Customer Journey Quotes

When the customers, just like the business owner, fail to see why they should buy this and not that, a business will collapse.

When a man journeys into a far country, he must be prepared to forget many of the things he has learned, and to acquire such customs as are inherent with existence in the new land; he must abandon the old ideals and the old gods, and oftentimes he must reverse the very codes by which his conduct has hitherto been shaped.

There are apparently few limitations either of time or space on where the psyche might journey and only the customs inspector employed by our own inhibitions restricts what it might bring back when it reenters the home country of everyday consciousness.

In the long run, our customers are going to determine whether we have a job or whether we do not. Their attitude toward us is going to be the factor determining our success.

The problem with success, even a little success, is that it changes you. You are no longer walking along the same precipice that drove you to do great work in the first place. Now you have something to defend: a reputation, money in the bank, a brand, real customer expectations. Success can take the edge away.

Believers may come from different cultures, countries, or customs, but we serve one God who unites us all.

The Call of the Wild They have cradled you in custom, they have primed you with their preaching, They have soaked you in convention through and through; They have put you in a showcase; you're a credit to their teaching– But can't you hear the wild?–it's calling you. Let us probe the silent places, let us seek what luck betide us; Let us journey to a lonely land I know. There's a whisper on the night-wind, there's a star agleam to guide us, And the wild is calling, calling . . . . let us go.

Journeying over many seas & through many countries I came dear brother to this pitiful leave-taking The last gestures by your graveside The futility of words over your quiet ashes. Life cleft us from each other Pointlessly depriving brother of brother Accept then, our parents' custom These offerings, this leave-taking Echoing forever, brother, through a brother's tears

I could wish to spy the nakedness of their hearts, and through the different disguises of customs, climates, and religion, find out what is good in them, to fashion my own by. It is for this reason that I have not seen the Palais Royal - nor the facade of the Louvre - nor have attempted to swell the catalogues we have of pictures, statues, and churches - I conceive every fair being as a temple, and would rather enter in, and see the original drawings and loose sketches hung up in it, than the Transfiguration of Raphael itself.

Constant comparisons are the stamp of the foreigner; one continually translates manners and customs of a new country into terms of his own, before he can fully comprehend them.

The series of interactions outline a so called customer journey through the offerings of the respective service.

Marketing 5.0, by definition, is the application of human-mimicking technologies to create, communicate, deliver, and enhance value across the customer journey.

Never Underestimate. Just as in any other negotiation, watching before acting is as important as listening before speaking. It's doubly important in China, however, where customs are time-honored and breaches of protocol not so quickly forgiven.

Anubis is associated with the mummification and protection of the dead for their journeys through Denver International Airport to the afterlife. He is usually portrayed as being half human and half jackal, and holding a metal detector in his hand ... Anubis is employed by the Department of Homeland Security to examine the hearts of all travellers to make sure they have not exceeded the weight limit for psychological baggage ... He is also shown frisking mummies and confiscating firearms and other contraband. It doesn't take much to tip the scales in favour of a dead body cavity search or an afterlifetime travel ban.

We all travelled light, taking with us only what we considered to be the bare essentials of life. When we opened our luggage for Customs inspection, the contents of our bags were a fair indication of character and interests. Thus Margo’s luggage contained a multitude of diaphanous garments, three books on slimming, and a regiment of small bottles each containing some elixir guaranteed to cure acne. Leslie’s case held a couple of roll-top pullovers and a pair of trousers which were wrapped round two revolvers, an air-pistol, a book called Be Your Own Gunsmith, and a large bottle of oil that leaked. Larry was accompanied by two trunks of books and a brief-case containing his clothes. Mother’s luggage was sensibly divided between clothes and various volumes on cooking and gardening. I travelled with only those items that I thought necessary to relieve the tedium of a long journey: four books on natural history, a butterfly net, a dog, and a jam-jar full of caterpillars all in imminent danger of turning into chrysalids. Thus, by our standards fully equipped, we left the clammy shores of England.

This story takes place a half a billion years ago-an inconceivably long time ago, when this planet would be all but recognizable to you. Nothing at all stirred on the land except the wind and the dust. Not a single blade of grass waved in the wind, not a single cricket chirped, not a single bird soared in the sky. All these things were tens of millions of years away in the future. But of course there was an anthropologist on hand. What sort of world would it be without an anthropologist? He was, however a very depressed and disillusioned anthropologist, for he'd been everywhere on the planet looking for someone to interview, and every tape in his knapsack was as blank as the sky. But one day as he was moping alongside the ocean he saw what seemed to be a living creature in the shallows off shore. It was nothing to brag about, just sort of a squishy blob, but it was the only prospect he'd seen in all his journeys, so he waded out to where it was bobbing in the waves. He greeted the creature politely and was greeted in kind, and soon the two of them were good friends. The anthropologist explained as well as he could that he was a student of life-styles and customs, and begged his new friend for information of this sort, which was readily forthcoming. ‘And now’, he said at last, ‘I'd like to get on tape in your own words some of the stories you tell among yourselves.’ ‘Stories?’ the other asked. ‘You know, like your creation myth, if you have one.’ ‘What is a creation myth?’ the creature asked. ‘Oh, you know,’ the anthropologist replied, ‘the fanciful tale you tell your children about the origins of the world.’ Well, at this, the creature drew itself up indignantly- at least as well as a squishy blob can do- and replied that his people had no such fanciful tale. ‘You have no account of creation then?’ ‘Certainly we have an account of creation,’ the other snapped. ‘But its definitely not a myth.’ ‘Oh certainly not,’ the anthropologist said, remembering his training at last. ‘Ill be terribly grateful if you share it with me.’ ‘Very well,’ the creature said. ‘But I want you to understand that, like you, we are a strictly rational people, who accept nothing that is not based on observation, logic, and scientific method.’ ‘"Of course, of course,’ the anthropologist agreed. So at last the creature began its story. ‘The universe,’ it said, ‘was born a long, long time ago, perhaps ten or fifteen billion years ago. Our own solar system-this star, this planet, and all the others- seem to have come into being some two or three billion years ago. For a long time, nothing whatever lived here. But then, after a billion years or so, life appeared.’ ‘Excuse me,’ the anthropologist said. ‘You say that life appeared. Where did that happen, according to your myth- I mean, according to your scientific account.’ The creature seemed baffled by the question and turned a pale lavender. ‘Do you mean in what precise spot?’ ‘No. I mean, did this happen on land or in the sea?’ ‘Land?’ the other asked. ‘What is land?’ ‘Oh, you know,’ he said, waving toward the shore, ‘the expanse of dirt and rocks that begins over there.’ The creature turned a deeper shade of lavender and said, ‘I cant imagine what you're gibbering about. The dirt and rocks over there are simply the lip of the vast bowl that holds the sea.’ ‘Oh yes,’ the anthropologist said, ‘I see what you mean. Quite. Go on.’ ‘Very well,’ the other said. ‘For many millions of centuries the life of the world was merely microorganisms floating helplessly in a chemical broth. But little by little, more complex forms appeared: single-celled creatures, slimes, algae, polyps, and so on.’ ‘But finally,’ the creature said, turning quite pink with pride as he came to the climax of his story, ‘but finally jellyfish appeared!

