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**Cuando la Calidad se Convierte **
en el Espejo de una Sociedad
La calidad es un concepto casi mágico, pero terriblemente concreto al mismo tiempo. Es, en esencia, la promesa que un servicio o producto hace al consumidor, y la satisfacción que ese consumidor percibe cuando esa promesa se cumple. En mi experiencia personal, habiendo nacido y crecido en Venezuela y viviendo hace 16 años en Canadá, he podido percibir las múltiples caras y matices que la calidad adopta, y cómo esas diferencias están profundamente ligadas al contexto cultural, social y económico donde se experimenta.
De mi propiedad.
Cuando observo las opiniones de quienes han relatado sus experiencias en Venezuela, noto que la calidad parece ser algo escurridizo, un ideal que se busca, pero que a menudo se siente frustrante. El pan que no pesa lo suficiente para el precio que se paga, el mesero que no sonríe o que se muestra indiferente, el servicio que mejora solo cuando hay algún detalle superficial como música o aroma agradable, son relatos que no solo hablan de servicios insatisfactorios, sino también de una brecha entre la expectativa y la realidad vivida. No es que quienes se quejan no valoren la calidad, todo lo contrario: la anhelan, la necesitan, como cualquier consumidor en el mundo. Pero posiblemente la diferencia radica en que en esas sociedades la experiencia de la calidad no es rutinaria, no es la norma, y por ello se juzga con ese doble filtro de la nostalgia y la exigencia frustrada.
Por otro lado, vivir en Canadá me ha permitido ver una cultura donde la calidad está tan integrada en la rutina diaria que sencillamente se da por sentada. No solo me refiero a la calidad tangible de los productos, que muchas veces supera las expectativas mínimas, sino a ese intangible que tiene que ver con la calidad humana, con el respeto mutuo, con la confianza que se establece entre prestador y usuario. Un simple acto como elegir productos en un automercado revela una ética que trasciende el mero intercambio comercial: un producto con fecha de caducidad próxima se vende más barato, y esto es conocido y aceptado por todos. No hay engaños, no hay suspicacias, simplemente un pacto de transparencia y respeto mutuo que configura una cultura de calidad.
Es interesante pensar en esa relación costo-beneficio cuando se habla de calidad. En Canadá, los impuestos son elevados y la sensación general es que valen cada centavo porque se traducen en beneficios palpables: servicios de salud que funcionan, educación accesible y de alta calidad, seguridad en las calles y en los espacios públicos. El ciudadano está consciente de que detrás de la calidad hay un costo, y que para mantener esos niveles es necesaria una inversión constante, no solo económica, sino también social y moral. Reflexionando en palabras de Ralph Waldo Emerson: “La riqueza consiste mucho más en el disfrute que en la posesión”. En este caso, la calidad se disfruta porque se invierte en ella.
De mi propiedad.
Esta visión conlleva un conjunto de preguntas que invitan a la reflexión: ¿Estamos dispuestos a pagar el precio real de la calidad? ¿Qué significa para nosotros la calidad cuando la vida diaria nos presenta tantos retos que van más allá de un servicio puntual? ¿Cómo se construye una cultura de calidad en contextos donde la escasez, la incertidumbre y las dificultades estructurales son parte del día a día? Quizás aquí reside una diferencia fundamental entre países como Venezuela y Canadá: no solo en la disposición de recursos, sino en la confianza que cada sociedad deposita en sus instituciones y en sus conciudadanos.
Ni la calidad ni su experiencia son universales ni absolutas. Son espejos que reflejan la historia, las aspiraciones, las posibilidades y los límites de un contexto. No es justo ni útil comparar desde el reproche al que vive en situaciones más precarias, sino desde la comprensión de que la calidad es un ideal que se construye, se cuida y se mantiene con paciencia, con conciencia y con compromiso colectivo. En ello también hay una enseñanza profunda: la calidad no es un favor que nos hacen, sino una responsabilidad compartida que se traduce en respeto, en ética y en derechos mutuos.
