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I am afraid to sleep. I have been afraid to sleep for the last few weeks. I am so tired that, finally, I do sleep, but only for a few minutes. It is not a bad dream that wakes me; it is the reality I took with me into sleep. I try to think of something else. Immediately the woman in the marketplace comes into my mind. I was on my way to dinner last night when I saw her. She was selling skirts. She moved with the same ease and loveliness I often saw in the women of Laos. Her long black hair was as shiny as the black silk of the skirts she was selling. In her hair, she wore three silk ribbons, blue, green, and white. They reminded me of my childhood and how my girlfriends and I used to spend hours braiding ribbons into our hair. I don’t know the word for "ribbons," so I put my hand to my own hair and, with three fingers against my head, I looked at her ribbons and said "beautiful." She lowered her eyes and said nothing. I wasn’t sure if she understood me (I don’t speak Laotian very well). I looked back down at the skirts. They had designs on them: squares and triangles and circles of pink and green silk. They were very pretty. I decided to buy one of those skirts, and I began to bargain with her over the price. It is the custom to bargain in Asia. In Laos bargaining is done in soft voices and easy moves with the sort of quiet peacefulness. She smiled, more with her eyes than with her lips. She was pleased by the few words I was able to say in her language. Although they were mostly numbers, and she saw that I understood something about the soft playfulness of bargaining. We shook our heads in disagreement over the price; then, immediately, we made another offer and then another shake of the head. She was so pleased that unexpectedly, she accepted the last offer I made. But it was too soon. The price was too low. She was being too generous and wouldn’t make enough money. I moved quickly and picked up two more skirts and paid for all three at the price set; that way I was able to pay her three times as much before she had a chance to lower the price for the larger purchase. She smiled openly then, and, for the first time in months, my spirit lifted. I almost felt happy. The feeling stayed with me while she wrapped the skirts in a newspaper and handed them to me. When I left, though, the feeling left, too. It was as though it stayed behind in marketplace. I left tears in my throat. I wanted to cry. I didn’t, of course. I have learned to defend myself against what is hard; without knowing it, I have also learned to defend myself against what is soft and what should be easy. I get up, light a candle and want to look at the skirts. They are still in the newspaper that the woman wrapped them in. I remove the paper, and raise the skirts up to look at them again before I pack them. Something falls to the floor. I reach down and feel something cool in my hand. I move close to the candlelight to see what I have. There are five long silk ribbons in my hand, all different colors. The woman in the marketplace! She has given these ribbons to me! There is no defense against a generous spirit, and this time I cry, and very hard, as if I could make up for all the months that I didn’t cry. Which of the following in NOT correct
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Directions: In this section, you are going to read a passage with 10 statements attached to it. Each statement contains information given in one of the paragraphs. Identify the paragraph from which the information is derived. You may choose a paragraph more than once. Each paragraph is marked with a letter. Answer the questions by marking the corresponding letter on Answer Sheet 2.Surviving the Recession A. America’s recession began quietly at the end of 2007. Since then it has evolved into a global crisis. Reasonable people may disagree about whom to blame. Financiers who were not as clever as they thought they were Regulators falling asleep at work Consumers who borrowed too much Politicians who thoughtlessly promoted home-ownership for those who could not afford it All are guilty; and what a mess they have created. B. Since 2007 America has shed 5 million jobs. More than 15% of the workforce are jobless or underemployed—roughly 25 million workers. The only industries swelling their payrolls are health care, utilities and the federal government. The value of listed shares in American firms collapsed by 57% from its peak in October 2007 to a low in March this year, though it has since bounced back somewhat. Industrial production fell by 12.8% in the year to March, the worst slide since the Second World War. Mark Zandi, an economist at Moody’s Economy.com, predicts that the recession will shrink America’s economy by 3.5% in total. For most executives, this is the worst business environment they’ve ever seen. C. Times are so tough that even bosses are taking pay cuts. Median (中位数的) pay for chief executives of S&P 500 companies fell 6.8% in 2008. The overthrown business giants of Wall Street took the biggest knock, with average pay cuts of 38% and median bonuses of zero. But there was some pain for everyone: median pay for chief executives of non-financial firms in the S&P 500 fell by 2.7%. D. Nearly every business has a sad tale to tell. For example, Arne Sorenson, the president of Marriott hotels, likens the crisis to the downturn that hit his business after September 11th, 2001. When the twin towers fell, Americans stopped travelling. Marriott had its worst quarter ever, with revenues per room falling by 25%. This year, without a terrorist attack, the hotel industry is "putting the same numbers on the board," says Mr. Sorenson. E. The hotel bust (不景气), like most busts, was preceded by a breathtaking boom. Although many other big firms resisted the temptation to over-borrow, developers borrowed heavily and built bigger and fancier hotels as if the whole world were planning a holiday in Las Vegas. When the bubble burst, demand collapsed. Hotel owners found themselves with a huge number of empty rooms even as a lot of unnecessary new hotels were ready to open. F. Other industries have suffered even more. Large numbers of builders, property firms and retailers have gone bankrupt. And a disaster has hit Detroit. Last year the American car industry had the capacity to make 17 million vehicles. Sales in 2009 could be barely haft of that. The Big Three American carmakers—General Motors, Ford and Chrysler—accumulated ruinous costs over the post-war years, such as gold-plated health plans and pensions for workers who retired as young as 48. All three are desperately