the invention of mummification. This was believed to be the key to a happy afterlife; certainly there were no disgruntled customers coming back to say otherwise.

In customs we are conservatives and traditionalists; we prefer the known evil to good yet to be learned, but in everything else we are always on the lookout for something new.

Being better or different from competitors is not enough anymore. Being a mission-focused organization will attract, engage, and retain well-aligned customers, colleagues, and collaborators.

The body count alone marks the plantation as a sacred place, and yet that's not what hallows the grounds to most. Traditionally, the plantation is a place where architecture and windows and wallpaper are lauded but the bodies who put them up are not. It is still marketed as the crux of the Old South, a place of manners, gentility, custom, and tradition; the South's cultural apogee. It is where much of Southern culture was born, and that includes much of Southern food, and it is the place where, by and large, black America was born - and that's precisely why I use the plantation as a place of reclamation.

There has been more bloodshed in the name of God than for any other cause. And it is all because people never attempt to reach the fountain-head. They are content only to comply with the customs of their forefathers, and want others to do the same.

Denying women access to the mosque, like denying them other rights, was simply clinging to customs, not faith, said Akram. In the case of education, he'd gone further: preventing women from pursuing knowledge, he said, was like the pre-Islamic custom of burying girls alive.

A curious country,” writes Van Mitten in his note-book, as he hastily jotted down some random impressions of the journey. “The women work in the fields and carry burthens, while the men spin flax and knit in wool.” The worthy Dutchman was not mistaken: such are still the customs in the distant province of Lazistan, where the second portion of the journey was commenced.

THE CUSTOMER JOURNEY CANVAS At the online touchpoint of the book we provide you with a canvas developed to support you when designing services. You can use it not only for yourself to get a quick overview of certain service processes, but also with providers for a self-portrayal and with customers and other stakeholders to explore and evaluate services. Besides visually simplifying existing services, you can also use it to sketch service improvements and innovations. It supports many of the tools presented later in this book. The Customer Journey Canvas is available under cc license on our website. Try it, adapt or modify it, take a snapshot and share how you use the canvas through our website. Watch out for service design thinking! NOTE:

In September 2020, Dawn Wooten, a nurse at Irwin County Detention Center, a private Immigration and Customs Enforcement (ICE) facility in Georgia, alleged in a whistleblower complaint that an obstetrician-gynaecologist was performing ‘unwarranted’ and often non-consensual mass hysterectomies on detained women. According to Wooten, ‘everybody he sees has a hysterectomy – just about everybody

Customs Internal Affairs knew everything I knew about Thornburgh, Bush, Noriega, Jose Busto, Jimmy Buffet, the Caribbean branch of CIA drug ops, the arming of Nicaragua’s Contras, and the destabilization of the Middle East through the arming of Afghanistan and Iraq. Mark and I knew we had strong support, and friends as dedicated as we are to dismantling the criminal corruption that was eroding the soul of America.

The Inquisition railed against the Mapuches for their polygamous customs, but overlooked the harems of captive Indian women accompanying the Spaniards: more mestizo children meant more subjects for the crown of Spain and more souls for the Christian religion. From those violent embraces come our peoples, and to this day men act as if they were on horseback surveying the world from on high, giving orders, conquering.

On a broad level, speculative fiction is about encounters with the unknown, whether that takes the form of aliens or werewolf or eldritch creatures beyond mortal ken. Similarly, much of the diaspora experience is tied to uncertainty. You journey to a strange land you’ve only heard about in stories, one where the language is unfamiliar and the customs perplexing. You have a few things with you—a sword, a bow, a bag full of spells and paperwork for a Green Card application—but it’s still a terrifying experience. While part of that terror is necessarily tied to survival, another element is the fear of change—the literal change in environment and the ways you change in response. For both SFF protagonists and new immigrants, there’s the major question of how much you choose to fight against or welcome those change while maintaining vestiges of your previous self.

So! Isn’t it worth one’s curiosity to study the different ways that the soul may leave the body and how, according to the character, the temperament, or even the local customs of a country, individuals face up to that supreme journey from being to nothingness? As for me, I can assure you of one thing: the more you have seen others die, the easier it becomes to die oneself. So, in my opinion, death may be a torment, but it is not an expiation.

It's fun to think about what kind of car you want to have. You compare specifications and customize everything your way. More importantly than the type of vehicle you want to get, is where you want to go with it. Where will this car take you if you were to have it today. Perhaps it's already yours. Now where will you drive tomorrow, next month, next year, for the rest of your life? Make your journey memorable by looking ahead into the distance. The distance is where we find our ultimate destination.

A survivor of incest and occultism himself, Greg Reid had cause to be aware of mind control ops that transported our nation’s missing blonde haired blue-eyed children over the Mexican border and on to various Arab destinations3. Every border guard, Customs official, and police officer in attendance was aware of this mind control ring. Photos of Columbian and Saudi private jets full of traumatized children were in abundance, yet “National Security” prevented them from bringing the perpetrators to justice.

