A German firm (one of our clients) that manufactures steel cores and industrial knives has the motto "Quality Is The Future".
Have they reached a level of creativity I can never hope to achieve?
Friday, April 29, 2005
Tuesday, April 26, 2005
A quality product by God... dry clean only
So God created the world in seven days. Perhaps a month would have been a better time frame, with five day weeks and two days of leisure every week to pursue some hobby like tatting maybe, or book-binding. A great way to unwind and refresh your mind before resuming the dirt works on Monday.
He probably did not take lunch or dinner breaks either. Shows. You can never create a work of exquisite beauty if you are suffering from acidity.
And looks like the use-by date is approaching. If not, then we definitely are not making sure it is kept in a cool, dry place, away from direct sunlight. After all the manufacturer is not responsible for deliberate mishandling of his product. And this world is most likely a collectible. Limited edition series. If we lose this, there may be no replacement.
Sometimes I think that maybe we all know of a secret place to go to when we have finally succeeded in destroying the world completely. Perhaps it is a secret stored in some obscure gene which will explode into our conscious mind when the bomb is ready to burst. Why else are we so cheerful about ravaging the planet, almost like a noble duty to be performed with resolve, not to be shirked from.
A secret place... God, I'm so excited!!
He probably did not take lunch or dinner breaks either. Shows. You can never create a work of exquisite beauty if you are suffering from acidity.
And looks like the use-by date is approaching. If not, then we definitely are not making sure it is kept in a cool, dry place, away from direct sunlight. After all the manufacturer is not responsible for deliberate mishandling of his product. And this world is most likely a collectible. Limited edition series. If we lose this, there may be no replacement.
Sometimes I think that maybe we all know of a secret place to go to when we have finally succeeded in destroying the world completely. Perhaps it is a secret stored in some obscure gene which will explode into our conscious mind when the bomb is ready to burst. Why else are we so cheerful about ravaging the planet, almost like a noble duty to be performed with resolve, not to be shirked from.
A secret place... God, I'm so excited!!
Thursday, September 09, 2004
My little pink bottle
My little bottle of moisturizer is a social worker.
As a moisturizer, it is not particularly great. It claims to be ayurvedic, containing wheat germ oil. It doesn’t. It is little more than perfumed water pretending to be a lotion. As soon as the water evaporates, your hands are not left feeling any softer than before.
But it smells of roses. Artificial of course, but nevertheless. The bottle sits here on my desk in my office, pink and inviting. People who sit by me for a chat pick it up in the course of the conversation. People passing by pick it up while they stand by for a moment. I even got a guy to use it once when he was feeling depressed because of a bad back.
‘You’re bored? Here let me pour a bit on your palm. Rub it on your hands and smell the sweet perfume.’
‘Feeling a little in the dumps? Come, have a dollop and pamper yourself for a moment.’
‘You look real happy! Celebrate with the fragrance of roses!’
Everyone knows this silly thing does not moisturize. Yet they will kidnap the bottle, adopt it while I’m away, spill the liquid in an attempt to get it out absent-mindedly. Something works here. Whether it is the smell, the act of rubbing it on your hands (I very much believe in touch therapy), the need to do something mindless while you’re unburdening your mind, I don’t know.
I had earlier thought of buying a bottle of Vaseline moisturizer once this one gets over. But Vaseline will not do anything other than soften hands. It has this very manufactured perfume. The bottle is a clinical looking blue-and-white. Hmmm… who wants soft hands anyway?
As a moisturizer, it is not particularly great. It claims to be ayurvedic, containing wheat germ oil. It doesn’t. It is little more than perfumed water pretending to be a lotion. As soon as the water evaporates, your hands are not left feeling any softer than before.
But it smells of roses. Artificial of course, but nevertheless. The bottle sits here on my desk in my office, pink and inviting. People who sit by me for a chat pick it up in the course of the conversation. People passing by pick it up while they stand by for a moment. I even got a guy to use it once when he was feeling depressed because of a bad back.
‘You’re bored? Here let me pour a bit on your palm. Rub it on your hands and smell the sweet perfume.’
‘Feeling a little in the dumps? Come, have a dollop and pamper yourself for a moment.’
‘You look real happy! Celebrate with the fragrance of roses!’
Everyone knows this silly thing does not moisturize. Yet they will kidnap the bottle, adopt it while I’m away, spill the liquid in an attempt to get it out absent-mindedly. Something works here. Whether it is the smell, the act of rubbing it on your hands (I very much believe in touch therapy), the need to do something mindless while you’re unburdening your mind, I don’t know.
I had earlier thought of buying a bottle of Vaseline moisturizer once this one gets over. But Vaseline will not do anything other than soften hands. It has this very manufactured perfume. The bottle is a clinical looking blue-and-white. Hmmm… who wants soft hands anyway?
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