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Pampers -History, Brand Value And Brand Strategy
In the recent years, Pampers has become a household name for diapers in almost every country in the world and has conquered the global market with its top-notch quality.P&G scientist, Vic Mills, detested changing the fabric diapers of his infant grandkid back in the year 1956. So, he commissioned the analysts in P&G’s exploratory division in Miami Valley, Ohio to investigate the possible ways to improve a disposable diaper.
By sam khan4 years ago in FYI
All You Need To Know About Lala Lajpat Rai On His Jayanti (157th Birth Anniversary)
Lala Lajpat Rai Jayanti (Birth Anniversary of Lala Lajpat Rai): Highlights The day of 28th January is known and observed as the birth anniversary of Lala Lajpat Rai. Lala Lajpat Rai, one of the most renowned freedom fighters, is known for his struggle in attaining independence for the nation. He also initiated many social reforms and also initiated many foundations in the betterment of the nation. He was a man known for his writings also. He has many literary works under his name. He took his last breath on 17th November 1928 after he faced the atrocities of the British government in his non violent protest against the Simon Commission. The real freedom is still unheard of, which is the independence of the soul to make this human birth a success.
By SA News Channel4 years ago in FYI
Gentlemen
'It is true, gentlemen, that Mr. Burnham's wife and child are now with him; but, partially because of her, his wife's, infirm health, and partially because of a most distressing and unfortunate experience in his past, our kinsman begs that no one will attempt to call at the ranch. He appreciates all the courtesy the gentlemen and ladies at the fort would show, and have shown, but he feels compelled to decline all intercourse. We are beholden, in a measure, to Mr. Burnham, and have to be guided by his wishes. We are young men compared to him, and it was through him that we came to seek our fortune here, but he is virtually the head of both establishments.' Well. There was nothing more to be said, and the boys came away. One thing more transpired. Burnham gave it out that he had lived in Texas before the war, and had fought all the way through in the Confederate service. He thought the officers ought to know this. It was the major himself to whom he told it, and when the major replied that he considered the war over and that that made no difference, Burnham, with a clouded face replied, 'Well, mebbe it don't--to you.' Whereupon the major fired up and told him that if he chose to be an unreconstructed reb, when Union officers and gentlemen were only striving to be civil to him, he might 'go ahead and be d--d,' and came away in high dudgeon." And so matters stood up to the last we had heard from Fort Phoenix, except for one letter which Mrs. Frazer wrote to Mrs. Turner at Sandy, perhaps purely out of feminine mischief, because a year or so previous Baker, as a junior second lieutenant, was doing the devoted to Mrs. Turner, a species of mildly amatory apprenticeship which most of the young officers seemed impelled to serve on first joining. "We are having such a romance here at Phoenix. You have doubtless heard of the beautiful girl at 'Starlight Ranch,' as we call the Burnham place, up the valley. Everybody who called has been rebuffed; but, after catching a few glimpses of her, Mr. Baker became completely infatuated and rode up that way three or four times a week. Of late he has ceased going in the daytime, but it is known that he rides out towards dusk and gets back long after midnight, sometimes not till morning. Of course it takes four hours, nearly, to come from there full-speed, but though Major Tracy will admit nothing, it must be that Mr. Baker has his permission to be away at night. We all believe that it is another case of love laughing at locksmiths and that in some way they contrive to meet. One thing is certain,--Mr. Baker is desperately in love and will permit no trifling with him on the subject." Ordinarily, I suppose, such a letter would have been gall and wormwood to Mrs. Turner, but as young Hunter, a new appointment, was now a devotee, and as it was a piece of romantic news which interested all Camp Sandy, she read the letter to one lady after another, and so it became public property. Old Catnip, as we called the colonel, was disposed to be a little worried on the subject. Baker was a youngster in whom he had some interest as being a distant connection of his wife's, but Mrs. Pelham had not come to Arizona with us, and the good old fellow was living _en garcon_ with the Mess, where, of course, the matter was discussed in all its bearings. All these things recurred to me as I pottered around through the herds examining side-lines, etc., and looking up the guards. Ordinarily our scouting parties were so small that we had no