Yes recently! I have joined a B-School recently. New friends, new syllabus, new place and new subjects! With all these new things, I got a new assignment which was supposed to be submitted in 3 days. Our teams were formed and we, together had to submit it. From dawn to dusk, we worked hard on that Economics project. I worked with each and every person in the group. I didn’t know how to plot a triple axis graph in excel, I learnt that day at 2 am. Our group also learnt many new things and we gave our 100% to that report. I, in my entire academic life, have never been careless towards the submission. I always submitted reports or assignments before time. Anyway, the submission day finally arrived. I had told one of the group members to print the report out and bind it and bring to the college with her. The lecture is scheduled at 2:00 pm. I called her for about 30 times asking where she was. She didn’t pick up any of our calls. There she entered the lecture hall at 2:07 pm and our professor being a strict one, rejected our project. Everything was washed out. Our efforts were washed away. What was the reason of she being late? Traffic! It's simple assumption that if you stay in a city like Mumbai, you at least leave your house 1–1.30 hours before. Being loyal is toxic sometimes. We all lost our individual credits for the subject plus the internals will get affected which is altogether different story. Guys, if you are working for a group of members, please please respect their hard work. Put yourself in their shoes snd imagine their hard work. Never ever mix your Professional commitments with personal problems. Peace! Question: After being late, what did the the student do? Options: - lost interest in the class   - resented their group   - quit school   - not enough information === The correct answer is
lost interest in the class

Personally I enjoy doing things outside. You know, the good ol’ nature. One time, me and my buddy Alex and some friends decided we were going to go camping. (I know, basic camping story. Well not exactly.) We planned on going for the weekend. Got to the spot and put up our tents like normal campers. But knowing myself and my friends we wanted to drink a couple beers and do some fishing. We did just that. Later that night we had started out camp fire and cooked up some links before bed time. My drunk self wanted to keep the fire going all night to prevent wild animals from coming t our sight. Well at least I thought that’d help. So I needed a bunch of wood to do so. Everyone was asleep by this point but me. So I took myself out into the woods a little deeper to grab a full broken down tree. I thought to myself, “Well if I want to utilize all of this wood I’m going to need to break it into smaller prices right?” Wrong. Well at least it was wrongful of how I planned on doing it. I attempted to break the tree in half by throwing it against another tree, as if I were as strong as the hulk or something. Once I chunked the tree at this tree I messed the entire vacation up. The tree came down on my knee and crushed it. I was in so much pain. I realized that I messed it up pretty bad so I laid there for a second trying to get back to my feet. The next day I couldn’t apply any pressure and couldn’t walk at all. I was dirty and smelly and needed some serious help on my leg but I was too far from any civilization. Worst nature experience ever! Question: After the narrator throws the broken tree against another tree, what does he think? Options: - He believes he is so strong, that next time, he could throw two broken down trees against another tree.   - He will now think twice about doing that.   - It was the best decision of his life.   - not enough information === The correct answer is
He will now think twice about doing that.

The parking lot for the Center for Addictions Treatment was in the back of the building, as was the front door. The entrance opened on the only addition to the original farmhouse, a smallish room where the receptionist sat at one of two desks. The area was called the secretarial pod. The entrance to Ray's office, both medication and technician area, was right behind the secretary's desk. To the left was another door, kept closed, which led down the hallway to the client sleeping rooms, the dining room and the kitchen. There was a phone right inside the front door (or the back door, depending upon who you asked). When Ray wanted to smoke, he would lean out the front door, propping it open with his back in such a way that he could see down the hallway if he propped that door open as well and answer the phone should it ring. Smoking was prohibited inside the building, a policy which grew increasingly unpopular with both the staff and the clients as the course of the year wore on. By December, Ray would have to do weekly fire drills around three a.m. as a way of politely reminding his anti-social and policy impaired population that any building more than a century old was actually little more than well formed kindling. After enough of those, any problem he had been having with people smoking in the building usually went away. Given the right incentives, even this population could be relatively self-regulating. The telephone rang before Ray was even half-finished with his cigarette. "Admit it now, Ray." She sounded petulant. "Fine, I admit it. Do I get the booby prize?" "That depends on whether you intended a double entendre or not." "Of course I did." "Then you lose. Get your mind out of the gutter." He took a drag on his cigarette, then made himself sound insulted. "I'm not the one sitting around naked and calling strange men in the middle of the night." Question: What did the lady say to Ray on the phone? Options: - not enough information   - Of course I did   - Admit it now, Ray   - Fine, I admit it === The correct answer is
Admit it now, Ray

I have been married twice. My wedding experiences were both very different, even though I cried at both ceremonies. At my first wedding, I had been doing a lot of manual labor in the day prior to the wedding. Unfortunately, I did not have any gloves, and I ended up getting a lot of blisters on my hands. By the evening of the wedding, these blisters were very painful to touch. My bride was wearing what I thought to be an elaborate wedding dress. It was pretty, and it had a lot of buttons on it. Little, white, cloth covered buttons. These buttons were also a part of her sleeves and gloves. During the ceremony, she was holding my hands very tightly, and it hurt. I mean, it really really hurt! I didn’t want to pull my hands away, as the gesture could be misconstrued, and I might hurt her feelings. So, I stood and held hands with her, enduring the pain. Although I managed to remain silent, I couldn’t keep the tears from falling down my face. The more I cried, the harder she squeezed and the more painful it was. She always thought that I was crying due to emotion on our wedding day, and I never told her any differently — I didn’t want to hurt her feelings. Some years after that lengthy incarceration ended, I was fortunate to wed again. I had not done any manual labor before our wedding day. My hands were fine. Also, my bride did not have a lot of intricate buttons on her dress, nor did she wear gloves or even have sleeves. We were wed on a beach, just the two of us. No one else was in attendance. We had written our own vows, in fact, our own ceremony, including our own rituals. And yes, I cried, because I was / am so in love with my bride. I still tear up every morning when I awaken and see her sleeping beside me. Peace Question: When did the author do so much manual labor that his hands were blistered? Options: - The day before his second wedding   - not enough information   - The day before his first wedding   - On his honeymoon after the first wedding === The correct answer is