Services are a series of interactions between customers and the service system through many different touchpoints during the customer journey. As the sole way that customers relate to your services, you would think that interactions would be centre stage for all service providers. So, why are so many services so bad? When Demos, a UK think tank, talk of a fundamental disconnection between services and people, one of the main reasons they give is the poor consideration of the interactions between the service provider and the customer – the interaction design. To value your customer, you need to spend some time understanding the interactions they have with your service, and that means two things. Firstly, viewing your service through the customers’ eyes, and secondly, designing in such a way that customers receive consistent experiences over time which they consider valuable. It’s strange, but repeatedly we see companies ignoring both of these aspects, with the consequence that customers feel ignored and value is lost. One

Starbucks Training. I had just read a book about habits and one of the most interesting sections in the book was about a guy who worked for Starbucks as a barista. He had a fly-off-the-handle kind of personality and part of his training at Starbucks was to go through exercises simulating how he would react to difficult customers. He anticipated both external and internal problems before they happened and was ready with a response for each one, so when those things happened, it wasn’t the first time he’d thought of how to deal with them.

The restaurant was waning, indifferently relaxing its illusion: for the late-comers a private illusion took its place. Their table seemed to stand on their own carpet; they had a sensation of custom, sedateness, of being inside small walls, as though dining at home again after her journey. She told him about her Mount Morris solitary suppers, in the middle of the library, the rim of the tray just not touching the base of the lamp... the fire behind her back softly falling in on its own ash-no it had not been possible to feel lonely among those feeling things.

the impression made upon them by the first view of a camel equipped and loaded for the desert. Custom, so fatal to other novelties, affects this feeling but little. At the end of long journeys with caravans, after years of residence with the Bedawin, the Western-born, wherever they may be, will stop and wait the passing of the stately brute. The charm is not in the figure, which not even love can make beautiful; nor in the movement, the noiseless stepping, or the broad careen. As is the kindness of the sea to a ship, so that of the desert to its creature. It clothes him with all its mysteries;

Masculinity is not about being the biggest, the fastest, the strongest, the one who sleeps with the most girls, and the one who has the most money. The one who has the most accomplishments is not the most masculine. In fact, it is often the men who covet these things most who are covering and compensating for the greatest insecurities. Let us revere the one who loves others deeply, loves himself deeply, and has a dream that he is inspired to live with and by and through. He is a man. He does not stand unmoved or untouched in the face of truly moving experiences. He does not judge the totality of his life or anyone else’s life by the totals on the scoreboard as the clock ticks down to zero. He does not use money as a proxy for emotional connection nor material possessions as the measure of his self-worth. He does not define his manhood by the number of women he has conquered. He does not always fight fire with fire; sometimes he doesn’t need to fight at all. He does not meet seriousness with silliness when it is seriousness that is required. He does not take risks for risks’ sake, because he does not hide from his frailty, his mortality, or his humanity. He does not pretend to know everything about anything, nor is he afraid to admit when he knows nothing about something. And perhaps most important of all, he does not walk around thinking he’s The Man. No, the masculine man goes through a journey, a process of self-discovery, and figures out what he needs to do to acquire the tools, knowledge, wisdom, grace, love, passion, and joy to pursue his destiny. His destiny is his dreams. Those may evolve over time, but in their pursuit, he is not breaking down anyone else or hurting anyone else. He is not at war with other people, conquering them. He is the one joining forces, searching for the win-win. He is the one who is lifting others up, inspiring others through his journey and his own process (in which he is finding ways to create value along the way). He is the hero of his own journey. And in so being, he is looking for every way to have the best relationships possible with his family, friends, his romantic partner, his colleagues, or his customers. He’s finding ways to be the best possible version of himself. Masculinity is about discovering yourself and owning what you find. It’s about being kind to others, and pursuing your dreams with all the passion and energy you can muster. It’s about doing something that is meaningful to you that brings value to others. That’s how you build a legacy.

As I grew into boyhood, I extended the range of my observations. My holiday afternoons were spent in rambles about the surrounding country. I made myself familiar with all its places famous in history or fable. I knew every spot where a murder or robbery had been committed, or a ghost seen. I visited the neighboring villages, and added greatly to my stock of knowledge, by noting their habits and customs, and conversing with their sages and great men. I even journeyed one long summer's day to the summit of the most distant hill, whence I stretched my eye over many a mile of terra incognita, and was astonished to find how vast a globe I inhabited.

In terms of understanding the patriarchal struggle for control of women's bodies, the issue of blood is a major preoccupation. For not only did women bleed every month, from girlhood for all over their adult lives; every stage of their journey as women, every passage from one state to the next (menarche, defloration, childbirth) was also marked by the flow of blood with its frighteningly ambivalent signal of both life and death. The greater the danger the stronger the taboo. All these "courses" of women's lives have triggered an intricate and often savage set of myths, beliefs and customs in which the containment of cultural fears overrode any personal concern for the female who was ostensibly the cause and center of it all.

To really understand it, you'll need to know a lot," he said. "To understand the stories of the Prophets in it, you need to know your Bible stories." I gulped. My knowledge of the Bible was cobbled together from Renaissance paintings and reading Paradise Lost in sophomore English. To understand the text, you need to understand the context, the Sheikh continued. To make sense of the rules it sets down, you need to understand Arab society during the age it was revealed: "So if you don't know the customs and traditions of the Prophet Muhammad's time, you can't make sense of it." My background in seventh-century Arabia was rudimentary, and my Arabic nonexistent. The Sheikh beamed as he reached for his coat. "And of course, if you're lazy, you can't make sense of it.

What is most dystopian about all of the digital houses designed for customized consumption is the implication that the entire landscape could be covered with new houses lacking any social or economic neighborhood context. Designers minimize the need for family or neighborhood interaction if they plan for digital surveillance as a route to ordering mass-produced commodities as well as handling work and civic life. If many external activities, such as paid work, exercise, shopping, seeking entertainment, and voting, are able to be done in-house through the various electronic communications systems, reasons for going outside decrease. The residents become isolated, although the house continues to function as a container for mass-produced goods and electronic media. In a landscape bristling with tens of thousands of digital houses and cell towers, where the ground is laced with hundreds of thousands of miles of fiber-optic cable, neighborhoods may not exist. Car journeys involving traffic problems may disappear, although the roads will be clogged with delivery vans.