¿Puede alguien acostumbrado a la abundancia y a la certeza entender realmente qué representa la calidad para quien día a día enfrenta la incertidumbre sobre algo tan básico como conseguir alimento, salud o un servicio público eficiente? Quien ha vivido en ambos mundos puede afirmar que las experiencias son profundamente distintas, y que no cabe un juicio simplista. La calidad no solo es un producto, una atención o un bienestar físico: es también la dignidad con la que se vive, la seguridad que se siente, la confianza que se otorga y se recibe. Como dijo el escritor y filósofo Albert Camus: “La verdadera generosidad para con el futuro consiste en entregarlo todo al presente”.
De mi propiedad.
Y entonces, ¿cómo avanzamos hacia una cultura donde la calidad no sea un privilegio esporádico, sino un derecho habitual? Quizá la respuesta pulse en la sincronización de todos los engranajes que constituyen la sociedad: las normas, las infraestructuras, la educación, el compromiso individual y colectivo. No existe un atajo mágico ni una fórmula sencilla. Pero sí existe la certeza de que cuando la calidad se instala, cambia la percepción de la vida misma, los pequeños detalles se valoran como gestos de respeto y la convivencia gana en armonía.
Al pensar en la calidad, no dejo de preguntarme cuánta de ella depende de nuestra mirada, de nuestra disposición para reconocerla o para exigirla sin caer en el cinismo o la resignación. ¿Será la calidad, entonces, también un acto de esperanza? Una promesa que nos hacemos a nosotros mismos y a quienes nos rodean, para creer que un mundo mejor es posible no solo en palabras, sino en acciones cotidianas. Quizá aquí radica su valor más profundo: no tanto en la perfección sino en el camino hacia ella, en la voluntad de que la experiencia del otro, sea cual sea su contexto, merezca ser respetada y honrada.
La calidad es un concepto casi mágico, pero terriblemente concreto al mismo tiempo. Es, en esencia, la promesa que un servicio o producto hace al consumidor, y la satisfacción que ese consumidor percibe cuando esa promesa se cumple. En mi experiencia personal, habiendo nacido y crecido en Venezuela y viviendo hace 16 años en Canadá, he podido percibir las múltiples caras y matices que la calidad adopta, y cómo esas diferencias están profundamente ligadas al contexto cultural, social y económico donde se experimenta.
De mi propiedad.
Cuando observo las opiniones de quienes han relatado sus experiencias en Venezuela, noto que la calidad parece ser algo escurridizo, un ideal que se busca, pero que a menudo se siente frustrante. El pan que no pesa lo suficiente para el precio que se paga, el mesero que no sonríe o que se muestra indiferente, el servicio que mejora solo cuando hay algún detalle superficial como música o aroma agradable, son relatos que no solo hablan de servicios insatisfactorios, sino también de una brecha entre la expectativa y la realidad vivida. No es que quienes se quejan no valoren la calidad, todo lo contrario: la anhelan, la necesitan, como cualquier consumidor en el mundo. Pero posiblemente la diferencia radica en que en esas sociedades la experiencia de la calidad no es rutinaria, no es la norma, y por ello se juzga con ese doble filtro de la nostalgia y la exigencia frustrada.
Por otro lado, vivir en Canadá me ha permitido ver una cultura donde la calidad está tan integrada en la rutina diaria que sencillamente se da por sentada. No solo me refiero a la calidad tangible de los productos, que muchas veces supera las expectativas mínimas, sino a ese intangible que tiene que ver con la calidad humana, con el respeto mutuo, con la confianza que se establece entre prestador y usuario. Un simple acto como elegir productos en un automercado revela una ética que trasciende el mero intercambio comercial: un producto con fecha de caducidad próxima se vende más barato, y esto es conocido y aceptado por todos. No hay engaños, no hay suspicacias, simplemente un pacto de transparencia y respeto mutuo que configura una cultura de calidad.
