全新版⼤学英语综合教程第三册学习笔记（原⽂及全⽂翻译）
——7-LifeofaSalesma。。。
Unit 7 - Life of a Salesman
Making a living as a door-to-door salesman demands a thick skin, both to protect against the weather and against constantly having the door shut in your face. Bill Porter puts up with all this and much, much more.
Life of a Salesman
Tom Hallman Jr.
The alarm rings. It's 5:45. He could linger under the covers, listening to the radio and a weatherman who predicts rain. People would understand. He knows that.
A surgeon's scar cuts across his lower back. The fingers on his right hand are so twisted that he can't tie his shoes. Some days, he feels like surrendering. But his dead mother's challenge echoes in his soul. So, too, do the voices of tho who believed him stupid, incapable of living independently. All his life he's struggled to prove them wrong. He will not quit.
长期坚持跑步的13个益处And so Bill Porter ris.
He takes the first unsteady steps on a journey to Portland's streets, the battlefield where he fights alone for his independence and dignity. He's a door-to-door salesman. Sixty-three years old. And his enemies -- a crippled body that betrays him and a changing world that no longer needs him -- are gaining on him.
With trembling hands he asmbles his weapons: dark slacks, blue shirt and matching jacket, brown tie, tan raincoat and hat. Image, he believes, is everything.
He stops in the entryway, picks up his briefca and steps outside. A fall wind has kicked up. The weatherman was right. He pulls his raincoat tighter.
He tilts his hat just so.
On the 7:45 bus that stops across the street, he leaves his briefca next to the driver and finds a at in the middle of a pack of bored teenagers.
He leans forward, stares toward the driver, sits back, then repeats the process. His nervousness makes him laugh uncontrollably. The teenagers stare at him. They don't realize Porter's afraid some
one will steal his briefca, with the glass, brochures, order forms and clip-on tie that he needs to survive.
Porter ns the stares. He looks at the floor.
His face reveals nothing. In his heart, though, he knows he should have been like the kids, like everyone on this bus. He's not angry. But he knows. His mother explained how the delivery had been difficult, how the doctor had ud an instrument that crushed a ction of his brain and caud cerebral palsy, a disorder of the nervous system that affects his speech, hands and walk.
Porter came to Portland when he was 13 after his father, a salesman, was transferred here. He attended a school for the disabled and then Lincoln High School, where he was placed in a class for slow kids.
But he wasn't slow.
His mind was trapped in a body that didn't work. Speaking was difficult and took time. People were impatient and didn't listen. He felt different -- was different -- from the kids who rushed about in the halls and planned dances he would never attend.
What could his future be? Porter wanted to do something and his mother was certain that he could ri above his limitations. With her encouragement, he applied for a job with the Fuller Brush Co. only to be turned down. He couldn't carry a product briefca or walk a route, they said.
Porter knew he wanted to be a salesman. He began reading help wanted ads in the newspaper. When he saw one for Watkins, a company that sold houhold products door-to-door, his mother t up a meeting with a reprentative. The man said no, but Porter wouldn't listen. He just wanted a chance. The man gave in and offered Porter a ction of the city that no salesman wanted.
It took Porter four fal starts before he found the courage to ring the first doorbell. The man who answered told him to go away, a pattern repeated throughout the day.
That night Porter read through company literature and discovered the products were guaranteed. He would ll that pledge. He just needed people to listen.风去云不回
If a customer turned him down, Porter kept coming back until they heard him. And he sold.
For veral years he was Watkins' top retail salesman. Now he is the only one of the company's 44,000 salespeople who lls door-to-door.
The bus stops in the Transit Mall, and Porter gets off.
His body is not made for walking. Each step strains his joints. Headaches are constant visitors. His right arm is nearly uless. He can't fully control the limb. His body tilts at the waist; he ems to be heading into a strong, steady wind that keeps him off balance. At times, he looks like a toddler taking his first steps.
He walks 10 miles a day.
His first stop today, like every day, is a shoeshine stand where employees tie his laces. Twice a week he pays for a shine. At a nearby hotel one of the doormen buttons Porter's top shirt button and slips on his clip-on tie. He then walks to another bus that drops him off a mile from his territory.
信手拈来的近义词He left home nearly three hours ago.
The wind is cold and raindrops fall. Porter stops at the first hou. This is the moment he's been preparing for since 5: He rings the bell.
A woman comes to the door.
"Hello."
"No, thank you, I'm just preparing to leave."
Porter nods.
"May I come back later?" he asks.
"No," says the woman.
She shuts the door.
Porter's eyes reveal nothing.
He moves to the next hou.
The door opens.
Then clos.