In the casual opinion of most Americans, I am an old man, and therefore of little account, past my best, fading in a pathetic diminuendo while flashing his AARP card; like the old in America generally, either invisible or someone to ignore rather than respect, who will be gone soon, and forgotten, a gringo in his degringolade. Naturally I am insulted by this, but out of pride I don’t let my indignation show. My work is my reply, my travel is my defiance. And I think of myself in the Mexican way, not as an old man but as most Mexicans regard a senior, an hombre de juicio, a man of judgement; not ruco, worn out, beneath notice, someone to be patronized, but owed the respect traditionally accorded to an elder, someone (in the Mexican euphemism) of La Tercera Edad, the Third Age, who might be called Don Pablo or tio (uncle) in deference. Mexican youths are required by custom to surrender their seat to anyone older. They know the saying: Mas sabe el diablo por viejo, que por diablo - The devil is wise because he’s old, not because he’s the devil. But “Stand aside, old man, and make way for the young” is the American way. As an Ancient Mariner of a sort, I want to hold the doubters with my skinny hand, fix them with a glittering eye, and say, “I have been to a place where none of you have ever been, where none of you can ever go. It is the past. I spent decades there and I can say, you don’t have the slightest idea.

American Girl dolls are nice. But they aren’t amazing. In recent years Toys“ R” Us, Walmart, and even Disney have all tried to challenge American Girl’s success with similar dolls (Journey Girls, My Life, and Princess & Me)—at a fraction of the price—but to date, no one has made a dent. American Girl is able to command a premium price because it’s not really selling dolls. It’s selling an experience. When you see a company that has a product or service that no one has successfully copied, like American Girl, rarely is it the product itself that is the source of the long-term competitive advantage, something American Girl founder Pleasant Rowland understood. “You’re not trying to just get the product out there, you hope you are creating an experience that will do the job perfectly,” says Rowland. You’re creating experiences that, in effect, make up the product’s résumé: “Here’s why you should hire me.” That’s why American Girl has been so successful for so long, in spite of numerous attempts by competitors to elbow in. My wife, Christine, and I were willing to splurge on the dolls because we understood what they stood for. American Girl dolls are about connection and empowering self-belief—and the chance to savor childhood just a bit longer. I have found that creating the right set of experiences around a clearly defined job—and then organizing the company around delivering those experiences (which we’ll discuss in the next chapter)—almost inoculates you against disruption. Disruptive competitors almost never come with a better sense of the job. They don’t see beyond the product.

Beyoncé and Rihanna were pop stars. Pop stars were musical performers whose celebrity had exploded to the point where they could be identified by single words. You could say BEYONCÉ or RIHANNA to almost anyone anywhere in the industrialized world and it would conjure a vague neurological image of either Beyoncé or Rihanna. Their songs were about the same six subjects of all songs by all pop stars: love, celebrity, fucking, heartbreak, money and buying ugly shit. It was the Twenty-First Century. It was the Internet. Fame was everything. Traditional money had been debased by mass production. Traditional money had ceased to be about an exchange of humiliation for food and shelter. Traditional money had become the equivalent of a fantasy world in which different hunks of vampiric plastic made emphatic arguments about why they should cross the threshold of your home. There was nothing left to buy. Fame was everything because traditional money had failed. Fame was everything because fame was the world’s last valid currency. Beyoncé and Rihanna were part of a popular entertainment industry which deluged people with images of grotesque success. The unspoken ideology of popular entertainment was that its customers could end up as famous as the performers. They only needed to try hard enough and believe in their dreams. Like all pop stars, Beyoncé and Rihanna existed off the illusion that their fame was a shared experience with their fans. Their fans weren’t consumers. Their fans were fellow travelers on a journey through life. In 2013, this connection between the famous and their fans was fostered on Twitter. Beyoncé and Rihanna were tweeting. Their millions of fans were tweeting back. They too could achieve their dreams. Of course, neither Beyoncé nor Rihanna used Twitter. They had assistants and handlers who packaged their tweets for maximum profit and exposure. Fame could purchase the illusion of being an Internet user without the purchaser ever touching a mobile phone or a computer. That was a difference between the rich and the poor. The poor were doomed to the Internet, which was a wonderful resource for watching shitty television, experiencing angst about other people’s salaries, and casting doubt on key tenets of Mormonism and Scientology. If Beyoncé or Rihanna were asked about how to be like them and gave an honest answer, it would have sounded like this: “You can’t. You won’t. You are nothing like me. I am a powerful mixture of untamed ambition, early childhood trauma and genetic mystery. I am a portal in the vacuum of space. The formula for my creation is impossible to replicate. The One True God made me and will never make the like again. You are nothing like me.

that everything that had ever happened to me had been a loving step in that process of my progression. every person, every circumstance, and every incident was custom created for me. It was as if the entire universe existed for my higher good and development. I felt so loved, so cherished, and so honored. I realized that not only was I being embraced by deity, but also that I myself was divine, and that we all are. I knew that there are no accidents in this life. That everything happens for a reason. yet we always get to choose how we will experience what happens to us here. I could exercise my will in everything, even in how I felt about the wreck and the death of my family members. God didn't want me to hurt and feel put upon as if my son and wife had been taken from me. He was simply there assisting me to decide how I was going to experience it. He was providing me with the opportunity, in perfect love, to exercise my personal agency in this entire situation. I knew my wife and son were gone. They had died months earlier, but time didn't exist where I was at that moment. rather than having them ripped away from me, I was being given the opportunity to actually hand them over to God. To let them go in peace, love, and gratitude. Everything suddenly made sense. Everything had divine order. I could give my son to God and not have him taken away from me. I felt my power as a creator and cocreator with God to literally let go of all that had happened to me. I held my baby son as God himself held me. I experienced the oneness of all of it. Time did not matter. Only love and order existed. Tamara and Griffin had come into my life as perfect teachers. And in leaving me in such a way, they continued as perfect teachers to bring me to that point of remembering who I was. remembering that I was created in God's image and actually came from Him. I was aware now that I could actually walk with God, empowered by what I was learning in my life. I felt the divine energy of the being behind me inviting me to let it all go and give Griffin to Him. In all that peace and knowledge, I hugged my little boy tightly one last time, kissed him on the cheek, and gently laid him back down in the crib. I willingly gave him up. No one would ever take him away from me again. He was mine. We were one, and I was one with God. As soon as I breathed in all that peace, I awoke, back into the pain and darkness of my hospital bed, but with greater perspective. I marveled at what I had just experienced. It was not just a dream. It felt too real. It was real to me, far more real than the pain, the grief, and my hospital bed. Griffin was alive in a place more real than anything here. And Tamara was there with him. I knew it. As the years have passed, I've often wondered how I could have put my son back in the crib the way I did. Maybe I should have held on and never let go. But in that place, it all made sense. I realized that no one ever really dies. We always live on. I had experienced a God as real and tangible as we are. He knows our every heartache, yet allows us to experience and endure them for our growth. His is the highest form of love; He allows us to become what we will. He watches as we create who we are. He allows us to experience life in a way that makes us more like Him, divine creators of our own destiny. My experience showed me purpose and order. I knew there was a master plan far greater than my limited earthly vision. I also learned that my choices were mine alone to make. I got to decide how I felt, and that made all the difference in the universe. even in this tragedy, I got to determine the outcome. I could choose to be a victim of what had happened or create something far greater.