restructuring. Only Ford may survive in its current form. G. Hard times breed hard feelings. Few Americans understand what caused the recession. Some are seeking scapegoats (替罪羊). Politicians are happy to take advantage. Bosses have been summoned to Washington to be scolded on live television. The president condemns their greed. Extravagance (奢侈) Is Out H. Business folk are bending over backwards to avoid seeming extravagant. Meetings at resorts are suddenly unacceptable. Goldman Sachs, an investment bank, cancelled a conference in Las Vegas at the last minute and rebooked it in San Francisco, which cost more but sounded less fun. I. Anyway, the pain will eventually end. American business will regain its shine. Many firms will die, but the survivors will emerge leaner and stronger than before. The financial sector’s share of the economy will shrink, and stay shrunk for years to come. The importance of non-financial firms will accordingly rise, along with their ability to attract the best talent. America will remain the best place on earth to do business, so long as Barack Obama and the Democrats in Congress resist the temptation to interfere too much, and so long as organised labour does not overplay its hand. J. The crisis will prove hugely disruptive (破坏性的), however. Bad management techniques will be exposed. Necessity will force the swift adoption of more efficient ones. At the same time, technological innovation (创新) will barely pause for breath, and two big political changes seem likely. K. Mr. Obama’s plan to curb carbon dioxide (CO2) emissions (排放), though necessary, will be far from cost-free, whatever his sunny speeches on the subject might suggest. The shift to a low-carbon economy will help some firms, hurt others and require every organisation that uses much energy to rethink how it operates. It is harder to predict how Mr. Obama’s proposed reforms to the failing health-care system will turn out. If he succeeds in curbing costs—a big if—it would be a huge gain for America. Some businesses will benefit but the vast bulk of the savings will be captured by workers, not their employers. L. In the next couple of years the businesses that thrive will be those that are tight with costs, careful of debt, cautious with cash flow and extremely attentive to what customers want. They will include plenty of names no one has yet heard of. M. Times change, and corporations change with them. In 1955 Time’s Man of the Year was Harlow Curtice, the boss of GM. His firm was leading America towards "a new economic order," the magazine wrote. Thanks to men like Curtice, "the bonds of scarcity" had been broken and America was rolling "to an all-time high of prosperity." Soon, Americans would need to spend "comparatively little time earning a living." N. Half a century later GM is a typical example of poor management. In March its chief executive was fired by Time’s current Man of the Year, Mr. Obama. The government now backs up the domestic car industry, lending it money and overseeing its turnaround plans. With luck, this will be short-lived. But there is a danger that Washington will end up micromanaging not only Detroit but also other parts of the economy. And clever as Mr. Obama’s advisers are, history suggests they will be bad at this. Too much government interference in the economy will hinder the revival of American business.
I am afraid to sleep. I have been afraid to sleep for the last few weeks. I am so tired that, finally, I do sleep, but only for a few minutes. It is not a bad dream that wakes me; it is the reality I took with me into sleep. I try to think of something else. Immediately the woman in the marketplace comes into my mind. I was on my way to dinner last night when I saw her. She was selling skirts. She moved with the same ease and loveliness I often saw in the women of Laos. Her long black hair was as shiny as the black silk of the skirts she was selling. In her hair, she wore three silk ribbons, blue, green, and white. They reminded me of my childhood and how my girlfriends and I used to spend hours braiding ribbons into our hair. I don’t know the word for "ribbons," so I put my hand to my own hair and, with three fingers against my head, I looked at her ribbons and said "beautiful." She lowered her eyes and said nothing. I wasn’t sure if she understood me (I don’t speak Laotian very well). I looked back down at the skirts. They had designs on them: squares and triangles and circles of pink and green silk. They were very pretty. I decided to buy one of those skirts, and I began to bargain with her over the price. It is the custom to bargain in Asia. In Laos bargaining is done in soft voices and easy moves with the sort of quiet peacefulness. She smiled, more with her eyes than with her lips. She was pleased by the few words I was able to say in her language. Although they were mostly numbers, and she saw that I understood something about the soft playfulness of bargaining. We shook our heads in disagreement over the price; then, immediately, we made another offer and then another shake of the head. She was so pleased that unexpectedly, she accepted the last offer I made. But it was too soon. The price was too low. She was being too generous and wouldn’t make enough money. I moved quickly and picked up two more skirts and paid for all three at the price set; that way I was able to pay her three times as much before she had a chance to lower the price for the larger purchase. She smiled openly then, and, for the first time in months, my spirit lifted. I almost felt happy. The feeling stayed with me while she wrapped the skirts in a newspaper and handed them to me. When I left, though, the feeling left, too. It was as though it stayed behind in marketplace. I left tears in my throat. I wanted to cry. I didn’t, of course. I have learned to defend myself against what is hard; without knowing it, I have also learned to defend myself against what is soft and what should be easy. I get up, light a candle and want to look at the skirts. They are still in the newspaper that the woman wrapped them in. I remove the paper, and raise the skirts up to look at them again before I pack them. Something falls to the floor. I reach down and feel something cool in my hand. I move close to the candlelight to see what I have. There are five long silk ribbons in my hand, all different colors. The woman in the marketplace! She has given these ribbons to me! There is no defense against a generous spirit, and this time I cry, and very hard, as if I could make up for all the months that I didn’t cry. The writer assumed that the woman accepted the last offer mainly because the woman ______.
