What is marketing? It is the art/ science of making consumers buy what they do not need. It is profound claptrap; the educated bullshit; the intensive labeling of simplistic theories with verbose technical jargon. This romance of mixing art and science with the intention of influencing consumption behaviour seduced me many years ago, and teaching this discipline has remained my passion.
An ex-colleague of mine completed his doctoral in marketing and as a side business, and almost for interest sake, he and his wife started a business selling tea at the retail front. I visited their shop today at Millennium Walk and I felt like I took a step into marketing wonderland; where sound marketing theories manifest themselves into a sound business design. They have a business that does not sell tea. Instead, they sell an experience which begins from the moment you step into the shop front. Their outlet appears to be more of an artistic impression of a contemporary tea museum rather than a tea retailer. Colour schemes play around with classic matt black to daring yellows. The background plays a constant soothing blend of jazz and service stretches beyond a single transaction.
It is not everyday that someone can say that they are able to mix business with pleasure, or in this case, mix business with passion. Is it even possible to sink oneself into business before developing passion? Sometimes when the grass appears too green on the other side, it overwhelms the prospects at hand.
Finding contentment really is a challenge on its own.
Saturday, January 28, 2006
Thursday, January 26, 2006
Nothingness
I just want to put in an entry and yet I have absolutely nothing to say. Louis is singing ‘what a wonderful world’, and in this rather optimistic mood, I don’t think I can argue very much against good’o Louis.
I have set the stage; dim lighting that typically inspires a surge of sentiments; playing in the background a freshly procured jazz compilation; and a single malt on the rocks resting beside me like a faithful friend…. …. yet, I have nothing to say.
Perhaps it is a moment I would like to capture, like the frantic snapping of a digital camera at the crushing waves, wishing that maybe after twenty shots, you may have a chance of seizing the sensation of boundlessness for future reference. I am trying to capture a moment of nothingness, a moment of tranquility and placidness. The beauty itself is like stainless linen; undisturbed and quiet.
Louis has taken a bow. Cassandra Wilson is singing Tupelo Honey. I’ve never heard this track before, but I’m glad that I’m listening to it now.
How often can you appreciate the loveliness of a whisper?
I have set the stage; dim lighting that typically inspires a surge of sentiments; playing in the background a freshly procured jazz compilation; and a single malt on the rocks resting beside me like a faithful friend…. …. yet, I have nothing to say.
Perhaps it is a moment I would like to capture, like the frantic snapping of a digital camera at the crushing waves, wishing that maybe after twenty shots, you may have a chance of seizing the sensation of boundlessness for future reference. I am trying to capture a moment of nothingness, a moment of tranquility and placidness. The beauty itself is like stainless linen; undisturbed and quiet.
Louis has taken a bow. Cassandra Wilson is singing Tupelo Honey. I’ve never heard this track before, but I’m glad that I’m listening to it now.
How often can you appreciate the loveliness of a whisper?
Tuesday, January 24, 2006
Nostalgia
How much is your childhood worth? What would you give to take a stroll down memory lane and relive the days of yesteryears where happiness is found in its purest form, tainted only by each grain of sand that seeps through the hour glass?
I had the most surreal and nostalgic experience playing reminiscence with two long lost friends over the Internet. It was quite amazing, how friends that I had lost touch with for 15yrs could just get together to unravel lost memories tucked behind some dusty corners of our minds. It is like finding a bag of marbles which you hid under a broken floor board a decade ago. Each glass bead will remind you of an instance and an emotion which you experienced during your otherwise forgotten childhood. This feeling is like a soothing taste of toffee, heartfelt and warm. It is a moment where you look back and whisper to yourself, ‘I remember’….. …
I remember the laughter; wholesome and innocent. I remember the friendships; untainted and honest. I remember the tears; naïve and earnest.
I really wish for an opportunity to sit down and play catch up with these long lost friends, because they are the only bridge to some very potent memories, memories that deserve to be relived just so that I may treasure them even more dearly.
I had the most surreal and nostalgic experience playing reminiscence with two long lost friends over the Internet. It was quite amazing, how friends that I had lost touch with for 15yrs could just get together to unravel lost memories tucked behind some dusty corners of our minds. It is like finding a bag of marbles which you hid under a broken floor board a decade ago. Each glass bead will remind you of an instance and an emotion which you experienced during your otherwise forgotten childhood. This feeling is like a soothing taste of toffee, heartfelt and warm. It is a moment where you look back and whisper to yourself, ‘I remember’….. …
I remember the laughter; wholesome and innocent. I remember the friendships; untainted and honest. I remember the tears; naïve and earnest.
I really wish for an opportunity to sit down and play catch up with these long lost friends, because they are the only bridge to some very potent memories, memories that deserve to be relived just so that I may treasure them even more dearly.
Saturday, January 21, 2006
Over Indian Pizza
Last entry was on the 17th December 2005. Woohoo!! I must have done well, that is living a life; one that is worthwhile enough to render blog entries to be the least of my priorities along with worrying when in the world I’m going to complete my education.
It is 1:30am and while I should be in bed catching some undeserved sleep, I figured I will sit my ass down and write just one more entry. That is, despite making promises that I will not blog till I’m back in Melbourne and when I’m stuck in the office.
It is such a revelation, to discover that despite having no evidence of human traffic, I do have friends who actually read my blog! It was an eventful evening spent with a special bunch of friends over some Indian pizza. Special because they are the gang I got to know through the internet during the good’O days where a stranger with a receding hair-line did not necessarily make him a pedophile. This gang is a bunch of characters better known by their nick-names where more important details such as birthdates and surnames are often taken for granted. We would probably meet up once every other time when I visit home and strangely gatherings would include dinner arrangements of roti-prata, this time, without exception but with an Italian twist.
Anyway, the point of it all is that in the spirit of discovering you had a long lost brother, it is a revelation that there are people I know out there that actually bother to read my entries. With that, this entry is for you. You know who you are.
Cheers
It is 1:30am and while I should be in bed catching some undeserved sleep, I figured I will sit my ass down and write just one more entry. That is, despite making promises that I will not blog till I’m back in Melbourne and when I’m stuck in the office.
It is such a revelation, to discover that despite having no evidence of human traffic, I do have friends who actually read my blog! It was an eventful evening spent with a special bunch of friends over some Indian pizza. Special because they are the gang I got to know through the internet during the good’O days where a stranger with a receding hair-line did not necessarily make him a pedophile. This gang is a bunch of characters better known by their nick-names where more important details such as birthdates and surnames are often taken for granted. We would probably meet up once every other time when I visit home and strangely gatherings would include dinner arrangements of roti-prata, this time, without exception but with an Italian twist.
Anyway, the point of it all is that in the spirit of discovering you had a long lost brother, it is a revelation that there are people I know out there that actually bother to read my entries. With that, this entry is for you. You know who you are.
Cheers
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