The population of Syria is so inharmonious a gathering of widely different races in blood, in creed, and in custom, that government is both difficult and dangerous.”— Sir Mark Sykes, Dar Ul-Islam: A Record of a Journey through Ten of the Asiatic Provinces of Turkey (1904)

The population of Syria is so inharmonious a gathering of widely different races in blood, in creed, and in custom, that government is both difficult and dangerous.”— Sir Mark Sykes, Dar Ul-Islam: A Record of a Journey through Ten of the Asiatic Provinces of Turkey

It is our reaction that creates stress and this we can change" This book will start you on a journey that will give you the ability to handle any difficult customer with ease. In order to feel no stress we all have to go through many instances of being stressed, so we can learn one step at a time to be free of it.

Buyer Legends is a business process that uses storytelling techniques to map the critical paths a prospective buyer might follow on his journey to becoming a buyer. This process aligns strategy to brand story to the buyer’s actual experience on their customer journey. These easy-to-tell stories reveal the opportunities and gaps in the customer’s experience versus the current marketing & sales process. These legends communicate the brand’s story intent and critical touch point responsibilities within every level of an organization, from the boardroom to the stockroom. Buyer Legends reconcile the creative process to data analysis; aligning metrics with previously hard-to-measure marketing, sales, and customer service processes. The first result is improved execution, communications, and testing. The second result is a big boost to the bottom line.

Busyness is certainly one of the reasons that owners don’t think about whether or not their journey is taking them to a place they really want to wind up. They’re constantly preoccupied—it goes with the territory—and figuring out the ultimate destination doesn’t seem particularly urgent alongside, say, meeting the next payroll or landing the next big customer

Each person has to face this challenge – you must search inside yourself. The props – surroundings, interactions, rituals, customs and superstitions – are just palliatives. You have to achieve your balance on your own; it has to come from the self. Once you get there, you can afford the luxury of lavishing your life with the pleasures of your drifting journey.

Over time, one of this engine's most potent impacts is in prioritizing investments for customer-driven growth by shifting the annual planning process. Instead of starting with the silos, leaders start with the customers' lives, identify priorities, and then determine collectively the investments to improve them to earn the right to growth. Without alignment among your executive team to regularly review the customer journey that this engine affords, investments are not fully optimized. Tactical actions are budgeted and implemented by silo, but complete customer experiences that drive growth are not improved. Rinse and repeat.

In this matter of monastic tradition, we must carefully distinguish between tradition and convention. In many monasteries there is very little living tradition, and yet the monks think themselves to be traditional. Why? Because they cling to an elaborate set of conventions. Convention and tradition may seem on the surface to be much the same thing. But this superficial resemblance only makes conventionalism all the more harmful. In actual fact, conventions are the death of real tradition as they are of all real life. They are parasites which attach themselves to the living organism of tradition and devour all its reality, turning it into a hollow formality. Tradition is living and active, but convention is passive and dead. Tradition does not form us automatically: we have to work to understand it. Convention is accepted passively, as a matter of routine. Therefore convention easily becomes an evasion of reality. It offers us only pretended ways of solving the problems of living— a system of gestures and formalities. Tradition really teaches us to live and shows us how to take full responsibility for our own lives. Thus tradition is often flatly opposed to what is ordinary, to what is mere routine. But convention, which is a mere repetition of familiar routines, follows the line of least resistance. One goes through an act, without trying to understand the meaning of it all, merely because everyone else does the same. Tradition, which is always old, is at the same time ever new because it is always reviving - born again in each new generation, to be lived and applied in a new and particular way. Convention is simply the ossification of social customs. The activities of conventional people are merely excuses for not acting in a more integrally human way. Tradition nourishes the life of the spirit: convention merely disguises its interior decay. Finally, tradition is creative. Always original, it always opens out new horizons for an old journey. Convention, on the other hand, is completely unoriginal. It is slavish imitation. It is closed in upon itself and leads to complete sterility. Tradition teaches us how to love, because it develops and expands our powers, and shows us how to give ourselves to the world in which we live, in return for all that we have received from it. Convention breeds nothing but anxiety and fear. It cuts us off from the sources of all inspiration. It ruins our productivity. It locks us up within a prison of frustrated effort. It is, in the end, only the mask for futility and for despair. Nothing could be better than for a monk to live and grow up in his monastic tradition, and nothing could be more fatal than for him to spend his life tangled in a web of monastic conventions.

The customs of all countries are strange to untrained eyes. —ETSU INAGAKI SUGIMOTO, A Daughter of the Samurai, 1926

It is important to note that, despite the fact that women cry at these occasions, the public mourning is not considered a sad event-it is actually a celebration and send-off party in which the soul of the deceased is set on the journey to its ancestors to begin a new life. About a year after burial, elaborate celebrations take place to honor the deceased, who is now an ancestor.

loftybuildinggroup_com_au Loft building group located in Adelaide. We are a home builders. Make your custom house with us. There are various benefits in selecting a custom home builder over those who easily go off a house plan and make nominal changes. Chief of these advantage are client involvement, ductility and choice. Only a truly custom built home can fulfill all of the specifications of the client who commissions it; only a sincerely custom built home is completely tailor-made. When you selecting a new custom home builder, you work with builders, designers and architects to create a eyesight of your real dream house that can then become tangibility; and you are confluent fully in every step of that journey. You can supply a basic floor plan or commission a floor plan to be drawn up with your distinct needs in mind. Unequal production homes, which are generally built on land axiom by the production building company, a custom home can be built on current land that you own or land that you purchase, in any nearest area you choose, including already situated neighborhoods.