I have had just about enough of being treated like a second-class citizen, simply because I happen to be that put-upon member of society—a customer. The more I go into shops and hotels, banks and post offices, railway stations, airports and the like, the more I am convinced the things are being run solely to suit the firm, the system, or the union. There seems to be a deceptive new motto for so-called "service" organizations—Staff Before Service. How often, for example, have you queued for what seems like hours at the post office or the supermarket because there were not enough staff on duty to man all the service grilles or checkout counters Sure In these days of high unemployment it must be possible to hire cashiers and counter staff. Yet supermarkets, hinting darkly at higher prices, claim that uncovering all their cash registers at any one time would increase overheads. And the post office says we cannot expect all their service grilles to be occupied "at times when demand is low." It is the same with hotels. Because waiters and kitchen staff must finish when it suits them, dining rooms close earlier or menu choice is cut short. As for us guests, we just have to put up with it. There is also the nonsense of so many friendly hotel night porters having been thrown out of their jobs in the interests of "efficiency" (i.e. profits) and replaced by coin-eating machines which offer everything from lager to laxatives. Not to mention the creeping threat of the tea-making kit in your room: a kettle with a mixed collection of tea bags, plastic milk cartons and lump sugar. Who wants to wake up to a raw teabag I do not, especially when I am paying for "service." Can it be stopped, this worsening of service, this growing attitude that the customer is always a nuisance I angrily hope so because it is happening, sadly, in all walks of life. Our only hope is to hammer home our anger whenever and wherever we can and, if all else fails, bring back into practice that other, older slogan—Take Our Custom Elsewhere. The writer suggests that a customer ______.
I am afraid to sleep. I have been afraid to sleep for the last few weeks. I am so tired that, finally, I do sleep, but only for a few minutes. It is not a bad dream that wakes me; it is the reality I took with me into sleep. I try to think of something else. Immediately the woman in the marketplace comes into my mind. I was on my way to dinner last night when I saw her. She was selling skirts. She moved with the same ease and loveliness I often saw in the women of Laos. Her long black hair was as shiny as the black silk of the skirts she was selling. In her hair, she wore three silk ribbons, blue, green, and white. They reminded me of my childhood and how my girlfriends and I used to spend hours braiding ribbons into our hair. I don’t know the word for "ribbons," so I put my hand to my own hair and, with three fingers against my head, I looked at her ribbons and said "beautiful." She lowered her eyes and said nothing. I wasn’t sure if she understood me (I don’t speak Laotian very well). I looked back down at the skirts. They had designs on them: squares and triangles and circles of pink and green silk. They were very pretty. I decided to buy one of those skirts, and I began to bargain with her over the price. It is the custom to bargain in Asia. In Laos bargaining is done in soft voices and easy moves with the sort of quiet peacefulness. She smiled, more with her eyes than with her lips. She was pleased by the few words I was able to say in her language. Although they were mostly numbers, and she saw that I understood something about the soft playfulness of bargaining. We shook our heads in disagreement over the price; then, immediately, we made another offer and then another shake of the head. She was so pleased that unexpectedly, she accepted the last offer I made. But it was too soon. The price was too low. She was being too generous and wouldn’t make enough money. I moved quickly and picked up two more skirts and paid for all three at the price set; that way I was able to pay her three times as much before she had a chance to lower the price for the larger purchase. She smiled openly then, and, for the first time in months, my spirit lifted. I almost felt happy. The feeling stayed with me while she wrapped the skirts in a newspaper and handed them to me. When I left, though, the feeling left, too. It was as though it stayed behind in marketplace. I left tears in my throat. I wanted to cry. I didn’t, of course. I have learned to defend myself against what is hard; without knowing it, I have also learned to defend myself against what is soft and what should be easy. I get up, light a candle and want to look at the skirts. They are still in the newspaper that the woman wrapped them in. I remove the paper, and raise the skirts up to look at them again before I pack them. Something falls to the floor. I reach down and feel something cool in my hand. I move close to the candlelight to see what I have. There are five long silk ribbons in my hand, all different colors. The woman in the marketplace! She has given these ribbons to me! There is no defense against a generous spirit, and this time I cry, and very hard, as if I could make up for all the months that I didn’t cry. According to the writer, the woman in the marketplace ______.
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