Write the right answer to the question based on the context passage.

[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: Who's 1933 speech was referred to?
[A]: Hitler's


[Q]: He had a 12" Sony black-and-white, tuned to MTV, sitting on a chair at the end of the bed. He could barely hear it over the fan in the window. He sat in the middle of the bed because of the sag, drumming along absently to Steve Winwood's "Higher Love."
The sticks were Regal Tip 5Bs. They were thinner than 2Bs--marching band sticks--but almost as long. Over the years Stan had moved farther out over the ends. Now the butts of the sticks fit into the heels of his palms, about an inch up from the wrist. He flipped the right stick away when the phone rang.
"Stan, dude! You want to work tomorrow?"
"Yeah, probably. What have you got, Darryl? You don't sound right."
"Does the name Keven Stacey mean anything to you?"
"Wait a minute." Stan switched the phone to his other ear. "Did you say Keven Stacey? As in Foolsgold, Kevin Stacey? She's going to record at CSR?"
"You heard me." Stan could see Darryl sitting in the control room, feet up on the console, wearing double-knit slacks and a T-shirt, sweat coming up on his balding forehead.
"This is some kind of bullshit, right? She's coming in for a jingle or a PSA."
"No bullshit, Stanley. She's cutting a track for a solo album she's going to pitch to Warner's. Not a demo, but a real, honest-to-Christ track. Probably a single. Now if you're not interested, there's plenty of other drummers in LA..."
"I'm interested. I just don't understand why she wants to fuck with a rinky-dink studio like yours. No offense."
"Don't harsh me, bud. She's hot. She's got a song and she wants to put it in the can. Everybody else is booked. You try to get into Record One or Sunset Sound. Not for six months you won't get in. Even if you're Keven Stacey. You listening, Stan?" He heard Darryl hitting the phone on the edge of the console. "That's the Big Time, dude. Knocking on your door." Question: Who was listening to the TV
[A]: Stan


[Q]: Not really that huge a deal, but we laughed about it for a while.
My friends and I went to see the Gin Blossoms in 1993 at a small venue in Chicago. We were having some beers and enjoying the opening band (they were okay, but not memorable) when this guy came and stood right in front of my roommate. I mean, the floor was filling up, sure, but we'd landed a decent spot right in the middle and he came and stood right in front of her when there was plenty of room off to the side a bit.
My roommate and our friend and I looked at each other and were like, "How rude!" Frankly, I was surprised my roommate didn't do or say anything - holding her tongue wasn't her forte. I half expected her to spank his bottom - I'd seen her do it before to get some guy's attention, and this guy was pretty cute. But when that same song came to an end, the guy turned around and actually apologized to all of us. He held up his camera and said he wanted a really good shot of the band as they were friends of his. He actually went and bought each of us a beer, so it totally worked out well. We thanked him and he took off.
The only excuse I have for us is that we were in college and not glued to MTV or entertainment magazines, and really, only Hey Jealousy had hit the airwaves when we went to the concert. But sure enough, when the Gin Blossoms took the stage, Robin Wilson gave a shout out to those three girls he'd blocked the stage for earlier and hoped we'd enjoyed our beers.
Like I said, it's pretty tame, but I thought he handled it with class, so it's always made me remember their music fondly. Question: who turned around
[A]:
A guy to apologize


