开网店的步骤是什么？
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免费注册淘宝会员很简单,需要在注册页面里填写用户名,可以是中文名字,设置密码,还有用来确认开通会员帐号用的电子邮件,电子邮件可以到雅虎,新浪,搜狐,网易等大网站里免费申请一个.
当你的注册信息填写完毕后,淘宝网会给你回复一个电子邮件.登录你的邮箱,按照淘宝网的提示自动回复一个确认信息,那么你的淘宝会员就算注册成功了.
淘宝会员注册成功后,可以免费申请支付宝.支付宝是淘宝网安全网络交易的核心保障.支付宝作为诚信中立的第三方机构,可以充分保障货、款安全及买卖双方的利益.交易过程中无后顾之忧.
由于网络实名制的实施,要进行"支付宝个人实名人证",包括三个部分,分别为"填写个人信息","身份证件核实"和"银行帐户核实".每个部分在提交后,都要经过审核,通过后才能自己的开店之旅.
开店的条件:首先注册成淘宝会员并开通帐号,然后申请支付宝并通过人证,最后在淘宝网里发布10件宝贝,保持在出售状态,这样就可以在淘宝网免费开店了.
商品的发布很简单,点击我要卖,选择一口价或者拍卖,填写销售商品详细内容,以便买家了解.
会员在淘宝网成功交易一笔,就可以对交易对象做一次信用评价,信用评价分为表扬,鼓励和批评三种.表扬加一分,鼓励不加分,批评扣一分.
当你的注册信息填写完毕后,淘宝网会给你回复一个电子邮件.登录你的邮箱,按照淘宝网的提示自动回复一个确认信息,那么你的淘宝会员就算注册成功了.
淘宝会员注册成功后,可以免费申请支付宝.支付宝是淘宝网安全网络交易的核心保障.支付宝作为诚信中立的第三方机构,可以充分保障货、款安全及买卖双方的利益.交易过程中无后顾之忧.
由于网络实名制的实施,要进行"支付宝个人实名人证",包括三个部分,分别为"填写个人信息","身份证件核实"和"银行帐户核实".每个部分在提交后,都要经过审核,通过后才能自己的开店之旅.
开店的条件:首先注册成淘宝会员并开通帐号,然后申请支付宝并通过人证,最后在淘宝网里发布10件宝贝,保持在出售状态,这样就可以在淘宝网免费开店了.
商品的发布很简单,点击我要卖,选择一口价或者拍卖,填写销售商品详细内容,以便买家了解.
会员在淘宝网成功交易一笔,就可以对交易对象做一次信用评价,信用评价分为表扬,鼓励和批评三种.表扬加一分,鼓励不加分,批评扣一分.
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一，带上你的身份证，准备两张身份证复印件！
二，到银行对银行保安大叔说我要办卡和网银，要填些什么单子？他就会给你两张东西填！
三，填好以后到柜台对柜台妹妹说，你要在网上买东西，需要开通网上银行，他就会帮你办了！大概要几十块吧！
四，网上银行开通成功，记牢相关密码，回来以后登录你开卡的银行的网上银行下载相关的控件，U盾/U宝 证书，并且下好驱动！
五，登录淘宝网，注册淘宝，填写相关资料，必须是真实的
六，淘宝必须绑定支付宝，操作也很容易
七，你现在就可以在网上购物了！
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http://hi.baidu.com/haoshizhed/item/837686f2acdc4009c6dc45e8?i48cv
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be she sneaked onto the grounds to watch the second task. ..."
"And what did you say?" Ron repeated, pounding his pestle down
so hard that it dented the desk.
"Well, I was too busy seeing whether you and Harry were okay to-"
"Fascinating though your social life undoubtedly is. Miss
Granger," said an icy voice right behind them, and all three of
them jumped, "I must ask you not to discuss it in my class. Ten
points from Gryffindor."
Snape had glided over to their desk while they were talking. The
whole class was now looking around at them; Malfoy took the
opportunity to flash POTTER STINKS across the dungeon at Harry.
"Ah . . . reading magazines under the table as well?" Snape
added, snatching up the copy of Witch Weekly. "A further ten points
from Gryffindor ... oh but of course ..." Snapes black eyes glittered
as they fell on Rita Skeeter's article. "Potter has to keep up with
his press cuttings. . . ."
The dungeon rang with the Slytherins' laughter, and an unpleasant
smile curled Snape's thin mouth. To Harry's fury, he began to read
the article aloud.
"'Harry Potter's Secret Heartache. . . dear, dear. Potter,
what's ailing you now? 'A boy like no other, perhaps. . .'"
Harry could feel his face burning. Snape was pausing at the
end of every sentence to allow the Slytherins a hearty laugh. The
article sounded ten times worse when read by Snape. Even Hermione
was blushing scarlet now.
"'. . . Harry Potter's well-wishers must hope that, next time,
he bestows his heart upon a worthier candidate.' How very touching,"
sneered Snape, rolling up the magazine to continued gales of laughter
from the Slytherins. "Well, I think I had better separate the three
of you, so you can keep your minds on your potions rather than
on your tangled love lives. Weasley, you stay here. Miss Granger,
over there, beside Miss Parkinson.
Potter - that table in front of my desk. Move. Now."
Furious, Harry threw his ingredients and his bag into his
cauldron and dragged it up to the front of the dungeon to the
empty table. Snape followed, sat down at his desk and watched
Harry unload his cauldron. Determined not to look at Snape, Harry
resumed the mashing of his scarab beetles, imagining each one to
have Snape's face.
"All this press attention seems to have inflated your already
over-large head. Potter,"
/
/
/
be she sneaked onto the grounds to watch the second task. ..."
