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Ex 287/ more about Frank
Cours gratuits > Forum > Exercices du forum || En basEx 287/ more about Frank
Message de here4u posté le 16-11-2024 à 19:56:52 (S | E | F)
Hello dear workers!
Here is the following translation. Frank is no longer a telegram boy. He's gone up the social ladder!
He's here sharing some reflections about his present job...
Translate into French:
The bad days in the lobby are Thursday and Friday when the boys and girls meet and sit and drink
and laugh, nothing on their minds but college and romance, sailing around in the summer, skiing in
the winter, and marrying each other so that they’ll have children who will come to the Biltmore and
do the same. I know they don’t even see me in my houseman’s uniform with my dustpan and broom and I’m
glad because there are days my eyes are so red they look bloody, and I dread when a girl might say,
Excuse me, where is the restroom? It’s hard to point with your dustpan and say, Over there beyond
the elevators, and keep your face turned away at the same time. I tried that with one girl but she
went to the maître d’ and complained I was rude and now I have to look at everyone who asks a question
and when they stare at me I blush so hard I’m sure my skin matches my eyes in the redness department.
Sometimes I blush out of pure anger and I want to snarl at the people who stare but if I did I’d be
fired on the spot.
They shouldn’t stare.They should know better the way their mothers and fathers are spending fortunes
to make them educated and what’s the use of all that education if you’re so ignorant you stare at
people just off the boat with red eyes? You’d think the professors would be standing in front of
their classes telling them that if you go to the Biltmore Hotel lobby or any lobby you’re not to be
staring at people with red eyes or one leg or any class of a disfigurement.
The girls stare anyway and the boys are worse the way they look at me and smile and nudge and pass
remarks that make everyone laugh and I’d like to break my dust pan and broom over their heads till
blood spurted and they begged me to stop and promise they’ll never again pass remarks on anyone’s
sore eyes.
Frank McCourt, 'Tis
Cet exercice est un
Sa correction sera en ligne le samedi 16 novembre 2024. May the FORCE be with us all.
Message de here4u posté le 16-11-2024 à 19:56:52 (S | E | F)
Hello dear workers!
Here is the following translation. Frank is no longer a telegram boy. He's gone up the social ladder!
He's here sharing some reflections about his present job...Translate into French:
The bad days in the lobby are Thursday and Friday when the boys and girls meet and sit and drink
and laugh, nothing on their minds but college and romance, sailing around in the summer, skiing in
the winter, and marrying each other so that they’ll have children who will come to the Biltmore and
do the same. I know they don’t even see me in my houseman’s uniform with my dustpan and broom and I’m
glad because there are days my eyes are so red they look bloody, and I dread when a girl might say,
Excuse me, where is the restroom? It’s hard to point with your dustpan and say, Over there beyond
the elevators, and keep your face turned away at the same time. I tried that with one girl but she
went to the maître d’ and complained I was rude and now I have to look at everyone who asks a question
and when they stare at me I blush so hard I’m sure my skin matches my eyes in the redness department.
Sometimes I blush out of pure anger and I want to snarl at the people who stare but if I did I’d be
fired on the spot.
They shouldn’t stare.They should know better the way their mothers and fathers are spending fortunes
to make them educated and what’s the use of all that education if you’re so ignorant you stare at
people just off the boat with red eyes? You’d think the professors would be standing in front of
their classes telling them that if you go to the Biltmore Hotel lobby or any lobby you’re not to be
staring at people with red eyes or one leg or any class of a disfigurement.
The girls stare anyway and the boys are worse the way they look at me and smile and nudge and pass
remarks that make everyone laugh and I’d like to break my dust pan and broom over their heads till
blood spurted and they begged me to stop and promise they’ll never again pass remarks on anyone’s
sore eyes.
Frank McCourt, 'Tis
Cet exercice est un
Sa correction sera en ligne le samedi 16 novembre 2024. May the FORCE be with us all.
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