such thing as an officer-ofthe-day,--nor had we now when Gleason could have been excused for ordering one, but he evidently desired to do nothing that might annoy his officers. He _might_ want them to stand by him when it came to reporting the route and result of the scout. All the same, he expected that the troop officers would give personal supervision to their command, and especially to look after their "herds," and it was this duty that took me away from the group chatting about the bivouac fire preparatory to "turning in" for the night. When I got back, a tall, gray-haired trooper was "standing attention" in front of the commanding officer, and had evidently just made some report, for Mr. Gleason nodded his head appreciatively and then said, kindly,-- "You did perfectly right, corporal. Instruct your men to keep a lookout for it, and if seen again to-night to call me at once. I'll bring my field-glass and we'll see what it is." The trooper raised his left hand to the "carried" carbine in salute and turned away. When he was out of earshot, Gleason spoke to the silent group,-- "Now, there's a case in point. If I had command of a troop and could get old Potts into it I could make something of him, and I know it." Gleason had consummate faith in his "system" with the rank and file, and no respect for that of any of the captains. Nobody said anything. Blake hated him and puffed unconcernedly at his pipe, with a display of absolute indifference to his superior's views that the latter did not fail to note. The others knew what a trial "old Potts" had been to his troop commander, and did not believe that Gleason could "reform" him at will. The silence was embarrassing, so I inquired,-- "What had he to report?" "Oh, nothing of any consequence. He and one of the sentries saw what they took to be an Indian signal-fire up Tonto Creek. It soon smouldered away,--but I always make it a point to show respect to these old soldiers." "You show d--d little respect for their reports all the same," said Blake, suddenly shooting up on a pair of legs that looked like stilts. "An Indian signal-fire is a matter of a heap of consequence in my opinion;" and he wrathfully stalked away. For some reason Gleason saw fit to take no notice of this piece of insubordination. Placidly he resumed his chat,--
By ranjit4 years ago in FYI
Power Full Man
"Now, you gentlemen seem skeptical about Potts. Do any of you know his history?" "Well, I know he's about the oldest soldier in the regiment; that he served in the First Dragoons when they were in Arizona twenty years ago, and that he gets drunk as a boiled owl every pay-day," was an immediate answer. "Very good as far as it goes," replied Gleason, with a superior smile; "but I'll just tell you a chapter in his life he never speaks of and I never dreamed of until the last time I was in San Francisco. There I met old General Starr at the 'Occidental,' and almost the first thing he did was to inquire for Potts, and then he told me about him. He was one of the finest sergeants in Starr's troop in '53,--a dashing, handsome fellow,--and while in at Fort Leavenworth he had fallen in love with, won, and married as pretty a young girl as ever came into the regiment. She came out to New Mexico with the detachment with which he served, and was the belle of all the '_bailes_' given either by the 'greasers' or the enlisted men. He was proud of her as he could be, and old Starr swore that the few ladies of the regiment who were with them at old Fort Fillmore or Stanton were really jealous of her. Even some of the young officers got to saying sweet things to her, and Potts came to the captain about it, and he had it stopped; but the girl's head was turned. There was a handsome young fellow in the sutler's store who kept making her presents on the sly, and when at last Potts found it out he nearly hammered the life out of him. Then came that campaign against the Jicarilla Apaches, and Potts had to go with his troop and leave her at the cantonment, where, to be sure, there were ladies and plenty of people to look after her; and in the fight at Cieneguilla poor Potts was badly wounded, and it was some months before they got back; and meantime the sutler fellow had got in his work, and when the command finally came in with its wounded they had skipped, no one knew where. If Potts hadn't been taken down with brain fever on top of his wound he would have followed their trail, desertion or no desertion, but he was a broken man when he got out of hospital. The last thing old Starr said to me was, 'Now, Gleason, I want you to be kind to my old sergeant; he served all through the war, and I've never forgiven them in the First for going back on him and refusing to re-enlist him; but the captains, one and all, said it was no use; he had sunk lower and lower; was perfectly unreliable; spent nine-tenths of his time in the guard-house and all his money in whiskey; and one