR: I un-professionally get mad at a customer and verbally slam the door on her way out. I was working a shift at a chain cafe one afternoon in England, it was during the lunch rush, so we had a back up of customers lined up to the exit. See the problem with the chain is that all of our customers mostly range from midlife crisis to half-a-foot in the grave, so once a customer lines up, they don't leave and they extend the queue. Plus this is a chain cafe so I've got a manager who's constantly on my back to speed up because someone is on her back to drive numbers up: this results in the line putting stress on my air-hostess smile, but they don't call it work for nothing. Now I'm not the only one stressed, a customer lines up during lunch, they're hungry and wish that Euclidean laws would suspend themselves so that they did not have to deal with the fact that I can't deal with a customer at the speed of light. Well one eldritch horror declares that my coffee took too long and does her rendition of the 1933 Hitler speech to the rest of the customers with an addendum that she will take her business elsewhere. Now my chain are pretty big in England, so if a customer wants to slap me around with a 'customer is always right' the script dictates that I do everything in my power to make sure they come back, and Cthulu knows this, well: I'm stressed, I don't like her face and she's given me an opportunity for me to give her the polite 'fuck off'. All I say is 'Good' and move on to the next customer. Hitler-lite phones my corporation to voice a complaint, so a suit comes out and asks the team who did it, I fess up so I can save the time and not have a reason to hate one of my co-workers. I get a lecture and a warning, the end. Question: The incident the worker described probably lasted: Options: A. a few minutes B. not enough information C. over a year D. 2 hours === The correct answer is
A: A

Q: OLD TOWN - the heart and soul of Key West and the place most visitors spend their time - is only one mile by two. The Crew's house by the cemetery was less than half a mile from where they'd last seen Winston. Walking, it might've taken ten minutes to get there, but on Chloe's Vespa it was a hair-raising three-minute ride away. When they got there, Paul saw no sign of either Winston or Lily, so he assumed they were still inside the rundown shack that passed for a gallery. They parked a block away and approached at a brisk walk, Paul almost jogging to keep up with Chloe's excited strides. Winston was Chloe's mentor in what they referred to as "The Life," this being a euphemism for a whole range of different activities, groups and lifestyles that fell under the general category of living underground and off the information grid. Paul, after defrauding his former partners and then running afoul of the law in a very public way, had been living The Life for almost a year and a half now. Chloe, as near as he could tell, had been doing it for almost a decade. Winston had started in the late '60s as a 16-year-old member of the notorious Weather Underground. He not only led his own Crew, he was also in contact with dozens, maybe scores of other such groups all over the world, including Chloe and Paul's little Crew of four. On top of all that, he'd once taken a couple bullets while helping Paul out, so, like Chloe, Paul had a soft spot in his heart for the old man. They hadn't seen him since that bloody night, but Chloe had been in communication with him off and on over the last sixteen months. Winston and his Crew were old school and didn't trust much in the way of electronic communications. Mostly it had been encoded, hand-delivered letters and arcane classified ads in various newspapers. Chloe found this particular breed of paranoia on Winston's part annoying, but Paul admired it. Question: Chloe belives what behavior is annoying? Options: A. Winston's paranoia about receiving communications. B. not enough information C. Paul's jogging to the Crew's house. D. Living off the grid. === The correct answer is
A: A