CELPIP Listening Practice Test 41

MAN: I need to change these. Swap them, rather. I've got two for Saturday's eight o'clock, and my friend just got put on a shift that night.

WOMAN: Hang on, my reading glasses are here. The print on these is tiny. And park the umbrella in the stand, it's soaking the mat.

MAN: I'll shift my coffee off your counter too.

WOMAN: Now, pass me the ticket itself, the printed one, not the confirmation on your phone.

MAN: So a refund's out of the question, I'm guessing.

WOMAN: Only if we cancel the show ourselves. Yours were the half-price seats, and those are final sale.

MAN: Could I just hand them to somebody else, then?

WOMAN: You can, in theory. It's not the handing over that's the problem, it's the door. Half-price means they check the card that paid, and that card's yours.

MAN: So whoever turns up with them gets stopped.

WOMAN: Unless you're standing beside them. Exchanging is cleaner: same band, no fee, any time up to forty-eight hours before curtain.

MAN: Saturday's five days off, so I'm well clear of that.

WOMAN: Go through what's left in the run and come tell me.

MAN: Okay, I'm back. After Saturday there are three nights left, and none of them is simple. Thursday's matinee has a pair, same band as ours, so nothing extra to pay. Except she's on days Thursday.

WOMAN: There goes the cheap one. Friday?

MAN: Closing night. I'd love it, but what's left is singles, dotted all over the room.

WOMAN: Wednesday?

MAN: A pair, middle block, six rows back. The site flagged a price difference, though.

WOMAN: It's a higher band than the side seats you bought.

MAN: Could I put a hold on two of the Friday singles while I think?

WOMAN: Twenty minutes, and it only holds the Friday ones. Somebody could take that Wednesday pair meanwhile.

MAN: We could sit three rows apart on Friday, I suppose.

WOMAN: I wouldn't want to spend closing night mouthing across the room.

MAN: No. Wednesday it is, and I'll cover the difference.

WOMAN: Sensible. Book it on your phone if you like, but the extra has to be paid here before six — we shut then.

MAN: I'll do it right now, before I change my mind.

WOMAN: Good. Bring the confirmation over when you've got it.

MAN: Wednesday's booked, middle block, six rows back. It's asking me for eleven dollars more.

WOMAN: That's the band difference. I can take it here. Card or cash?

MAN: Card. Actually, hold on, there's a credit on my account from the fall.

WOMAN: There is one. Eight dollars, from a show we moved on you.

MAN: So that doesn't cover it all.

WOMAN: It brings you down to three. A credit comes off only if the whole lot goes on the booking card. Pay cash and it just sits there.

MAN: The card's in my pocket anyway. Three it is.

WOMAN: And these old Saturday ones, want them back?

MAN: Toss them, they're no good now. Could you print the new pair here?

WOMAN: I would, but the printer's been jamming all afternoon. And email drops into junk half the time on an exchange night. Then leave it with me. I'll put the pair at the door under your name. Collect them on the night.

MAN: And if her shift changes again?

WOMAN: One exchange per booking. After this they're yours.

MAN: Understood. Three dollars on the card, and I'll pick them up at the door.

WOMAN: Hi Hugo, the garage needs our second car until Monday. Can we still manage your evening class and my Thursday volunteer shift with one vehicle?

MAN: Hey. My class starts at six downtown, and you begin at six thirty across town. Driving me first would leave you fighting traffic in both directions.

WOMAN: I could drop you at the train station at five fifteen. The train reaches downtown quickly, but your class materials and model are awkward to carry.

MAN: The flat model fits in the large portfolio bag. The real problem is the return trip because the last direct train leaves before class ends.

WOMAN: What if I collect you at nine? My shift finishes at eight thirty, and the community centre is only fifteen minutes from your school after traffic clears.

MAN: Could I ride home with Lina? She lives near us and takes the same class.

WOMAN: Ask her as a backup, not the main plan.

MAN: Lina just texted — she's driving her sister that evening instead, so it's really down to you now. I'll take the train there, and you keep the car.

WOMAN: Then text me as soon as you know, not just a rough guess like eight. Otherwise I may leave the shift early because silence looks like a problem.

MAN: The instructor just confirmed critique runs until eight, so pickup wouldn't work until eight fifteen once I've packed up. I'll text you exactly then.

WOMAN: Good. Where should we meet? The school entrance closes at eight forty-five, and waiting on the sidewalk with the model feels unsafe.

MAN: Use the café inside the grocery store opposite the school. It stays open until ten, and I can wait at a table.

WOMAN: I can stop briefly in its pickup lane. The portfolio can stand beside your chair instead of blocking an aisle.

MAN: Then Thursday is settled: station drop-off, train downtown, café pickup at eight fifteen. On Friday I can work from home and you can take the car again.

WOMAN: Hi, this is Elena Cruz — I'm calling about hot lunch for my son Mateo, he's in the peanut-free classroom over in the east wing. He's had a stressful week already, so I'd like to get this settled quickly.

MAN: Hi Elena, happy to help with that. What would you like changed on his order? I look after the allergy files personally, so I can walk you through it.

WOMAN: I want to move him onto the allergy-safe menu permanently, and I also need to flag a dairy sensitivity, not just the peanut allergy that's already on file from last year. We only found out about the dairy issue after a reaction at his cousin's birthday party.

MAN: Sure, that's easy enough. For the dairy piece specifically, we'll need an updated allergy form signed by your family doctor — the general enrollment form you filled out back in September only ever covered the peanut allergy. It's just a short one-page form, so it shouldn't take him long to fill out.

WOMAN: No problem, I can get that from his pediatrician this week, and I'll book the appointment for Thursday afternoon if there's still time. How far ahead of a delivery date does it actually need to be submitted?

