Sap Customer Quotes

There was the one basic storyline, which everyone knew, with the few custom endings to choose now and again. Basic: humming grandmas and polycentric dancing and drinks made from tree sap and patriarchy.

Like a Small Cafi, That's Love" Like a small cafe on the street of strange.— that's love... its doors open to all. Like a cafe that expands and commas with the w.then if it pours with rain its customers increase, if the weather's fm, they are few and weary... I am here, stranger, sitting in the comer. (What color .e your eyes? What is your name? How shall I call to you as you pass hy, as I sit waiting for you?) A small caa, that's love. I order two glass. of wine and drink to my health and yours. I am carrying two caps and umbrella. It is raining now. It is raining more than ever, and you do not come hA I say to myself at last: Perhaps she who I was waiting for was waiting for me, or was waiting for some other ma, or was waiting for us, and did not find him/me. She would sap Here I am waiting for you. (What color are your eyes? What is your name? What kind of wine do you prefer? How shall I call to you when you pass hyl) A small that's love...

Draw near, woman, and hear what I have to say. Turn your curiosity for once towards useful objects, and consider the advantages which nature gave you and society ravished away. Come and learn how you were born the companion of man and became his slave; how you grew to like the condition and think it natural; and finally how the long habituation of slavery so degraded you that you preferred its sapping but convenient vices to the more difficult virtues of freedom and repute. If the picture I shall paint leaves you in command of yourselves, if you can contemplate it without emotion, then go back to your futile pastimes; ‘there is no remedy; the vices have become the custom.

But it’s on me that this unexpected disaster has fallen and sapped my psūkhē. I am ruined, and having lost the pleasure [kharis] of life I long to die, philai. For the man on whom I was utterly dependant, as I well recognize, has turned out to be the most kakos of men, my own husband. Of all things that have psūkhē and intelligence, we women are the most wretched creatures: first we must buy a husband at too high a price, and then acquire a master of our bodies—an evil thing [kakon] yet more evil [kakon]. But in this lies the most important ordeal [agōn], whether our choice is good or bad [kakon]. For divorce is not a thing of good kleos to women, nor can we refuse our husbands. Next the wife, having reached her new house with its unfamiliar ways and customs [nomoi], must be a seer [mantis]—if she has not learned the lesson in the oikos—to divine what kind of bedmate she will have. If we perform these tasks with thoroughness and tact, and if the husband lives with us, bearing the yoke without violence [biā], our life is a happy one. If not, it’s best to die. The man, when he is vexed with what he finds indoors, goes forth and rids his soul of its disgust, turning to some philos or fellow of like age, while we must of necessity look to his psūkhē alone. They say we live secure in our households [oikoi], while they are off at war—how worthlessly [kakōs] they think! How gladly would I three times over take my stand behind a shield rather than once give birth!

While the indecisive customer hovered over an array of perfumes that Nettle had brought out for her, the American girls browsed among the shelves of perfumes, colognes, pomades, waxes, creams, soaps, and other items intended for beauty care. There were bath oils in stoppered crystal bottles, , and tins of herbal unguents, and tiny boxes of violet pastilles to freshen the breath. Lower shelves held treasure troves of scented candles and inks, sachets filled with clove-saturated smelling salts, potpourri bowls, and jars of pastes and balms. Nettle noticed, however, that while the younger girl, Daisy, viewed the assortment with only mild interest, the older one, Lillian, had stopped before a row of oils and extracts that contained pure scent. Rose, frangipani, jasmine, bergamot, and so forth. Lifting the amber glass bottles, she opened them carefully and inhaled with visible appreciation. Eventually the blond woman made her choice, purchased a flacon of perfume, and left the shop, a small bell ringing cheerfully as the door closed. Lillian, who had turned to glance at the departing woman, murmured thoughtfully, "I wonder why it is that so many light-haired women smell of amber..." "You mean amber perfume?" Daisy asked. "No- their skin itself. Amber, and sometimes honey..." "What on earth do you mean?" the younger girl asked with a bemused laugh. "People don't smell like anything, except when they need to wash." The pair regarded each other with what appeared to be mutual surprise. "Yes, they do," Lillian said. "Everyone has a smell... don't say you've never noticed? The way some people's skin is like bitter almond, or violet, while others..." "Others have a scent like plum, or palm sap, or fresh hay," Nettle commented. Lillian glanced at him with a satisfied smile. "Yes, exactly!" Nettle removed his spectacles and polished them with care, while his mind swarmed with questions. Could it be? Was it possible that this girl could actually detect a person's intrinsic scent? He himself could- but it was a rare gift, and not one that he had ever known a woman to have.

