Question: Years back, following a transition inside a large company where many people got fired and moved around, the decision was made to give the remaining people more work. Now, let me pause here, when I say, “more work” did not mean more of the existing work they already did. “More work” did not mean work of what they already knew, or signed up for when they were hired. More work meant incorporating a completely different role. For me, I’m a programmer. And “management” decided they wanted programmers to also do BA work. Now, mind you, nowhere on my employment contract does it state I’d have to take a BA role. And nowhere on my employment contract did it state taking a BA role would also require me doing all of my programming work. So, after being pushed a few times to attend BA meetings, I got fed up. So I pulled my manager into a meeting and explained this to him. I said, you have two choices: I do two roles, BA and programmer, and I get a new salary to account for the role. When he asked how much, I said, take my salary and multiply by 1.6. Option 2, I go back to programming, and you never pull me into a meeting again on BA work. It’s not what you hired me for, and it’s not what you pay me for. When my boss replied, “Our company is not in the position to pay for two roles”, I told him, then it sounds like Option 2. And by the way, I don’t ever want to have this discussion again. If you want Superman performance, you cannot pay Clark Kent wages. 1 year passed and I was never bothered again about BA roles. Takeaways: Middle managers are one step above one-celled organisms. They can, and will try to get you to do non-role work, with no intention of ever paying you more. They key is to cut it off at the pass. When people got more work? Pick the correct answer from the following options: - Before people got fired - They got more work every week - After the transition inside a large company - not enough information
Answer: After the transition inside a large company

Question: In this confessional age, TV, radio and print rely for much of their content on the sad stories of those 'victims' of life. The story goes something like this: There is the future 'victim' getting on with their quotidian activities and whoosh, they are whisked into a life of gambling, drugs, sex or junk food addiction. After years of struggle, they finally find redemption and become good people again. As in any good tale of redemption, there has to be a 'reason' for why our 'victim' fell off the rails. Take your pick: they were molested, their parents ran away from home, they were denied desserts except on Sundays. Just thinking about it brings a tear to my stony face. How can you not be moved by tales such as these. What is the precipitating cause of the misery in my life? Well, my mother was French and my father was English. And to make things worse, I was brought up Catholic! Yes folks, in today's shorthand of grievance, I'm a half-breed straddling Canada's great language divide and a religious bigot. My hometown was a mixture of French and English-speaking people and the results of their miscenagation. You could never tell by someone's last name who spoke your language (For instance, my good friend P. Arsenault spoke the Queen's English and my cousin Sean Doyle wouldn't have recognized an Oxford Dictionary if you shoved up his nose). As children, we were segregated by language; all the French-speaking kids went to one side of the school where they spoke French all the time. I was fortunate enough to be sent to the English side of the school and got to speak my native tongue. My parents decided my brother and sister wouldn't be quite so lucky. In an effort to bridge the great language divide, they both spent six years learning everything in French and mingling with the French people (My parents did this because it was the firm belief of all forward-thinking families that whatever road you took would be much smoother if you could speak both of Canada's official languages. As it turns out for my siblings and... who is telling the story? Pick the correct answer from the following options: - not enough information - the author's child - the author's wife - the author
Answer: the author

Question: Aage Llievang tried explaining to his mother, but she shook her head. "Now, Aage. Really. Your own car? A car? What would the other co-op members think?" "Mom, this is a classic! 1952 MG-TD. It's even--" "British Racing green... yes, Aage. I know. Your father knows. Your grandmother knows. We all know about the car." "But Mom, look." He waved his Handy at her. The MG glowed on its small screen. "There's one up for auction on carsforsale.com and I'm too young to bid. You've got to help me." "Aage!" She put her hands on her hips and shook her head. "Your age is not the problem. You can't even afford it." "I'd pay you back." How could he explain his fascination with the Vehicular Age to her? The seductive sheen, the rumble, the combustive power of automobiles called to him like a siren at sea. He coveted the sense of possibility inherent in the turn of a key. And the MG-TD held a place high in his list of hope. British Racing Green, wood dashboard and a four-stroke engine. He had only seen one MG-TD, when he'd gone on holiday with his folks to the U.K. They had been walking down the street in downtown London. Most of the traffic had been pedestrian or cyclist. The occasional fuel-cell car glided by like a ghostly leftover from the Vehicular Age. Double-decker biodiesel buses roared past regularly, trailing the odor of fish and chips after them. And then it came down the street toward them. A car that purred as its rounded lines soaked up the sun with a green so deep it was almost black. It pulled into the valet parking of a grand hotel and two people got out. Aage barely noticed them. He stared inside the car, where chrome and brass gleamed against a burled wood dashboard. The doors of the car shut with the heavy thunk of real metal. A valet pulled the car out of the parking circle and Aage never saw it again. After the end of this story, Aage is experiencing: Pick the correct answer from the following options: - Longing - not enough information - The security of having enough funds to afford multiple cars - The joy of driving his new car
Answer:
Longing