Creating the Customer Success Category No one sets out to create a category from day one—there are a series of observations that can signal that you and your company may already be on the journey.

Others have passed faith onto us and we borrow those customs and traditions that help form us. But, sometimes, we also need to adopt new practices that helps us on the journey.

Also, I should note here that most of your family and friends will mean well when they express their reservations about something that’s not common. It comes from a place of love and care, but also from a place of tradition, norms and customs. It will also come from fear of the unknown, of breaking new territory. So, they mean well. But just because it’s well-intended doesn’t make it easier on you. Most of us who are thinking about doing or being something different already have their own self-doubts, and if we have to add on the burden of family members’ and friends’ doubts, it makes it even harder to progress—to get on and do it.

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Next, the memo summarized seven priorities: be recognized as the undisputed coffee authority; engage and inspire our partners with better training and new benefits; reignite customers’ emotional attachment to our brand; expand our stores around the world, but try to make each one feel like the heart of the local neighborhood; be a leader in ethical sourcing and environmental impact efforts; create new, relevant products to help grow revenue; operate a more efficient and profitable business model.

When I thought about our thicket of challenges both known and unknown, the word that came to mind was familiar and apt: “Onward.” More than just a rallying cry or an attitude, “onward” seemed to connote the dual nature of how Starbucks had to do battle and do business in these increasingly complex, uncertain times. “Onward” implied optimism with eyes wide open, a never-ending journey that honored the past while reinventing the future. “Onward” meant fighting with not just heart and hope, but also intelligence and operational rigor, constantly striving to balance benevolence with accountability. “Onward” was about forging ahead with steadfast belief in ourselves while putting customers’ needs first and respecting the power of competition. Yes, everyone at Starbucks could indulge his or her passion—be it for coffee, the environment, marketing, or design—but only if we did not lose sight of the need for profits. “Onward” was about getting dirty but coming out clean; balancing our responsibility to shareholders with social conscience; juggling research and finances with instinct and humanity. And “onward” described the fragile act of balancing by which Starbucks would survive our crucible and thrive beyond it. With heads held high but feet firmly planted in reality. This was how we would win. I knew this to be true.

When a brand commits itself to its customer's journey, to helping resolve their internal, external and philosophical problems and then inspires them with an aspirational identity, they do more than sell products, they change lives.

A lot of marketers talk about the customer value journey, and equally important is the customer Life Journey. It is not always how a business relationship starts that people remember, it is the end. So you need to remember to always plan your customers entire life long journey with you, and if you are not always continually adding value to your clients, then they will leave you faster than a one night Stand, and sometimes with the same feelings. If you are aggressive in approaching and winning leads and sales, you should be equally aggressive in keeping them and adding life to the relationship.

walked through a small park and up the steps of the stern gray building of US Customs and Border Protection. I strolled down the ramp and pushed through a turnstile, no one looking at my passport. Glancing through the chain-link fence on the Mexican side of the building, I saw a line of people—a long line, stretching down the stairs and through a foyer and along a passageway, hundreds, perhaps a thousand people waiting to enter the United States.

THE JOURNEY EVERY CUSTOMER TAKES

God customizes deserts for each of us. Joseph’s desert is being betrayed and forgotten in an Egyptian jail. Moses lives in the Midian desert as an outcast for forty years. The Israelites live in the desert for forty years. David runs from Saul in the desert. All of them hold on to the hope of God’s Word yet face the reality of their situations. The theme of the desert is so strong in Scripture that Jesus reenacts the desert journey at the beginning of his ministry by fasting for forty days in a desert while facing Satan’s temptation. His desert is living with the hope of the resurrection yet facing the reality of his Father’s face turned against him at the cross.

Never forget, we are not telling our story or even talking about our products. We are always inviting our customers on a journey in which their lives are made better through the use of our products.

The key to marketing—and sales for that matter—is to invite the customer on a journey at the pace of a natural, healthy relationship.

There are apparently few limitations either of time or space on where the psyche might journey, and only the customs inspector employed by our own inhibitions restricts what it might bring back when it reenters the home country of everyday consciousness.

Once we identify who our customer is, we have to ask ourselves what they want as it relates to our brand. The catalyst for any story is that the hero wants something. The rest of the story is a journey about discovering whether the hero will get what they want.

Making the movie” is the term that a venture capitalist friend applies to the process of building a start-up. In my friend’s tech-company-as-movie analogy, the VCs are the producers and the CEO is the leading man. If possible, you try to get a star who looks like Mark Zuckerberg—young, preferably a college dropout, with maybe a touch of Asperger’s. You write a script—the “corporate narrative.” You have the origin myth, the eureka moment, and the hero’s journey, with obstacles to overcome, dragons to slay, markets to disrupt and transform. You invest millions to build the company—like shooting the movie—and then millions more to promote it and acquire customers. “By the time you get to the IPO, I want to see people lined up around the block waiting to get into the theater on opening night. That’s what the first day of trading is like. It’s the opening weekend for the film. If you do things right, you put asses in the seats, and you cash out.

In a broader sense, visualizations inform strategy. They are a key way of seeing the market from the customer’s perspective. Mapping experiences isn’t a nice-to-have design tool; it’s a must-have for strategic alignment.

When you design a product or service You must understand The whole customer journey Not just one small part

The glaring exception to that custom was the United States, even before the Trump-era retreat from the international community. The National Weather Service sent not its director but its deputy director, a gesture universally understood as a slight to the weather community as a whole. To compensate, or maybe rather to reiterate the arrogance of the gesture, the United States contributes 20 percent of the WMO’s budget, double the next largest member (Japan) and three times the amount from G7 states like France and Germany. (The formula is determined in parallel with funding to the United Nations as a whole.)