Es interesante pensar en esa relación costo-beneficio cuando se habla de calidad. En Canadá, los impuestos son elevados y la sensación general es que valen cada centavo porque se traducen en beneficios palpables: servicios de salud que funcionan, educación accesible y de alta calidad, seguridad en las calles y en los espacios públicos. El ciudadano está consciente de que detrás de la calidad hay un costo, y que para mantener esos niveles es necesaria una inversión constante, no solo económica, sino también social y moral. Reflexionando en palabras de Ralph Waldo Emerson: “La riqueza consiste mucho más en el disfrute que en la posesión”. En este caso, la calidad se disfruta porque se invierte en ella.
De mi propiedad.
Esta visión conlleva un conjunto de preguntas que invitan a la reflexión: ¿Estamos dispuestos a pagar el precio real de la calidad? ¿Qué significa para nosotros la calidad cuando la vida diaria nos presenta tantos retos que van más allá de un servicio puntual? ¿Cómo se construye una cultura de calidad en contextos donde la escasez, la incertidumbre y las dificultades estructurales son parte del día a día? Quizás aquí reside una diferencia fundamental entre países como Venezuela y Canadá: no solo en la disposición de recursos, sino en la confianza que cada sociedad deposita en sus instituciones y en sus conciudadanos.
Ni la calidad ni su experiencia son universales ni absolutas. Son espejos que reflejan la historia, las aspiraciones, las posibilidades y los límites de un contexto. No es justo ni útil comparar desde el reproche al que vive en situaciones más precarias, sino desde la comprensión de que la calidad es un ideal que se construye, se cuida y se mantiene con paciencia, con conciencia y con compromiso colectivo. En ello también hay una enseñanza profunda: la calidad no es un favor que nos hacen, sino una responsabilidad compartida que se traduce en respeto, en ética y en derechos mutuos.
¿Puede alguien acostumbrado a la abundancia y a la certeza entender realmente qué representa la calidad para quien día a día enfrenta la incertidumbre sobre algo tan básico como conseguir alimento, salud o un servicio público eficiente? Quien ha vivido en ambos mundos puede afirmar que las experiencias son profundamente distintas, y que no cabe un juicio simplista. La calidad no solo es un producto, una atención o un bienestar físico: es también la dignidad con la que se vive, la seguridad que se siente, la confianza que se otorga y se recibe. Como dijo el escritor y filósofo Albert Camus: “La verdadera generosidad para con el futuro consiste en entregarlo todo al presente”.
De mi propiedad.
Y entonces, ¿cómo avanzamos hacia una cultura donde la calidad no sea un privilegio esporádico, sino un derecho habitual? Quizá la respuesta pulse en la sincronización de todos los engranajes que constituyen la sociedad: las normas, las infraestructuras, la educación, el compromiso individual y colectivo. No existe un atajo mágico ni una fórmula sencilla. Pero sí existe la certeza de que cuando la calidad se instala, cambia la percepción de la vida misma, los pequeños detalles se valoran como gestos de respeto y la convivencia gana en armonía.
Al pensar en la calidad, no dejo de preguntarme cuánta de ella depende de nuestra mirada, de nuestra disposición para reconocerla o para exigirla sin caer en el cinismo o la resignación. ¿Será la calidad, entonces, también un acto de esperanza? Una promesa que nos hacemos a nosotros mismos y a quienes nos rodean, para creer que un mundo mejor es posible no solo en palabras, sino en acciones cotidianas. Quizá aquí radica su valor más profundo: no tanto en la perfección sino en el camino hacia ella, en la voluntad de que la experiencia del otro, sea cual sea su contexto, merezca ser respetada y honrada.
Respondiendo al llamado de la usuaria-moderadora @miriannalis en su iniciativa El Valor de la Calidad: Experiencias que Marcan la Diferencia. Anímate a participar @cirangela, @issymarie2 y @sacra97. En el siguiente enlace encontrarán la información necesaria.
El Valor de la Calidad
Portada de la iniciativa.Creciendo como emprendedor, busca y encuentra lo que necesitas para ser un mejor humano en la Comunidad Be Entrepreneur. De seguro, hay un tema que te llamará la atención.
Banner de la propia Comunidad Be Entrepreneur
Dedicado a todos aquellos que, día a día, hacen del mundo un lugar mejor.