"And what did you say?" Ron repeated, pounding his pestle down
so hard that it dented the desk.
"Well, I was too busy seeing whether you and Harry were okay to-"
"Fascinating though your social life undoubtedly is. Miss
Granger," said an icy voice right behind them, and all three of
them jumped, "I must ask you not to discuss it in my class. Ten
points from Gryffindor."
Snape had glided over to their desk while they were talking. The
whole class was now looking around at them; Malfoy took the
opportunity to flash POTTER STINKS across the dungeon at Harry.
"Ah . . . reading magazines under the table as well?" Snape
added, snatching up the copy of Witch Weekly. "A further ten points
from Gryffindor ... oh but of course ..." Snapes black eyes glittered
as they fell on Rita Skeeter's article. "Potter has to keep up with
his press cuttings. . . ."
The dungeon rang with the Slytherins' laughter, and an unpleasant
smile curled Snape's thin mouth. To Harry's fury, he began to read
the article aloud.
"'Harry Potter's Secret Heartache. . . dear, dear. Potter,
what's ailing you now? 'A boy like no other, perhaps. . .'"
Harry could feel his face burning. Snape was pausing at the
end of every sentence to allow the Slytherins a hearty laugh. The
article sounded ten times worse when read by Snape. Even Hermione
was blushing scarlet now.
"'. . . Harry Potter's well-wishers must hope that, next time,
he bestows his heart upon a worthier candidate.' How very touching,"
sneered Snape, rolling up the magazine to continued gales of laughter
from the Slytherins. "Well, I think I had better separate the three
of you, so you can keep your minds on your potions rather than
on your tangled love lives. Weasley, you stay here. Miss Granger,
over there, beside Miss Parkinson.
Potter - that table in front of my desk. Move. Now."
Furious, Harry threw his ingredients and his bag into his
cauldron and dragged it up to the front of the dungeon to the
empty table. Snape followed, sat down at his desk and watched
Harry unload his cauldron. Determined not to look at Snape, Harry
resumed the mashing of his scarab beetles, imagining each one to
have Snape's face.
"All this press attention seems to have inflated your already
over-large head. Potter,"
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http://hi.baidu.com/xultvmxabucfmsr/item/8aa6f39ea6271cc32916474c?ge5sasdcs
re was a kissing gate at the entrance to the graveyard. Hermione pushed it
open as quietly as possible and they edged through it. On either side of the slippery path
to the church doors, the snow lay deep and untouched. They moved off through the snow,
carving deep trenches behind them as they walked around the building, keeping to the
shadows beneath the brilliant windows. Behind the church, row upon row of snowy tombstones protruded from a blanket
of pale blue that was flecked with dazzling red, gold, and green wherever the reflections
from the stained glass hit the snow. Keeping his hand closed tightly on the wand in his
jacket pocket, Harry moved toward the nearest grave. “Look at this, it’s an Abbott, could be some long-lost relation of Hannah’s!” “Keep your voice down,” Hermione begged him. They waded deeper and deeper into the graveyard, gouging dark tracks into the
snow behind them, stooping to peer at the words on old headstones, every now and then
squinting into the surrounding darkness to make absolutely sure that they were
unaccompanied. “Harry, here!” Hermione was two rows of tombstones away; he had to wade back to her, his
heart positively banging in his chest. “Is it – ?” “No, but look!” She pointed to the dark stone. Harry stooped down and saw , upon the frozen,
lichen-spotted granite, the words Kendra Dumbledore and, a short way down her dates of
birth and death, and Her Daughter Ariana. There was also a quotation: Where your treasure is, there will your heart be also. So Rita Skeeter and Muriel had got some of their facts right. The Dumbledore
family had indeed lived here, and part of it had died here. Seeing the grave was worse than hearing about it. Harry could not help thinking
that he and Dumbledore both had deep roots in this graveyard, and that Dumbledore
ought to have told him so, yet he had never thought to share the connection. They could
have visited the place together; for a moment Harry imagined coming here with
Dumbledore, of what a b
re was a kissing gate at the entrance to the graveyard. Hermione pushed it
open as quietly as possible and they edged through it. On either side of the slippery path
to the church doors, the snow lay deep and untouched. They moved off through the snow,
carving deep trenches behind them as they walked around the building, keeping to the
shadows beneath the brilliant windows. Behind the church, row upon row of snowy tombstones protruded from a blanket
of pale blue that was flecked with dazzling red, gold, and green wherever the reflections
from the stained glass hit the snow. Keeping his hand closed tightly on the wand in his
jacket pocket, Harry moved toward the nearest grave. “Look at this, it’s an Abbott, could be some long-lost relation of Hannah’s!” “Keep your voice down,” Hermione begged him. They waded deeper and deeper into the graveyard, gouging dark tracks into the
snow behind them, stooping to peer at the words on old headstones, every now and then
squinting into the surrounding darkness to make absolutely sure that they were
unaccompanied. “Harry, here!” Hermione was two rows of tombstones away; he had to wade back to her, his
heart positively banging in his chest. “Is it – ?” “No, but look!” She pointed to the dark stone. Harry stooped down and saw , upon the frozen,
lichen-spotted granite, the words Kendra Dumbledore and, a short way down her dates of
birth and death, and Her Daughter Ariana. There was also a quotation: Where your treasure is, there will your heart be also. So Rita Skeeter and Muriel had got some of their facts right. The Dumbledore
family had indeed lived here, and part of it had died here. Seeing the grave was worse than hearing about it. Harry could not help thinking
that he and Dumbledore both had deep roots in this graveyard, and that Dumbledore
ought to have told him so, yet he had never thought to share the connection. They could
have visited the place together; for a moment Harry imagined coming here with
Dumbledore, of what a b
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