after another they refused to take him.'" "How'd we happen to get him, then?" queried one of our party. "He showed up at San Francisco, neat as a new pin; exhibited several fine discharges, but said nothing of the last two, and was taken into the regiment as we were going through. Of course, its pretty much as they said in the First when we're in garrison, but, once out scouting, days away from a drop of 'tanglefoot,' and he does first rate. That's how he got his corporal's chevrons." "He'll lose 'em again before we're back at Sandy forty-eight hours," growled Blake, strolling up to the party again. But he did not. Prophecies failed this time, and old Potts wore those chevrons to the last. He was a good prophet and a keen judge of human nature as exemplified in Gleason, who said that "the old man" was planning for a visit to the new ranches above Fort Phoenix. A day or two farther we plodded along down the range, our Indian scouts looking reproachfully--even sullenly--at the commander at every halt, and then came the order to turn back. Two marches more, and the little command went into bivouac close under the eaves of Fort Phoenix and we were exchanging jovial greetings with our brother officers at the post. Turning over the command to Lieutenant Blake, Mr. Gleason went up into the garrison with his own particular packmule; billeted himself on the infantry commanding officer--the major-- and in a short time appeared freshly-shaved and in the neatest possible undress uniform, ready to call upon the few ladies at the post, and of course to make frequent reference to "my battalion," or "my command," down beyond the dusty, dismal corrals. The rest of us, having come out for business, had no uniforms, nothing but the rough field, scouting rig we wore on such duty, and every man's chin was bristling with a two-weeks'- old beard. "I'm going to report Gleason for this thing," swore Blake; "you see if I don't, the moment we get back." The rest of us were "hopping mad," too, but held our tongues so long as we were around Phoenix. We did not want them there to believe there was dissension and almost mutiny impending. Some of us got permission from Blake to go up to the post with its hospitable officers, and I was one who strolled up to "the store" after dark. There we found the major, and Captain Frazer, and Captain Jennings, and most of the youngsters, but Baker was absent. Of course the talk soon drifted to and settled on "Starlight Ranch," and by tattoo most of the garrison crowd were talking like so many Prussians, all at top-voice and all at once. Every man seemed to have some theory of his own with regard to the peculiar conduct of Mr. Burnham, but no one dissented from the quiet remark of Captain Frazer: "As for Baker's relations with the daughter, he is simply desperately in love and means to marry her. He tells my wife that she is educated and far more refined than her surroundings would indicate, but that he is refused audience by both Burnham and his wife, and it is only at extreme risk that he is able to meet his lady-love at all. Some nights she is entirely prevented from slipping out to see him." Presently in came Gleason, beaming and triumphant from his round of calls among the fair sex, and ready now for the game he loved above all things on earth,--poker. For reasons which need not be elaborated here no officer in our command would play with him, and an ugly rumor was going the rounds at Sandy, just before we came away, that, in a game at Olsen's ranch on the Aqua Fria about three weeks before, he had had his face slapped by Lieutenant Ray of our own regiment. But Ray had gone to his lonely post at Camp Cameron, and there was no one by whom we could verify it except some ranchmen, who declared that Gleason had cheated at cards, and Ray "had been a little too full," as they put it, to detect the fraud until it seemed to flash upon him all of a sudden. A game began, however, with three local officers as participants, so presently Carroll and I withdrew and went back to bivouac. "Have you seen anything of Corporal Potts?" was the first question asked by Mr. Blake. "Not a thing. Why? Is he missing?" "Been missing for an hour. He was talking with some of these garrison soldiers here just after the men had come in from the herd, and what I'm afraid of is that he'll go up into the post and get bilin' full there. I've sent other non-commissioned officers after him, but they cannot find him. He hasn't even looked in at the store, so the bar-tender swears." "The sly old rascal!" said Carroll. "He knows perfectly well how to get all the liquor he wants without exposing himself in the least. No doubt if the bar-tender were asked if he had not filled some flasks this evening he would say yes, and Potts is probably stretched out comfortably in the forage-loft of one of the stables, with a canteen of water and his flask of bug-juice, prepared to make a night of it."