I came across one company called NuManna, named in reference to manna, the foodstuff the god of the Old Testament had provided for the Israelites during the time of their wandering after the Exodus. The company marketed gigantic buckets of freeze-dried powdered foodstuffs with a shelf life of a quarter of a century, whose varieties included, but were by no means limited to, oatmeal, hearty beans and beef, cheddar broccoli soup, and pasta primavera mix with freeze-dried chicken chunks. In the Testimonials section of NuManna’s website, I read a brief blurb from a customer named Reagan B., which seemed to me an unwitting encapsulation of the absurdity of the entire apocalypse preparedness project. “This stuff is awesome,” wrote Reagan. “My wife has been away for a while so I ate NuManna while she was gone. It was simple and everything I had was really good. I wish NuManna was around when I bought a bunch of bulk food in the past from the Mormons. I don’t want to have all these ingredients and put them together. NuManna was simple and great tasting. I gave away all my other bulk food.” At first this comment seemed purely and unimprovably comic in its conjuring of a character who, for all his determination to be adequately prepared for the collapse of civilization due to nuclear war or the impact of a massive asteroid, was also the type of man for whom not having his wife around to cook dinner—which seemed to me to be at worst a Domino’s Pizza situation—forced him to crack open his apocalyptic food stash. (Equally bewildering, equally wonderful, was his purchasing food in bulk only to conclude that he lacked the stomach for the labor of assembling all these ingredients into meals.)

A winning software factory must be completely immersed in the context of the customer journey —

I suggest that you think about your customer’s journey as a unified experience that has three key phases: motivation, education, and adoption. Motivation refers to the reasons your prospective customer has for seeking you out and the potential needs your product can satisfy. It also asks the question, “What experiences or emotions motivate the customer to move to the next stage of the journey?” Answering that question helps you provide what the customer needs to progress to the next phase, education.

ONCE, IN A HOUSE ON EGYPT STREET, there lived a rabbit who was made almost entirely of china. He had china arms and china legs, china paws and a china head, a china torso and a china nose. His arms and legs were jointed and joined by wire so that his china elbows and china knees could be bent, giving him much freedom of movement. His ears were made of real rabbit fur, and beneath the fur, there were strong, bendable wires, which allowed the ears to be arranged into poses that reflected the rabbit’s mood — jaunty, tired, full of ennui. His tail, too, was made of real rabbit fur and was fluffy and soft and well shaped. The rabbit’s name was Edward Tulane, and he was tall. He measured almost three feet from the tip of his ears to the tip of his feet; his eyes were painted a penetrating and intelligent blue. In all, Edward Tulane felt himself to be an exceptional specimen. Only his whiskers gave him pause. They were long and elegant (as they should be), but they were of uncertain origin. Edward felt quite strongly that they were not the whiskers of a rabbit. Whom the whiskers had belonged to initially — what unsavory animal — was a question that Edward could not bear to consider for too long. And so he did not. He preferred, as a rule, not to think unpleasant thoughts. Edward’s mistress was a ten-year-old, dark-haired girl named Abilene Tulane, who thought almost as highly of Edward as Edward thought of himself. Each morning after she dressed herself for school, Abilene dressed Edward. The china rabbit was in possession of an extraordinary wardrobe composed of handmade silk suits, custom shoes fashioned from the finest leather and designed specifically for his rabbit feet, and a wide array of hats equipped with holes so that they could easily fit over Edward’s large and expressive ears. Each pair of well-cut pants had a small pocket for Edward’s gold pocket watch. Abilene wound this watch for him each morning.

The span of the attention I have got from the audience is directly proportional to the time taken by them to understand it wholly. It simply means if I want to continue getting their attention, I would have to endlessly seek (till I reach the final point) them through my words without letting them down in any dilemma. It is so consistent an approach that I can’t get any extra time but the time they read the preceding. No matter what I must stick to the same pattern unless I want to divert their attention. The moment I divert them I am on the different track but parallel. The whole journey or communication or the conversation becomes worthful only if I can reach the destination without any distraction and distortion. Mindful I should be in switching the tracks because if not I end up putting or leaving them half way unaware of where to go on an unknown track. I must not lose them halfway, I keep that in my mind. It holds true when at first, audience is already impressed with your beginning gestures, conversational lines and an excellent entry. They then wait for something miraculous or magnificent to happen at the end. The entire process is a chain of a peculiar starting point, intimate intermediate lines and a particular ending dot. At last, from the top view, it seems that you have taken your audience via a lengthy diagonal roadway but it’s not. The whole theory is named as Parallel Perpendicular Process, where I use the oxymoron because you know where you want your audience to be at but you are improvised alongside the shifting of tracks whenever audience is one the verge of divergence and you apply your instinct immediately to converge. This is a cognitive advertising theory that can sell An Old Product to the respective customer A Joke to the laughable audience A First Impression to the corresponding prospects A New Product to the fresh market An Inspiring Speech to the potential crowd An Advertising to the target spectators The big benefit of this, if applied continuously, it gets from the start to the end on a go. While the disadvantage of it may go simultaneously, this theory fails when the audience is generic because it’s niche that this follows.

The lineage continues with more elements considered highly nontraditional. According to ancient tribal custom, eldest sons always inherited and younger sons frequently received little or nothing, yet for generations Matthew’s list does not contain a single eldest son. Abraham completely broke with custom when he made Isaac his inheritor instead of Ishmael, his eldest son. Jacob, the second son of Isaac, tricked his way into his inheritance in place of Esau, his elder brother. In turn, Jacob named his fourth son, Judah, as heir, bypassing three older sons and again deviating from the community’s beliefs and expectations. Abraham was the father of Isaac, and Isaac the father of Jacob, and Jacob the father of Judah and his brothers. (1:2)

Customer Review 5.0 out of 5 starsA crime adventure story for the car enthusiast! ByAmazon Customeron March 9, 2016 Format: Kindle Edition This is a fast-paced story with surprising complexity from a first-time author. The story takes the reader on a thrilling journey across the globe that includes South Africa, Namibia, Singapore, Sri Lanka, England and France as a top racing driver finds himself inadvertently intertwined with criminals. The author's. attention to the detail of the cars in the story almost makes them characters themselves! He is clearly a car enthusiast with a real talent for crime writing. This book will appeal to anybody who loves a rollicking crime story, but especially to those who love their cars, motor racing and car chases!

He squatted on his haunches, and I joined him. Muscovites, with the insistent air of urbane sophisticates, like to note that the pose is not native to Russia. Balancing yourself on your heels, often for hours, to wait or talk is a custom of the Caucasus and Central Asia, but one that Russians at some point ages ago seem to have taken as their own.