He doesn't get a chance to speak. Porter's expression never changes. He stops at every home in his territory. People might not buy now. Next time. Maybe. No doesn't mean never. Some of his best customers are people who repeatedly turned him down before buying.神笔马良主要内容
He makes his way down the street.
"I don't want to try it."
"Maybe next time."
"I'm sorry. I'm on the phone right now."
"No."
Ninety minutes later, Porter still has not made a sale. But there is always another home.
He walks on.
He knocks on a door. A woman appears from the backyard where she's gardening. She often buys, but not today, she says, as she walks away.
"Are you sure?" Porter asks.
She paus.
""
That's all Porter needs. He walks as fast as he can, tailing her as she heads to the backyard. He ts his briefca down and opens it. He puts on his glass, removes his brochures and begins his sales talk, showing the woman pictures and describing each product.
Spices?
"No."
Jams?
"No. Maybe nothing today, Bill."
Porter's hearing is the one perfect thing his body does. Except when he gets a live one. Then the word "no" does not register.
Pepper?
"No."
Laundry soap?
"Hmm."
Porter stops. He smells blood. He quickly remembers her last order.
"Say, aren't you about out of soap? That's what you bought last time. You ought to be out right about now."
商标授权书模板"You're right, Bill. I'll take one."
He arrives home, in a rainstorm, after Today was not profitable. He tells himlf not to worry. Four days left in the week.。
At least he's off his feet and home.
安全文明施工要求Inside, an era is prerved. The telephone is a heavy, rotary model. There is no VCR, no cable.
His is the only hou in the neighborhood with a television antenna on the roof.
He leads a solitary life. Most of his human contact comes on the job. Now, he heats the oven and slips in a frozen dinner becau it's easy to fix.
怎么喝红酒
The job usually takes him 10 hours.
He's a weary man who knows his days -- no matter what his intentions -- are numbered.
比格犬智商排名He works on straight commission. He gets no paid holidays, vacations or rais. Yes, some months are lean.
In 1993, he needed back surgery to relieve pain caud from decades of walking. He was laid up for five months and couldn't work. He was forced to ll his hou. The new owners, familiar with his situation, froze his rent and agreed to let him live there until he dies.
He doesn't feel sorry for himlf.
The hou is only a building. A place to live, nothing more.
