CELPIP Listening Practice Test 43

WOMAN: My internet's been dead since seven, and I've got a client meeting at two. On video. You're the one above me, aren't you?

MAN: Have you restarted the router?

WOMAN: Three times. And I swapped in a spare power adapter, the little block that plugs into the wall. Power light's steady, internet light just blinks.

MAN: So the adapter's not your problem. Steady power, no signal. That blinking's the line into the building, not anything on your desk.

WOMAN: I was about to walk the router to the provider's store and swap it.

MAN: I'd save yourself the trip. A new one would blink exactly the same way.

WOMAN: Could I borrow a network cable off you, then? Plug the laptop straight in?

MAN: You can have one, but it only helps with faults on your side of the wall. Yours isn't on your side.

WOMAN: So how do I get someone out here?

MAN: Their app, on your phone. Run the diagnostics and it gives you a fault code — no code, no technician, ever.

WOMAN: Even if I call them myself?

MAN: They'll just tell you to run the app.

WOMAN: Fine. I'll do it standing right here.

WOMAN: The code came through. It's the building line, like you said. Earliest technician is tomorrow, eight till twelve.

MAN: Which leaves this afternoon.

WOMAN: Two o'clock, and I can't shift it. The client's on a plane tonight. She's not back till Thursday. Today or nothing. I thought I'd try the café on the corner.

MAN: At lunchtime? You'd still get a table — it's the wifi that gives out. You get on, then it drops you every few minutes. I wouldn't risk a call on it.

WOMAN: There's the guest network in the lobby, isn't there?

MAN: There is, but the code sits with the manager, and she's at a training thing until four.

WOMAN: Four. Naturally. My phone as a hotspot, then.

MAN: That'll do it. How much data have you got?

WOMAN: Two gigs. An hour of video eats all of that.

MAN: The picture's what costs you. Camera off and it's almost nothing.

WOMAN: I'm presenting slides, though. I'd be sharing my screen.

MAN: Then send the deck over beforehand and talk them through it. Same meeting, a fraction of the data.

WOMAN: Huh. Better than what I had planned. The deck goes out now.

WOMAN: Does somebody have to let the technician in tomorrow?

MAN: He does, yes. How did the meeting go?

WOMAN: Fine. Nobody said a word about the camera. One of them told me it was the clearest I've ever been. I'm not explaining why.

MAN: So you're set for the morning?

WOMAN: Eight till twelve. I'll be sitting there with the kettle on.

MAN: That's the catch, though. The panel's in the utility room, and that's locked. The desk clerk opens it. But it has to be on the access sheet, and the manager signs that the evening before. Never in the morning.

WOMAN: She's back, at least. She gave me the guest code an hour ago.

MAN: Then catch her before the desk shuts at six. That's the only thing that can't wait.

WOMAN: I was going to call the provider about taking today off the bill.

MAN: Do that after. Their line's open till nine, and I've never heard of anyone being turned down.

WOMAN: It won't hold up the repair, will it?

MAN: No, different department entirely. Billing never sees the work orders.

WOMAN: Then the sheet first. I'll go down while she's still there.

MAN: Oh no — the lasagna, I think I set the oven to broil instead of bake. The top's completely black.

WOMAN: How did that happen? We haven't used broil in months.

MAN: I must've bumped the dial reaching for the timer earlier, wasn't paying attention. The Hendersons are here in forty minutes!

WOMAN: Should we just order Thai? Actually, forty minutes is tight on a Friday, and it feels weird ordering in when we invited people for a home-cooked meal.

MAN: What about taking everyone to Bella Vista instead, around the corner?

WOMAN: Probably a wait for a table of six on a Friday, and after all the cleaning we did, I'd rather not abandon the house entirely. What do we have in the fridge we could throw together fast?

MAN: We've got salad vegetables, those bell peppers you picked up this week, leftover rice from Wednesday, and ground beef in the freezer — we could stuff the peppers.

WOMAN: That could come together in about twenty-five minutes if we both work on it. You do the peppers, I'll do the salad and set the table. I'll text Claire we might run a few minutes behind.

MAN: Good idea — better she knows now than us fumbling when they arrive. It's not the fancy dinner I had in mind, but it beats staring at a burnt tray.

WOMAN: People barely notice the food, they remember having a good time. Let's move fast — can you preheat the oven properly this time?

MAN: On it. I'll grab the balsamic while I chop the onion.

WOMAN: And let's toss the lasagna tray in the sink to soak, we'll deal with it after everyone's gone. We've got about thirty-five minutes left now.

MAN: Should be enough. Is there still dressing for the salad?

WOMAN: Should be a half bottle left, next to the mustard.

MAN: Wow, look at all those bags! Where are you off to?

WOMAN: Just down to the community garden. My beans have gone completely wild this year, and if I don't pick them today, they'll get tough and stringy.

MAN: I tried growing tomatoes on my balcony this summer. I bought the expensive soil, I watered them every single morning, and I got exactly three. Three tomatoes!

WOMAN: Oh no! Which side of the building are you on?

MAN: The north side, right behind that big maple. Anyway, I've been meaning to ask how you got your plot down there.

WOMAN: Well, I hate to say it, but I waited almost three years for mine. The list is really long, and people hardly ever give their plots up.

MAN: Three years? By then I'll have given up on vegetables completely!

WOMAN: Hmm... there might be another way in, though. You know the older woman in the yellow house on the corner? She's had a plot there since the garden opened, and she's won ribbons at the fall fair more times than I can count. She had knee surgery in the spring, and she's been struggling to keep up. She told me she'd love a hand.

MAN: But wouldn't I still have to be on the waitlist?