In the future that globalists and feminists have imagined, for most of us there will only be more clerkdom and masturbation. There will only be more apologizing, more submission, more asking for permission to be men. There will only be more examinations, more certifications, mandatory prerequisites, screening processes, background checks, personality tests, and politicized diagnoses. There will only be more medication. There will be more presenting the secretary with a cup of your own warm urine. There will be mandatory morning stretches and video safety presentations and sign-off sheets for your file. There will be more helmets and goggles and harnesses and bright orange vests with reflective tape. There can only be more counseling and sensitivity training. There will be more administrative hoops to jump through to start your own business and keep it running. There will be more mandatory insurance policies. There will definitely be more taxes. There will probably be more Byzantine sexual harassment laws and corporate policies and more ways for women and protected identity groups to accuse you of misconduct. There will be more micro-managed living, pettier regulations, heavier fines, and harsher penalties. There will be more ways to run afoul of the law and more ways for society to maintain its pleasant illusions by sweeping you under the rug. In 2009 there were almost five times more men either on parole or serving prison terms in the United States than were actively serving in all of the armed forces.[64] If you’re a good boy and you follow the rules, if you learn how to speak passively and inoffensively, if you can convince some other poor sleepwalking sap that you are possessed with an almost unhealthy desire to provide outstanding customer service or increase operational efficiency through the improvement of internal processes and effective organizational communication, if you can say stupid shit like that without laughing, if your record checks out and your pee smells right—you can get yourself a J-O-B. Maybe you can be the guy who administers the test or authorizes the insurance policy. Maybe you can be the guy who helps make some soulless global corporation a little more money. Maybe you can get a pat on the head for coming up with the bright idea to put a bunch of other guys out of work and outsource their boring jobs to guys in some other place who are willing to work longer hours for less money. Whatever you do, no matter what people say, no matter how many team-building activities you attend or how many birthday cards you get from someone’s secretary, you will know that you are a completely replaceable unit of labor in the big scheme of things.

Even more interesting, SAP has used the social currency supply to stimulate its developer economy in the same way as the Federal Reserve uses the money supply to stimulate the U.S. economy. When SAP introduced a new customer relationship management (CRM) product, it offered double points on any answer, code, or white paper relating to CRM. During the two-month duration of this “monetary expansion” policy, developers found gaps in the software and devised new features at a vastly higher rate.43 Used as a money supply, the increased flow of social currency caused overall economic output to rise. In effect, SAP employed an expansionary monetary policy to stimulate growth—and it worked.

Our current battle: we have to save the customer from Microsoft, Oracle, and SAP.

common as for Japanese televisions. By 1979, it took American workers three times as long to assemble their sets.”4 I like to refer to this strategy as addition by subtraction.5 fn2 The Japanese companies looked for every point of friction in the manufacturing process and eliminated it. As they subtracted wasted effort, they added customers and revenue. Similarly, when we remove the points of friction that sap our time and energy, we can achieve more with less effort. (This is one reason tidying up can feel so good: we are simultaneously moving forward and lightening the cognitive load our environment places on us.)

He took her hand. He could feel the faint stickiness of sap from the flowers. She smelled of yarrow, pungent, green and sharp. They said nothing more, for it had become their custom to feel rather than speak--to sense the mood and direction of the other, to trust as the creatures of the prairie trusted to their instincts. Wordless, hand in hand, they mourned.

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