By ranjit4 years ago in FYI
Wireless
"It's a funny thing, this Marconi business, isn't it?" said Mr. Shaynor, coughing heavily. "Nothing seems to make any difference, by what they tell me--storms, hills, or anything; but if that's true we shall know before morning." "Of course it's true," I answered, stepping behind the counter. "Where's old Mr. Cashell?" "He's had to go to bed on account of his influenza. He said you'd very likely drop in." "Where's his nephew?" "Inside, getting the things ready. He told me that the last time they experimented they put the pole on the roof of one of the big hotels here, and the batteries electrified all the water-supply, and"--he giggled--"the ladies got shocks when they took their baths." "I never heard of that." "The hotel wouldn't exactly advertise it, would it? Just now, by what Mr. Cashell tells me, they're trying to signal from here to Poole, and they're using stronger batteries than ever. But, you see, he being the guvnor's nephew and all that (and it will be in the papers too), it doesn't matter how they electrify things in this house. Are you going to watch?" "Very much. I've never seen this game. Aren't you going to bed?" "We don't close till ten on Saturdays. There's a good deal of influenza in town, too, and there'll be a dozen prescriptions coming in before morning. I generally sleep in the chair here. It's warmer than jumping out of bed every time. Bitter cold, isn't it?" "Freezing hard. I'm sorry your cough's worse." "Thank you. I don't mind cold so much. It's this wind that fair cuts me to pieces." He coughed again hard and hackingly, as an old lady came in for ammoniated quinine. "We've just run out of it in bottles, madam," said Mr. Shaynor, returning to the professional tone, "but if you will wait two minutes, I'll make it up for you, madam." I had used the shop for some time, and my acquaintance with the proprietor had ripened into friendship. It was Mr. Cashell who revealed to me the purpose and power of Apothecaries' Hall what time a fellowchemist had made an error in a prescription of mine, had lied to cover his sloth, and when error and lie were brought home to him had written vain letters. "A disgrace to our profession," said the thin, mild-eyed man, hotly, after studying the evidence. "You couldn't do a better service to the profession than report him to Apothecaries' Hall." I did so, not knowing what djinns I should evoke; and the result was such an apology as one might make who had spent a night on the rack. I conceived great respect for Apothecaries' Hall, and esteem for Mr. Cashell, a zealous craftsman who magnified his calling. Until Mr. Shaynor came down from the North his assistants had by no means agreed with Mr. Cashell. "They forget," said he, "that, first and foremost, the compounder is a medicine-man. On him depends the physician's reputation. He holds it literally in the hollow of his hand, Sir." Mr. Shaynor's manners had not, perhaps, the polish of the grocery and Italian warehouse next door, but he knew and loved his dispensary work in every detail. For relaxation he seemed to go no farther afield than the romance of drugs--their discovery, preparation packing, and export--but it led him to the ends of the earth, and on this subject, and the Pharmaceutical Formulary, and Nicholas Culpepper, most confident of physicians, we met. Little by little I grew to know something of his beginnings and his hopes - -of his mother, who had been a school-teacher in one of the northern counties, and of his red-headed father, a small job-master at Kirby Moors, who died when he was a child; of the examinations he had passed and of their exceeding and increasing difficulty; of his dreams of a shop in London; of his hate for the price-cutting Co-operative stores; and, most interesting, of his mental attitude towards customers. "There's a way you get into," he told me, "of serving them carefully, and I hope, politely, without stopping your own thinking. I've been reading Christie's _New Commercial Plants_ all this autumn, and that needs keeping your mind on it, I can tell you. So long as it isn't a prescription, of course, I can carry as much as half a page of Christie in my head, and at the same time I could sell out all that window twice over, and not a penny wrong at the end. As to prescriptions, I think I could make up the general run of 'em in my sleep, almost." For reasons of my own, I was deeply interested in Marconi experiments at their outset in England; and it was of a piece with Mr. Cashell's unvarying thoughtfulness that, when his nephew the electrician appropriated the house for a long-range installation, he should, as I have said, invite me to see the result. The old lady went away with her medicine, and Mr. Shaynor and I stamped on the tiled floor behind the counter to keep ourselves warm. The shop, by the light of the many electrics, looked like a Paris-diamond mine, for Mr. Cashell believed in all the ritual of his craft. Three superb glass jars-- red, green, and blue--of the sort that led Rosamund to parting with her shoes--blazed in the broad plate-glass windows, and there was a confused smell of orris, Kodak films, vulcanite, tooth-powder, sachets, and almond- cream in the air. Mr. Shaynor fed the dispensary stove, and we sucked cayenne-pepper jujubes and menthol lozenges. The brutal east wind had cleared the streets, and the few passers-by were muffled to their puckered eyes. In the Italian warehouse next door some gay feathered birds and game, hung upon hooks, sagged to the wind across the left edge of our window-frame.