WOMAN: Not as a helper. Every plot holder is allowed to sign up one garden partner. The partner gets a key to the gate and can use all the tools in the shed, and the two of you share the work and whatever you grow. You'd have to come to one volunteer workday in October, but that's about it. And the garden's wide open, so everything down there gets sun from morning till night.

MAN: Huh. But I'm a complete beginner. You heard about my tomatoes.

WOMAN: That's the best part! You'd be learning from someone who really knows what she's doing. People have been asking for her tips for years.

MAN: Okay, now I'm interested. Would she really want a total beginner, though?

WOMAN: She said she needs somebody who doesn't mind kneeling in the dirt, because she can't do that anymore. The rest she can teach you.

MAN: Well, my knees are fine, so that part I can manage. Should I just knock on her door this afternoon?

WOMAN: Sure. She's usually out on the porch after lunch.

MAN: The Hollowmere Chamber Orchestra confirmed this week that longtime music director Dominic Reyes has resigned effective immediately after fourteen years at the podium, citing family obligations he described as requiring his full attention. The announcement, which reportedly caught even senior board members off guard, comes barely five weeks before the orchestra's winter gala, a concert originally planned to mark Reyes's anniversary season. Assistant conductor Naledi Khumalo, who has held a supporting role for only three seasons, has now been elevated by the board to interim music director. Khumalo, a former cellist who trained under Reyes himself, will lead the remaining rehearsals and conduct the gala, a demanding programme that includes a symphony she had previously prepared only as a backup, never expecting to perform it herself. Board chair Yusuf Marchetti praised the decision, saying Khumalo had 'quietly influenced the orchestra's sound for years without seeking credit.' Several musicians, speaking after Wednesday's rehearsal, voiced confidence in the change, though some admitted unease about tackling such an ambitious programme with so little preparation time remaining. Reyes, for his part, issued a brief statement wishing the ensemble well but declined further comment on his departure. The orchestra has struggled financially since last year's costly hall renovation, and organizers had hoped the gala's ticket revenue would help offset the resulting shortfall. Whether Khumalo can steady the ensemble through this abrupt transition, while still satisfying audiences expecting a farewell tribute to Reyes, remains uncertain.

woman1: So, Daniel, what actually happened with the Henderson deadline? The client email this morning was pointed.

man1: Honestly, Yuki, the spec was ambiguous from day one. We kept second-guessing what was in scope.

woman2: That's fair, Daniel, but I'd argue we underestimated the workload regardless of how clear the spec was.

woman1: Aisha, the workload only became visible because the instructions were vague. The two issues are tangled, frankly.

man1: Yuki's right that they compound. What I'd push for is a tracking system that flags scope creep early.

woman2: A tracking system is fine, although it doesn't fix the cultural issue of nobody flagging concerns until week four.

woman1: That's the part I keep returning to. Silence from the team is what turned a small slip into a missed delivery.

man1: Granted, although I'd note that overtime expectations made people reluctant to raise problems openly.

woman2: Daniel, that's a valid angle, but let's not blame culture for what was a planning miss on our end.

woman1: We can hold both. Better tracking would surface workload, provided we agreed concerns must be voiced weekly, not monthly.

man1: Weekly check-ins would have caught this, although they only work if leads actually act on what gets raised.

woman2: That's the accountability piece. A flagged concern with no follow-up is worse than no flag at all.

woman1: Agreed. The client question still stands, though. Do we apologize, or offer a revised timeline immediately?

man1: Both, ideally. Apology first, then a credible timeline, otherwise we look defensive instead of accountable.

woman2: I'll write up the client note this afternoon. Yuki, could you sketch the weekly tracking template before Thursday?

woman1: Sure. Daniel, will you raise the silence issue gently with the team lead?

MAN: As more residents raise dogs in condo buildings, Vancouver is seeing growing pressure to add fenced dog parks where off-leash space has been scarce. Building managers trace the recent surge to a bylaw change: some time ago, the city's condo bylaw was amended to allow two dogs per unit instead of one. Registered dog counts in surveyed buildings have risen substantially since then. Animal-welfare advocate Renata Ohlsson strongly supports expanding dog parks. "My own dog used to bark nonstop until we started letting her burn off steam every morning — now she just naps," she says. She points to a trial in one nearby building that added a supervised, one-hour off-leash session each morning in its courtyard. Within months, noise complaints about barking there fell noticeably, which Ohlsson attributes to dogs getting enough activity to settle rather than bark from pent-up energy. Veterinary behaviourist Julian Pankratz is more cautious. He cites data from a comparable city's unsupervised dog park: very young dogs, though a minority of visitors, were involved in more than sixty percent of reported fear-based incidents. Young, undersocialized dogs, he explains, are more likely to trigger or absorb rough play from older, established dogs. Pankratz worries owners assume any off-leash time is automatically beneficial, when a chaotic, unsupervised park can leave a nervous dog more anxious than a quiet leashed walk. He would support new parks only if they included a separate, fenced area for smaller dogs, apart from larger groups — structured the way Ohlsson's supervised morning session already is, not left to sort itself out. Condo board member Felix Castellano has a different worry: consultation. The proposed dog park would serve residents from several neighbouring buildings that share the block's courtyard access, but the site-selection survey went only to residents of the one building hosting the park. Castellano's worry isn't that non-dog-owners dislike the idea, but that most future users never had any say in where the park went. He wants any new park to include a shared oversight committee with a seat for each neighbouring building before construction begins. The city is already testing a fenced small-dog area in one existing park, staffed by a part-time attendant each evening to mediate conflicts. Parks officials say attendance numbers alone won't tell them whether dogs are socializing well, or whether disputes are quietly keeping residents away. City councillor Aisha Bloom chairs the parks committee. She proposed a middle path: launch the small-dog area as planned, but log every incident so Castellano's committee can review real data before deciding whether to expand. That data-driven approach was the only proposal that drew applause from both sides of the room.