The entry tо clоse the аpprоpriаte insurаnce account at the end of the accounting period is
Pаssаge #1 My Jоurney in Phоtоgrаphs A I got my first real job at age 12, as a waitress. I am convinced that I learned more as a waitress than I ever did in a classroom. It certainly was more interesting. And when I went on to college, it paid for tuition and housing and, eventually, a camera. It allowed me to rent an apartment and feed myself (chicken pot pies, four for a dollar!). But best of all, being a waitress taught me to quickly assess and understand all kinds of people. I learned how to make small talk and how to quickly put people at ease— great training for a journalist. Waiting tables also taught me teamwork and service and humor. For the first eight years, I loved it. For the final two years, I just wanted to be a photographer. B From the moment I picked up a camera, I was hooked. I lost interest in other studies, and all I wanted to do was take pictures for the university newspaper, the Minnesota Daily. The paper at that time was one of the largest in the state and was produced by young journalists who went on to work at every major magazine in the country. In six months, I was able to get a lot of great experience. The week I finished college, I was contacted by the Worthington Daily Globe, a regional daily newspaper in southern Minnesota with a history of excellence in photography. It was wonderfully printed with fantastic photographs. By some miracle I was hired, and the two-year experience that followed was like a master class in photojournalism. C Jim Vance was the top-notch publisher of the Globe. He had very high expectations of all the staff. With little or no instruction from him, writers and photographers were expected to fill the paper with stories that were important to our readers. I didn’t know it at the time, but this independent reporting was perfect training for my future career at National Geographic. D Among the most important things I learned at the Globe was that if you can make friends with a shy Norwegian farmer and be invited to his kitchen table, you can probably do well in any culture on Earth. I worked with a wonderful writer named Paul Gruchow. Together we would search the farming communities for stories. Paul had grown up on a farm himself and lived through personal tragedy, so he was able to project warmth and understanding to anyone he met. Farmers would invite us into their homes and willingly share their personal thoughts with us. From Paul I learned how to be a patient listener as well as the importance of giving each subject time and sincere attention. E It was while I was working at the Globe that I happened to answer the phone one morning. A man’s voice asked, “You a photographer?” When I replied that indeed I was, the voice responded, “This is Bob Gilka. National Geographic. I need a hail damage picture. You guys get a big hailstorm last night?” I overcame my nervousness and said, “Yes, sir.” When he asked if I could take the picture for him, I again said, “Yes, sir.” Thus began one of the most important relationships of my life, with the legendary Director of Photography at National Geographic, Bob Gilka. F Bob was always looking for talented photographers to join his team, and he was not easily impressed. As he used to say, “I am knee-deep in talent, but only ankle-deep in ideas. I want people with ideas!” He was a man of very few words, so every word was heard. Praise from Bob meant as much to most photographers as a Pulitzer Prize. G My little picture of hail damage in southern Minnesota was well received, and a year later, I was working for Bob. I was the youngest photographer working for National Geographic when I arrived in 1978, and I spent at least a decade just trying not to make mistakes. While I was grateful for the opportunity, it was very difficult for me. With each new assignment came the fear that this was going to be the one where they figured out that I couldn’t do the job. H On many assignments, the most challenging part turned out to be the transportation. Over the years, I traveled by horse, car, train, truck, and all sorts of old vehicles. I traveled by mule in Mexico, by ship along the Indian Ocean, by fishing boat in the Sea of Galilee, by moped in Bermuda, by sailboat in Sydney. I flew in helicopters chasing bears in the Arctic. Twice, while flying in light planes, pilots have had to make emergency landings far from any airport. But there were also wonderful experiences. In Africa I traveled by balloon, ultralight aircraft, and elephant. In a rubber raft off the west coast of Mexico, I was suddenly lifted out of the water on the back of a friendly whale. I Wherever I traveled in the world, taking beautiful pictures was always my goal. However, later in my career, I also wanted my pictures to make a real difference in people’s lives. That is why each spring I tour two or three developing countries, shooting portraits of people whose lives are better because of the dedicated workers who care about them. The photos are used in a variety of fund-raising products. The other issue that stole my heart was the environment. With support from the National Geographic Expeditions Council, I have traveled all over the United States to photograph the last one percent of wilderness left here. J I am deeply grateful for my life in photography and the amazing lessons it has taught me. I have learned that women really do hold up half the sky; that language isn’t always necessary, but touch usually is; that all people are not alike, but they do mostly have the same hopes and fears; that judging others does great harm, but listening to them enriches; and that it is impossible to hate a group of people once you get to know one of them as an individual. Which of the following statements would Annie Griffiths most agree with?
Sоniа llevа muchо tiempо queriendo trаbajar en una profesión sanitaria.