MAN: Orders normally lock five days ahead of delivery — actually, sorry, that cutoff changed this term, it's seven days now, not five, since we switched kitchen suppliers. It caught quite a few parents off guard when it first changed back in the fall.

WOMAN: Seven days, noted. And once his file shows the flag, does the kitchen catch it automatically? I mean, is that enough on its own to keep dairy completely off his tray? I just want to be completely sure before he goes back on Monday.

MAN: Not entirely, unfortunately. The flag triggers the substitution inside the ordering system, but our staff also need a printed label sticker right on the tray itself, otherwise it can still get served like any other lunch that day. We do try to double-check trays visually before they ever leave the kitchen too.

WOMAN: So I should really confirm both the form and the sticker are actually in place before I stop worrying. That gives me some real peace of mind, honestly.

MAN: Exactly right, and if you drop the signed form off tomorrow morning at the front office, we'll have both pieces ready well before Thursday's cutoff for next week's menu. Feel free to call again anytime if anything changes before then.

MAN: Drivers heading into Rimouski for the long weekend will find two lanes of the Boulevard Arthur-Buies overpass open earlier than planned. The provincial contractor overseeing the project, Sunniva Guttormsen, said the crew pushed ahead of its original October deadline after a stretch of dry weather let concrete work continue without delays. "We had three weeks in August where we didn't lose a single shift to rain," Guttormsen said. "That gave us enough of a cushion to open the eastbound lanes this weekend instead of waiting." The overpass, which replaces a section that had been reduced to one lane since spring, connects Highway 20 traffic to the port area and has been a source of frustration for commuters and truckers alike. Amara Nwachukwu, who drives a delivery route through the area most weekday mornings, said she'd been rerouting through side streets for months to avoid the backup. She found out the eastbound lanes had reopened only when a customer mentioned it to her on Tuesday, and said she doubted him at first, since she'd been avoiding that stretch for so long it hadn't even occurred to her to check. Only the two eastbound lanes are opening this weekend; the westbound side and the connecting ramp remain under construction. City officials say full completion, including line painting and permanent lighting, is expected by late October, with the contractor continuing work through the fall on the remaining sections.

woman1: So, Theo, you really think volunteers in matching vests will suffice for a crowd this size?

man1: Priya, I do. Hiring professional guards risks giving the festival an unnecessarily heavy-handed atmosphere.

woman2: That's a romantic view, Theo, but with alcohol on site, our liability exposure shifts considerably.

woman1: Maya's right — the moment we serve drinks, the calculus changes and volunteer goodwill won't insulate us legally.

man1: Sure, but trained guards at every corner could make attendees feel scrutinized rather than welcomed. That's a real cost too.

woman2: What if we positioned professionals only at the entrances? We control bag checks there without saturating the whole venue.

woman1: I find that sensible — a measured presence at gates, with volunteers handling wayfinding and minor questions inside.

man1: I could entertain entrance-only, provided the guards aren't visibly armed or wearing tactical gear that frightens families.

woman2: That's reasonable. Most reputable firms offer a community-event uniform, not the intimidating sort you're picturing.

woman1: There's still the matter of cost. Professional coverage, even for entrances alone, will eat into our modest budget.

man1: That's why I keep returning to volunteers. Every dollar spent on guards is a dollar away from programming.

woman2: I'd argue it's the opposite — one incident with no professional response and our insurer drops us next year.

woman1: Maya makes the stronger case, although I wonder whether attendees might read uniformed guards as a tension signal.

man1: That's been my concern throughout. Parks should feel like parks, not checkpoints on a Saturday afternoon.

woman2: Then let's brief the guards specifically on visible friendliness. Posture and tone shape perception more than uniforms do.

woman1: Fine. I'll get three quotes for entrance-only coverage and Maya can confirm the insurance language by Wednesday.

MAN: On today's family and learning report, we're looking at a claim many people feel they already understand: firstborns become responsible leaders, middle children become skilled negotiators, and youngest children become outgoing risk-takers. The pattern is easy to recognize in almost any family. But when researchers test these labels across very large groups, the picture becomes much less tidy. Two major research teams approached the question differently. One examined hundreds of thousands of American students while accounting for age, family size, and parents' background. Another used national studies from several countries and compared siblings from the same families. Their results were not identical in every detail, but the overlap mattered: broad personality differences linked to birth order were either extremely small or could not be found consistently. Earlier-born children did show a slight average advantage on intelligence tests, but the gap was far too small to predict which child in a particular family would score higher. So why do the usual descriptions feel so convincing? A family therapist offers one explanation. We mainly observe siblings inside a shared family setting, where they are often given different jobs. The oldest may be trusted with a house key, while the youngest may be excused from difficult chores. Those roles can create real differences at home without producing fixed personality traits everywhere else. We also tend to remember the examples that fit a familiar story and overlook the ones that do not. A parenting coach still uses birth-order labels, though not as conclusions. She treats them as opening questions. If parents call their eldest child "the responsible one," she asks whether that child chose the role or simply received more duties. The trouble begins when a description turns into an instruction: the oldest must lead, the middle child must keep the peace, and the youngest is never expected to be serious. The intelligence finding needs similar care. Researchers warn against turning a small group average into a forecast for one family. A slight firstborn advantage might reflect more early adult attention or teaching younger siblings. None of these possibilities means later-born children are less capable, and a younger child will often outperform an older one. The most reasonable conclusion is neither that birth order means nothing nor that it decides who children become. It may influence the situations and expectations they meet, especially at home. Still, it works better as a weak clue about family roles than as a blueprint for personality or intelligence.