input with options: Oh, yes, I accidentally insulted a bully. It was awesome. This was about a month ago. It was the last day I worked. Memorial Day at the city rec center is SLOW, especially when it's beautiful outside, but for some reason, we had two front desk attendants: me, and “bully #1”. Bully #1 clearly had a major distaste for me. She hated my tattoos, the way I would get into a heated debate one day with a police officer patron, then have a fantastic conversation with him days later about legalizing marijuana. She hated that I was liked, but still could give fuck-all about what others thought of me. Bully #2 was our financial director, who got stuck as the manager on duty that day. I honestly never had a clue she didn't like me. She was intense and sarcastic with everyone. I liked her style. On this day, I really got the feeling they were trash talking me pretty hard, the way they kept disappearing, talking over me, laughing like mean girls. I blew it off, because I was down an internet rabbit hole, trying to wrap my brain around some concepts. I was looking at a word, and while I like to think I know exact definitions, sometimes I ask people their take on it. Many psychological terms have some subjective meaning. I spun around in my chair, locked eyes with #2, and asked her: “What do you know about Machiavellianism?” I swear to God, all I wanted was her take on it (she's a smart cookie), and all hell broke loose. I now realize that she thought I was passive-aggressively accusing her of said word. They got really nasty (behind my back, of course). They retreated to the back for awhile, and left me by myself. Cue loud, mean girl laughter. When #1 resumed her post next to me at the front desk, I calmly told her, “I'm cashing out, and leaving. I'm uncomfortable.” And I did. It was noon. We were closing at 1. I figured those bitches could handle it on their own. According to the above context, answer the following question. Who hated the tattoos?
OPTIONS:
- not enough information
- bully#2
- the police officer
- bully#1
output: bully#1


Q: I’m here in Dubrovnik, Croatia for a team meetup. Sadly, the weather has been pretty gray and rainy so far – in fact the forecast has it cloudy and rainy every day until after we leave. So I was pleasantly surprised to be awakened by the sun peeking around the edges of the curtain in my room, especially after the weather yesterday in which the wind gusted 35-40 mph – hard enough to blow the patio furniture around on my balcony (and at one point, catching a chair and flipping it against the rail so hard that if the rail had been just a bit shorter, it might have gone over). Our group all agreed that we should take advantage of the nice weather and head to the old city walls and St. Lawrence Fort (Lovrijenac). We spent several hours walking the walls and climbing up and down stairs. The sun sparkled off the Adriatic Sea and cast a warm glow on the orange and red tiled roofs in old city. It was such a change from the gray and foggy gloom of the last couple of days and it created a completely different mood, at least for me. From foreboding and dark to welcoming and bright. The clouds eventually rolled back in again, but the sunshine was nice while it lasted. We walked over to the fort and I took these shots of the city wall and from across the small cove between them. If you look closely in a few shots, you’ll see a stone pier, which is just between the Pile Gate (pronounced “peel-ay”) at the city walls and the fort. Although I’m one of the few people in the developed world who does not watch Game of Thrones, my co-workers tell me this was one of the locations used for a scene in the show. According to the above context, answer the following question. Why did the furniture move?

OPTIONS:
- Because of the rail
- Because of the wind
- not enough information
- Because of the sun

A: Because of the wind


"Congratulations, jackass, you just got us sued." My editor, Sharon, was standing in front of my desk. She was apparently not happy. I shrugged, slouching further down in my chair, trying to hide from her gigantic crazy eyes behind my computer. It was a white laptop with a sticker that said "This Machine Kills Yuppies" slapped over the corporate logo on back. She reached out with one of her freakish man-hands and slammed the screen shut. "Let me try this again. You just got us sued six times over." Sharon Sinclair was a six-foot-tall beast of a woman with a huge mane of wiry black and gray hair pulled back in a pony tail. I had every confidence that she could tear me in two and use my bloody carcass in some kinky hedonistic lesbian cult ritual or something. So I usually tried to choose my words with the appropriate care around her. "Jesus-fucking-Christ, I haven't even had my morning coffee yet, and my head's still reeling from the Louisville Slugger that pummeled it last night. So I really don't feel like dealing with whatever annoying hormonal episode you have going on here." She glared at me silently, watching me squirm a little before asking, "Are you done?" "Probably." "Good," she said with a suppressed grin as she took a seat next to me. "Because I just let you publicly accuse the mayor and the valley's most powerful corporations of conspiring to defraud the taxpayers. So what's your plan for keeping my ass off the firing line?" I tilted back in my chair and met Sharon's gaze. "Look, we knew we'd get a strong reaction. Let them sue. We have e-mails to back us up." "These legal briefings say your e-mails were forged," she responded, waving a thick stack of papers in my face. "Of course they're gonna say that. That's why I made sure to get corroboration. Abrasax confirmed that the e-mails between Dylan Maxwell and City Hall are legit. But you know all this, so I don't know why we're wasting time going over it again." According to the above context, answer the following question. What will be the result of the lawsuit?

OPTIONS:
- The protagonist will win the case.
- The protagonist will lose the case.
- The protagonist will settle with the plaintiffs out of court.
- not enough information

Answer:
not enough information