When Quality Becomes
the Mirror of a Society
Quality is an almost magical concept, but at the same time, it is terribly concrete. It is, in essence, the promise that a service or product makes to the consumer, and the satisfaction that consumer feels when that promise is fulfilled. In my personal experience, having been born and raised in Venezuela and living in Canada for 16 years, I have been able to perceive the many faces and nuances that quality takes, and how those differences are deeply tied to the cultural, social, and economic context in which it is experienced.
My own.
When I look at the opinions of those who have shared their experiences in Venezuela, I notice that quality seems to be something elusive, an ideal that is sought after, but often feels frustrating. Bread that isn't heavy enough for the price paid, a waiter who doesn't smile or is indifferent, service that improves only when there's a superficial touch like music or a pleasant aroma—these are stories that speak not only of unsatisfactory service, but also of a gap between expectations and lived reality. It's not that those who complain don't value quality; quite the opposite: they crave it, they need it, like any consumer in the world. But perhaps the difference lies in the fact that in these societies, the experience of quality isn't routine, it's not the norm, and therefore it's judged through that double filter of nostalgia and frustrated demand.
On the other hand, living in Canada has allowed me to see a culture where quality is so integrated into daily routine that it's simply taken for granted. I'm not just referring to the tangible quality of products, which often exceeds minimum expectations, but to that intangible quality that has to do with human quality, with mutual respect, with the trust established between provider and user. A simple act like choosing products in a supermarket reveals an ethic that transcends mere commercial exchange: a product with an approaching expiration date is sold at a lower price, and this is known and accepted by all. There is no deception, no suspicion, simply a pact of transparency and mutual respect that shapes a culture of quality.
It's interesting to think about this cost-benefit relationship when talking about quality. In Canada, taxes are high, and the general feeling is that they are worth every penny because they translate into tangible benefits: functioning health services, accessible and high-quality education, safety on the streets and in public spaces. Citizens are aware that quality comes at a cost, and that maintaining these levels requires constant investment, not only economic but also social and moral. Reflecting on the words of Ralph Waldo Emerson: "Wealth consists far more in the enjoyment than in the possession." In this case, quality is enjoyed because it is invested in.
My property.
This vision entails a set of questions that invite reflection: Are we willing to pay the real price for quality? What does quality mean to us when daily life presents so many challenges that go beyond a timely service? How do we build a culture of quality in contexts where scarcity, uncertainty, and structural difficulties are part of everyday life? Perhaps here lies a fundamental difference between countries like Venezuela and Canada: not only in the availability of resources, but in the trust that each society places in its institutions and its fellow citizens.
Neither quality nor its experience are universal or absolute. They are mirrors that reflect the history, aspirations, possibilities, and limits of a context. It is neither fair nor useful to compare with those who live in more precarious situations through reproach, but rather through the understanding that quality is an ideal that is built, nurtured, and maintained with patience, awareness, and collective commitment. There is also a profound lesson here: quality is not a favor done to us, but a shared responsibility that translates into respect, ethics, and mutual rights.
Can someone accustomed to abundance and certainty truly understand what quality represents for someone who daily faces uncertainty about something as basic as obtaining food, health, or efficient public services? Anyone who has lived in both worlds can affirm that the experiences are profoundly different, and that a simplistic judgment is beyond all question. Quality is not just a product, a service, or physical well-being: it is also the dignity with which one lives, the security one feels, the trust one gives and receives. As the writer and philosopher Albert Camus said: "True generosity toward the future consists in giving everything to the present."
My property.
So, how do we move toward a culture where quality is not a sporadic privilege, but a common right? Perhaps the answer lies in the synchronization of all the mechanisms that make up society: regulations, infrastructure, education, individual and collective commitment. There is no magic shortcut or simple formula. But there is a certainty that when quality is established, the perception of life itself changes, small details are valued as gestures of respect, and coexistence gains in harmony.