Entrepreneurship is messy. Startup life is messy. Growing a business is messy. I guarantee you it NEVER looks as glamorous on the inside as it does from the outside. If you are comparing what is going on in your company to what you see your peers and competitors doing, and feel behind or inadequate, or in any way not up to par..... Just let it go. You have no idea what they are going through that you cannot see. You never will. You don't need to. Take a deep breath. Stay on your path. Stay focused on your mission. Stay focused on your customers. Stay focused on your team. Your family. Your health. Find connection and joy in your own journey. Allow yourself to be inspired and fueled by others' success, but by all means, do not allow yourself to get derailed or thrown off of your path. Stay focused.

When I was a young and aspiring speaker, I sought mentorship from a man who had been a Dale Carnegie trainer for decades. Eagerly wanting to know how to improve my stage presence and build my career, I contacted Dr. Joe Carnley in Destin, Florida and invited him out to lunch. After we placed our order at the Harbor Docks Restaurant, he dove right in and gave me some of the best advice of my life. He said, “Susan, you have to make them laugh! When they leave your presentations, you want them to feel better and leave happier than when they came in. Help them enjoy your time together.” He continued to describe the magical power that humor has over the human spirit. When we craft humor into our speeches, we can take our audiences on a journey they will never forget. Immediately after our delightful lunch ended, I drove straight to a Books-a-Million store and headed for the humor section. Since I was not a particularly funny person, I needed all the help I could get. For over an hour I stood there reading titles, flipping through funny books, and enjoying outrageous belly laughs, giggles, and snorts. People were staring, and probably thinking, “I want what she is having!” The humor section was one of the smallest in the entire bookstore, but it may well have been the most important. When I turned around, I noticed the opposite aisle was the “Self-Improvement” section. It ran half the length of the store and displayed hundreds of books. At that cathartic moment, I had a huge "Ah-Ha" moment.

The characteristic sounds of a trumpet, oboe, banjo, piano, or violin are due to the distinct cocktail of harmonic frequencies that each instrument produces. I love the image of an invisible cosmic bartender, expert in creating hundreds of different harmonic cocktails, who can serve up a banjo to this customer, a kettledrum to the next, and an erhu or a trombone to the one after that

We hear more about dignity and “pensive luster” from cultures where the patina of age is highly valued, from the shutaku (soil from handling) in Chinese culture or the Japanese concept of nare that garners a reverence over “shallow brilliance,” objects with too much finish. 12 In France, low radiance, the mere shine off a coin, was once enough to mark the start and end of the workday in winter, it was “the moment when there was not enough light to distinguish a denier [a small coin] of Tours from a denier of Paris.” 13 The light that begins and ends these uncommon journeys requires a similar sensitivity to their sheen. It often takes a blaze to see things anew. So age upon age has had its icons who went unsung during their lifetime. When Herman Melville died as a customs agent at the Port of New York in 1891, his widow complained that the copyright of White Jacket (1850) and Moby-Dick (1851) had no worth; they “give no income and have no market value.” 14 It took nearly seventy years for Moby-Dick to receive its critical acclaim. In the final months of writing the book, Melville suspected as much, and acrimoniously foretold his fate: “though I wrote the Gospels in this century, I should die in the gutter.” 15 Our lodestars often shine a few foot-candles below the level we are prepared to see.

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The next tech is applied to help marketers to create, communicate, deliver, and enhance value across the customer journey. The objective is to create a new customer experience (CX) that is frictionless and compelling

To ensure customers are being delighted, the bank uses data instrumentation to measure, monitor, and control processes by providing real-time knowledge of customers’ journeys.

I keep this my dirty little secret for years, he was my true first, yet it was not the most romantic yet it was something, now looking back now how is the loser, it did it long before, yet it was with him so it was not cool, I never- ever said this to anyone, that he took me. Yet play around like that with a boy that was me, he wanted to know so I said okay. It was the first time seeing all that- you know, at least mine was real, and not like time two at a party. This thing is so high- I get sick of feeling so short at like four-foot, on top that I can see the world by looking down, and they are looking up at me, my mom and grandmother were all the same size also, if not shorter, or so they say. The car is old and dusty and looks like no one has been in it for years on the outside, it is just blacked and crusty, the only car other than the coal car behind the locomotive, and it too is rusted reddish orange. They used to have tripped over this thing and park it on the bridge, and you spent the night up in the stars, and so that is what we did on a big full moon night. In the big bed looking out the one side of all those old windows. The car and train sit here for there was a fire or something on that line, and this becomes the new home of the serving remanences about half a mile in, the train was going over and was near the end on the one said when the wind took it all down, and all the cars but one fall all the many feet to the ground below, yet it never steamed over again. There sits the old Pullman car. It's red and has black, with yellow writing on it, up till now I am not sure what it says. It was a custom car made just for spending the night on top of the linked- mountains. The train is all the same color for what I can make out, dating around the 1800s or so, that what my dad said anyway we and he were up here, oh so long ago. We both walked up to her and me on the left, tacking him on the right hand-woven tight. The grass tall the track worn, and feet sore, from the journey there. Over smaller yet high crossings that have known side rails. Inside you can see it is in touch, and all dark wood, I light one of the old lanterns, I thought down a towel, and we had juice pouches and P-P and J. Romantic- No! It’s all good, he tried. It wasn’t about that anyway. The bed is off to the back and looks like a five-star hotel room to us, there is a living room spot, where ass naked in the big old sofas… or next to it, we were playing house, and loving it. We were young but we feel- we were on the bed all night long. Looking out over… see the tree sway below. it was cold in the car, yet he keeps me warm, I was fogging up the windows, with my breath Moan it out in a sweet- yet sensual way, I was pressed upon it looking out as I was on top, he was looking up at me, yet I was looking out and at his eyes, at definite times. I even kissed the glass to leave something behind, I wonder if it’s still there, and my name is covered in the old wood, next to his.

Real transformations of major tech companies are extremely rare: I think because companies develop a particular capability, and a set of customers, and change is hard. You can’t take the stripes off a tiger. If you’re born a dog, you don’t die a cat.

The last common method of grouping data is a funnel. This is when you measure key steps along a user’s journey towards some task and group them together, in journey order. Typically a lot of people complete the first step and far fewer complete the last; e.g., many people might go to an Amazon product page, a smaller number click Add to Cart, and a smaller number still complete the checkout. “Leakage” is when a customer stops moving forward in the funnel. Nearly any sequential-action group of

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