His dinner is ready. He eats at the kitchen table and listens to the radio. The afternoon mail brought bills that he will deal with later this week. The checkbook is upstairs in the bedroom.
His checkbook.
He types in the recipient's name and signs his name.
The signature is small and scrawled.
Unreadable.
But he knows.
Bill Porter.
Bill Porter, salesman.
From his easy chair he hears the wind lash his hou and the rain pound the street outside his home. He must dress warmly tomorrow. He's sleepy. With great care he climbs the stairs to his bedroom.
In time, the lights go off.
Morning will be here soon.
参考译⽂——⼀个推销员的⽣活
⼲挨家挨户上门推销这⼀营⽣得脸⽪厚，这是因为⼲这⼀⾏不仅要经受风吹⽇晒，还要承受⼀次⼜⼀
次的闭门羹。⽐尔 · 波特忍受着这⼀切，以及别的种种折磨。
⼀个推销员的⽣活
⼩汤姆 · 霍尔曼
闹钟响了。是清晨5：45。他可以在被⼦⾥再躺⼀会⼉，听听⽆线电⼴播。天⽓预报员预报有⾬。⼈们会理解的。这点他清楚。
他的下背有⼀道⼿术疤痕。他右⼿的⼿指严重扭曲，连鞋带都没法系。有时，他真想放弃不⼲了。可在他内⼼深处，⼀直回响着已故⽼母的激励, 还有那些说他蠢，说他不能独⽴⽣活的⼈的声⾳。他⼀⽣都在拚命去证明他们错了。他决不能放弃不⼲。
于是⽐尔·波特起⾝了。
他摇摇晃晃迈出了去波特兰⼤街的头⼏步，波特兰⼤街是他为独⽴与尊严⽽孤⾝搏杀的战场。他是个挨家挨户上门推销的推销员，今年63岁。他的敌⼈――辜负他的残疾的⾝体和⼀个不再需要他的变化着的世界――正⼀步⼀步把他逼向绝境。
他⽤颤抖的双⼿收拾⾏装：深⾊宽松裤，蓝衬⾐和与之相配的茄克衫，褐⾊领带，⼟褐⾊⾬⾐和帽⼦。在他看来，形象就是⼀切。
他在门⼝停了⼀下，提起公⽂包，⾛了出去。秋风骤起，冷飕飕的。天⽓预报员说得没错。他将⾬⾐裹裹紧。
他把帽⼦往⼀侧微微⼀斜。
在街对⾯停靠的7：45那班公共汽车上，他把公⽂包放在司机⾝旁，在⼀群没精打采的⼗⼏岁的孩⼦当中找了个位⼦坐下。
他⾝⼦往前⼀倾，盯着司机那⼉望，然后靠着椅背坐下，接着他⼜反复这个过程。他⼼情紧张，控制不住⾃⼰⽽笑出声来。那些孩⼦望着他。他们不明⽩，波特是担⼼有⼈偷他的包，包⾥有他⽣存不可缺少的眼镜，宣传⼩册⼦，定单，以及可⽤别针别上的领带。
波特意识到了⼩孩⼦在盯着他看。他把⽬光转向车厢地板。
他脸上没有流露出任何神情。但在他⼼⾥，他知道⾃⼰本该和这些孩⼦⼀样，和车上其他所有⼈⼀样。他并不⽣⽓。但他⼼⾥明⽩。他母亲解释说⽣他时难产，医⽣使⽤了某种器械，损坏了他⼤脑的⼀部分，导致了⼤脑性⿇痹，⼀种影响他说话，⼿部活动以及⾏⾛的神经系统的紊乱。
波特13岁那年随着当推销员的⽗亲⼯作调动来到波特兰。他上了⼀个残疾⼈学校，后来就读林肯⾼级中学，在那⼉他被编⼊慢班。
但他并不笨。
他由于⾝体不能正常运⾏⽽使脑⼦不能充分发挥其功能。他说话困难，⽽且慢。别⼈不耐烦，不听他说。他觉得⾃⼰不同于――事实上也确实不同于――那些在过道⾥东奔西跑的孩⼦，那些孩⼦安排的舞会他永远也不可能参加。
他将来会是个什么样⼦呢？波特想做些事，母亲也相信他能冲破⾝体的局限。在她的⿎励之下，他向福勒⽛刷公司申请⼀份⼯作，结果却遭到拒绝。他不能提样品包，也不能跑⼀条推销线路，他们说。
波特知道⾃⼰想当推销员。他开始阅读报纸上的招聘⼴告。他看到沃特⾦斯，⼀家上门推销家⽤物品的公司要⼈，他母亲就跟其代理⼈安排会⾯。那⼈说不⾏，可波特不予理会。他就是需要⼀个机会。那⼈让步了，把城⾥⼀个其他推销员都不要的区域派给了他。
波特⼀开始四次都没敢敲门，第五次才⿎起勇⽓按了第⼀户⼈家的门铃。开门的那⼈让他⾛开，这种情形持续了⼀整天。
当晚，波特仔细阅读了公司的宣传资料，发现产品都是保⽤的。他要把保⽤作为卖点。只要别⼈肯听他说话就成。
要是客户回绝波特，拒绝倾听他的介绍，他就⼀再上门。就这样他将产品卖了出去。
他连着⼏年都是沃特⾦斯公司的最佳零售推销员。如今他是该公司44000名推销员中惟⼀⼀个上门推销的⼈。
公共汽车在公交中转购物中⼼站停下，波特下了车。
他的⾝体不适合⾏⾛。每⾛⼀步关节都疼。头疼也是习以为常的事。他的右臂⼏乎没⽤。他不能完全控制这只⼿臂。他的⾝体从腰部开始前倾，看上去就像是顶着⼀股强劲的吹个不停的风迈步向前，风似乎要把他刮倒。有时他看上去就像是个刚刚学步的孩童。
他每天要⾛10英⾥的路程。
像平⽇⼀样，他今天的第⼀站是个擦鞋摊，这⾥的雇员替他系好鞋带。他每周请他们擦两次鞋。附近⼀家旅馆的门卫替他扣上衬⾐最上⾯⼀粒纽扣，戴上⽤别针别上的领带。随后他步⾏去搭乘另⼀部巴⼠，在距离他的推销区域⼀英⾥处下车。
他是差不多3个⼩时前从家⾥动⾝的。
风冷⾬淋。波特在第⼀户⼈家门前停了下来。这是他从5：45分开始就为之准备的时刻。他按了门铃。
⼀位妇⼈开了门。
“你好。”
“不，多谢了。我这就要出门。”
波特点点头。
“那我过会⼉来，可以吗？”他问。
“不⽤了，”那妇⼈回答道。
她关上了门。
波特眼⾥没有流露丝毫神情。
他转向下⼀个⼈家。
门开了。
随即⼜关上。
他连开⼝说话的机会都没有。波特的表情从不改变。他敲开⾃⼰推销区内的每⼀个家门。⼈们现在可
能不买什么。也许下⼀次会买。现在不买不等于永远不买。他的⼀些⽼客户都是那些多次把他拒之门外⽽后来才买的⼈。
他沿着街道往前⾛。
