Vacation Is Over Back To Reality Quotes

Though it’s unclear whether Jeff knew about Charlie’s idea before sending out his directive to launch a free shipping program in October, it doesn’t really matter—the story is noteworthy for a couple of reasons. First, customer-focused ideas come from all areas within Amazon. Many companies have the “business people” tell the “technical people” what to build. There’s little discussion back and forth, and the teams stay in their own lanes. Amazon is not like this at all. It’s everyone’s job to obsess over customers and think of inventive ways to delight them. A second noteworthy aspect of the story is that when Charlie returned from vacation and found out we had decided to build something akin to his idea, he joined the team charged with making Prime a reality, and played a vital role on it.

It was another beautiful crisp, clear day, in what has always been considered picturesque Überlingen. The village was internationally known for its traditional beauty and was a popular vacation destination long before the war. As usual, there was just a hint of a breeze off the brilliantly blue lake and I could understand why so many Germans would come here for their urlaub or vacation. Having a little money left over from the last check sent by Mina, I found a nice room for the three of us, overlooking the lake at a classy resort hotel. For the next two days we lived quite comfortably in our new surroundings. In fact we even enjoyed a real hot bath, something that I had almost forgotten. As I soaked in the warm, sudsy water I could hear my children laughing and giggling in the next room, and longed for a time when the world would be at peace again. During the day we walked along the shore of the beautiful Bodensee, but in the back of my mind, I knew that this was nothing more than a horrible illusion and couldn’t last; besides I had to find work. In reality, the children and I would have to settle in somewhere so that we could find some sort of stability. It was also important that they enroll in a school again. That “somewhere” turned out to be a room in a house owned by two old ladies who took in boarders. The old house faced the railroad station and was quaint in the old world style. It fit right into the picture postcard appearance of romantic Überlingen. Erika, the younger of the two ladies, was very kind and helpful to me. There were also two other tenants, Mr. and Mrs. Koestoll. He was German and she seemed to be what could be considered a typical French housewife, who devoted her life to her German husband. Herr Koestoll, was old and feeble and they sustained themselves on a very small pension. In fact it was so bad that he couldn’t even afford shoes. However their happiness didn’t seem to depend on money. I grew very fond of them for the short time that we knew each other.

I once worked with an executive team that needed help with their prioritization. They were struggling to identify the top five projects they wanted their IT department to complete over the next fiscal year, and one of the managers was having a particularly hard time with it. She insisted on naming eighteen “top priority” projects. I insisted that she choose five. She took her list back to her team, and two weeks later they returned with a list she had managed to shorten—by one single project! (I always wondered what it was about that one lone project that didn’t make the cut.) By refusing to make trade-offs, she ended up spreading five projects’ worth of time and effort across seventeen projects. Unsurprisingly, she did not get the results she wanted. Her logic had been: We can do it all. Obviously not. It is easy to see why it’s so tempting to deny the reality of trade-offs. After all, by definition, a trade-off involves two things we want. Do you want more pay or more vacation time? Do you want to finish this next e-mail or be on time to your meeting? Do you want it done faster or better?

SONG: Monsieur Gallimard—the wait is over. Song drops his briefs. He is naked. Sound cue out. Slowly, we and Song come to the realization that what we had thought to be Gallimard’s sobbing is actually his laughter. GALLIMARD: Oh god! He bursts into laughter again. SONG: Rene? I fail to see what’s so funny! GALLIMARD: You “fail to see”—! I mean, you never did have much of a sense of humor, did you? I just think it’s terribly funny that I’ve wasted so much time on just a man! SONG: “Just a man”? GALLIMARD: Isn’t that what you’ve been trying to convince me of? SONG: Yes, but what I mean— GALLIMARD: And now I finally believe you, and you tell me it’s not true? I think you must have some kind of identity problem. SONG: Will you listen to me? GALLIMARD: Why?! I’ve been listening to you for years. Don’t I deserve a vacation? SONG: Why should it matter what I am? GALLIMARD: Well, you must be something. Unless you’re nothing. SONG: How can you say—? Song picks up Butterfly’s robes, starts to dance around. No music. GALLIMARD: Yes, that’s very nice. I have to admit. Song holds out his arm to Gallimard. SONG: It’s the same skin you’ve worshiped for years. Touch it. GALLIMARD: Yes, it does feel the same. SONG: Now—close your eyes. Song covers Gallimard’s eyes with one hand. With the other, Song draws Gallimard’s hand up to his face. GALLIMARD: This skin, I remember. The curve of her face, the softness of her cheek, her hair against the back of my hand . . . SONG: I’m your Butterfly. Under the robes, beneath everything, it was always me. Now open your eyes and admit it—you adore me. He removes his hand from Gallimard’s eyes. GALLIMARD: You, who knew every inch of my desires—how could you, of all people, have made such a mistake? SONG: What? GALLIMARD: You showed me your true self. When all I loved was the lie. A perfect lie, which you let fall to the ground—and now it’s old and soiled. SONG: So—you never really loved me. Only when I was playing a part. GALLIMARD: I’m a man who loved a woman created by a man. Everything else—simply falls short. Pause. SONG: What am I supposed to do now? You’ve left me in no-man’s-land. GALLIMARD: I have a date . . . with my Butterfly. SONG: So come back to my— GALLIMARD: Get away from me! Tonight, I’ve finally learned to tell fantasy from reality. And, knowing the difference, I choose fantasy. SONG: I’m your fantasy! GALLIMARD: You?