By Mintoo kumar Yadav4 years ago in FYI
Quick History Of World War Two European Theater
The War’s beginning? Some would say that warfare 2 began with Germany’s Invasion of European country on the first Sept 1939 and therefore the demand of england that while not a German withdrawal a State of War would exist. unnecessary to mention there was no German withdrawal and WWII began, Britain, France, Australia and New Seeland declaring war on the third of Sept 1939
By MICHEAL4 years ago in FYI
How Did Socrates the Founder of Western Philosophy Die
Socrates was born in Athens, Greece, around 469 B.C. Previous thinkers had examined the natural world, but Socrates worked with the human experience and focused on individual morality. He questioned what made a good life through examining social and political questions. He is considered the founder of Western philosophy.
By Sam H Arnold4 years ago in FYI
The Science of Profanity. Top Story - February 2022.
I have never needed a swear jar nor had my mouth washed out with soap. For most of my life, if a swear word slipped out, it was an accident, and I would immediately cover my mouth in embarrassment. For some reason, profanity doesn’t sound right coming from me. It’s like when a dog talks or a three-year-old says pontificate — people stop and stare.
By Jill (Conquering Cognitions)4 years ago in FYI
History of Horses and Horse Riding
Thanks to the evolution of modern technology, our messages can travel close to the speed of light, i.e nearly 186,000 miles per second. In consideration of how messages were delivered in times past, the carrier of such a message would have to travel on foot, and even if he was a good walker/runner, he could only cover a short distance in a long time. The fastest marathoners (whose event is named for the legend of the messenger who ran from Marathon to Athens in 490 BC to announce a Greek military victory over the Persians) cover 26 miles (or 42 kilometers) in just over two hours. Despite such effort, even the fastest human runner would be totally exhausted.The domestication of the horse signaled a major innovaƭon in transport and communication. It ushered in a new era where humans could travel farther than they used to and carry much more weight with them. People who could ride on horses also carried messages, increasing collective learning as information changed hands. There was a significant increase in the rate at which humans could travel in relation to that of a horse’s walk, trot, or gallop, at a range of about 6 kilometers per hour to about 89 kilometers per hour (the record gallop speed over short distances).
By asli han4 years ago in FYI
History of Mozart
Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart was born on January 27, 1756, but he was baptized under the name Johannes Chrysostomus Wolfgangus Theophilus Mozart.
By Bill Petro4 years ago in FYI
History of the Liberation of Auschwitz: January 27, 1945
January 27, 1945, was the liberation of the Auschwitz Concentration Camp, one of the most notorious camps of World War II, by the Soviet Red Army. This date is now known by the United Nations and the European Union as International Holocaust Remembrance Day.
By Bill Petro4 years ago in FYI
Lost
The Missoni fashion label is one of the most iconic in the world. Starting as a small knitwear company in 1953 by Olympic hurdler Ottavio Missoni and his wife Rosita, the brand has exploded into one of the most influential fashion houses in the industry. Their use of knitting machines and combining the lightweight fabrics with Ottavio’s activewear designs led to a renaissance of Italian sportswear on a scale that challenged the American industry. Not to mention the fact that we modernly consider Milan to be the capital of Italian fashion, all due to Missoni moving their manufacturing from Gallarte to Milan. With the mod movement of the 1960’s, the brightly colored stripes and iconic zigzag patterns of the Missoni designs exploded and became a coveted look around the world. Over the decades the brand grew on an international scale, being featured in fashion magazines around the world. Ottavio and Rosita had three children, Vittorio, Angela and Luca. When Ottavio and Rosita made the decision to step down from the throne of the Missoni empire, it was passed down to their children. Vittorio took the role of Marketing Director and eventually CEO, while Angela and Luca took over the Creative and Technical Direction of the brand. The designs remained popular and a household name through the decades, but the expansion of the brand throughout the 90’s and early 2000’s is all thanks to Vittorio’s marketing finesse. He expanded the brand out of clothing and into hotel chains and housewares. He also set up the partnership with Target in 2008, allowing the brand to become accessible to lower income fashionistas at an affordable price. The Target launch was so successful that the collection sold out in minutes and broke down the Target website for multiple hours.
By Chelsea Adler4 years ago in FYI