<p>In the following excerpt from a novel,
Samuel Tyne, a Canadian of Ghanaian
descent, returns to work at the Canadian
Ministry of Economics after attending his
uncles funeral.
His overt melancholy aggravated
his boss, for it made Samuel hard to
approach. Just a glance into Samuels
cubicle gave his co-workers much to gloat
about. It seemed a wonder he was such
an exacting employee, with the swift but
pitiful stride that brought him,
disillusioned, to the threshold of every
meeting. Yet he was so indispensable in
that ministry that his co-workers regretted
every slur they flung at him, lest the
slights drive him to suicide. For not only
would the department collapse without his
doting, steady logic to balance it, but it
seemed at times that the entire Canadian
economy depended on the reluctant, softwristed
scribbling he did in his green
ledger.
There Samuel sat each day,
painfully tallying his data, his pencil
poised like a scalpel in his hand, frowning
at the gruesome but inevitable task ahead
of him. Dwarfed by a monstrous blue
suit, Samuel would finger the mournful
pre-war bowler that never left his head.
And it was such an earnest sight, such an
intimate window into a man whose nature
seemed to be all windowspeople
wondered if he actually had a public self
that he might have been the only man in
the world to claim vulnerability as his
greatest asset.
The day after the funeral, Samuel
returned to work to find a note from his
bosses on his desk: Come See Us.
What could they possibly
reprimand him for? He was a fast and
diligent worker, with enough gumption to
use a little imaginative reasoning when
some economic nuisance called for it. He
was punctual and tidy, not overly familiar
with his co-workers; quite simply, the best
employee they had. Rather than
indignation, though, Samuel only felt fear.
To buy himself time, he crumpled a few
clean papers from his ledger, and walked
the narrow aisles between cubicles to
throw them in the hallway garbage bin.
He returned to find both bosses,
Dombey and Son*, as hed nicknamed
them, at his desk. Dombeys German
sense of humor failed to translate, at least
to Samuel, who always overdid his laugh
to mask confusion. Son, whose current
prestige was pure nepotism, looked at
Samuel with the coldness that cloaked all
of his dealings, as if he knew he was inept
and needed to compensate.
Tyne, Dombey said, we need to
talk about the Olds account.
Samuel pinched the brim of his hat
with his thumbs. Ah, yes. Sorry, yes. I
think, sir, I handed that in before I took
day leave for my uncles funeral.
It contains a dreadful error, said
Son, blinking violently behind his glasses.
He jerked the report at Samuel.
There it was, plain as day, on page
six. A miscalculation Samuel must have
made while thinking about Jacobs death
and the house. He stood there, hat in
hand, aghast.
We realize, continued Son, that
the job sometimes gets stressful. That,
per se, there are times when one cannot
always be as on-the-ball as is required.
But this defies all. Not only is it not up to
standard, its downright misleading.
That was the way Son spoke, as
though he hadnt mastered the
bureaucratic language, wielding phrases
such as per se and not up to standard
like the residue of some management
handbook. Even Dombey seemed
perplexed by this at times.
The muscle in Samuels cheek
trembled. He nodded.
We understand youve just
suffered a big loss, Samuel, said
Dombey, but as you know this is a
federal workplace. What would happen,
say, if you made this kind of error daily?
Now, were certainly not saying that you
do. But what would happen? Ill tell you
what would happen. Youd have ladies
collapsing in ten-hour lines just to get a
loaf of bread to feed their families. Youd
have children skipping school because
there arent enough clothes to go around.
Babies dying without milk. Old folks
crumbling in their rockers. Itd be
pandemonium with a capital P
depression. We are the economy. We
answer to the prime minister. There is no
room for error here. Dombey scratched
his head and looked wistful. Oh, dont
look so glum.
Again, Samuel nodded.
Son, fearing his role in the
reprimand unnecessary, added, We are,
of course, deeply sorry for your loss, but
you must remember our country is in your
hands.
Dombey frowned at Son, and the
two men walked off. When they left,
Samuel heard through the divider the
rude laughter of Sally Mather. His face
burning, he sat at his desk, and picking up
his green ledger, tried to make up for the
ten minutes lost time.</p>
<p>Question:
Tynes attitude at work could best be described as
(A) sinister and calculating
(B) happy and ambitious
(C) insubordinate and stubborn
(D) cheerful and obedient
(E) professional and morose</p>
<p>Answer is C. How come?</p>