When I think about quality, I can't help but wonder how much of it depends on our perspective, on our willingness to recognize it or demand it without falling into cynicism or resignation. Is quality, then, also an act of hope? A promise we make to ourselves and those around us, to believe that a better world is possible not only in words, but in everyday actions. Perhaps this is where its deepest value lies: not so much in perfection but in the journey toward it, in the desire to ensure that the experience of others, whatever their context, deserves to be respected and honored.
Responding to the call from user-moderator @miriannalis for her initiative The Value of Quality: Experiences that Make a Difference. Encourage yourself to participate @cirangela, @issymarie2, and @sacra97. You'll find the necessary information at the following link.
The Value of Quality
Initiative cover.
Growing as an entrepreneur, seek and find what you need to be a better human in the Community Be Entrepreneur. Surely there's a topic that will catch your attention.
Community Banner Be Entrepreneur
Dedicated to all those writers who contribute, day by day, to making our planet a better world.
Dedicado a todos aquellos que, día a día, hacen del mundo un lugar mejor.
When Quality Becomes
the Mirror of a Society
Quality is an almost magical concept, but at the same time, it is terribly concrete. It is, in essence, the promise that a service or product makes to the consumer, and the satisfaction that consumer feels when that promise is fulfilled. In my personal experience, having been born and raised in Venezuela and living in Canada for 16 years, I have been able to perceive the many faces and nuances that quality takes, and how those differences are deeply tied to the cultural, social, and economic context in which it is experienced.
My own.
When I look at the opinions of those who have shared their experiences in Venezuela, I notice that quality seems to be something elusive, an ideal that is sought after, but often feels frustrating. Bread that isn't heavy enough for the price paid, a waiter who doesn't smile or is indifferent, service that improves only when there's a superficial touch like music or a pleasant aroma—these are stories that speak not only of unsatisfactory service, but also of a gap between expectations and lived reality. It's not that those who complain don't value quality; quite the opposite: they crave it, they need it, like any consumer in the world. But perhaps the difference lies in the fact that in these societies, the experience of quality isn't routine, it's not the norm, and therefore it's judged through that double filter of nostalgia and frustrated demand.
On the other hand, living in Canada has allowed me to see a culture where quality is so integrated into daily routine that it's simply taken for granted. I'm not just referring to the tangible quality of products, which often exceeds minimum expectations, but to that intangible quality that has to do with human quality, with mutual respect, with the trust established between provider and user. A simple act like choosing products in a supermarket reveals an ethic that transcends mere commercial exchange: a product with an approaching expiration date is sold at a lower price, and this is known and accepted by all. There is no deception, no suspicion, simply a pact of transparency and mutual respect that shapes a culture of quality.
It's interesting to think about this cost-benefit relationship when talking about quality. In Canada, taxes are high, and the general feeling is that they are worth every penny because they translate into tangible benefits: functioning health services, accessible and high-quality education, safety on the streets and in public spaces. Citizens are aware that quality comes at a cost, and that maintaining these levels requires constant investment, not only economic but also social and moral. Reflecting on the words of Ralph Waldo Emerson: "Wealth consists far more in the enjoyment than in the possession." In this case, quality is enjoyed because it is invested in.
My property.
This vision entails a set of questions that invite reflection: Are we willing to pay the real price for quality? What does quality mean to us when daily life presents so many challenges that go beyond a timely service? How do we build a culture of quality in contexts where scarcity, uncertainty, and structural difficulties are part of everyday life? Perhaps here lies a fundamental difference between countries like Venezuela and Canada: not only in the availability of resources, but in the trust that each society places in its institutions and its fellow citizens.
Neither quality nor its experience are universal or absolute. They are mirrors that reflect the history, aspirations, possibilities, and limits of a context. It is neither fair nor useful to compare with those who live in more precarious situations through reproach, but rather through the understanding that quality is an ideal that is built, nurtured, and maintained with patience, awareness, and collective commitment. There is also a profound lesson here: quality is not a favor done to us, but a shared responsibility that translates into respect, ethics, and mutual rights.
Can someone accustomed to abundance and certainty truly understand what quality represents for someone who daily faces uncertainty about something as basic as obtaining food, health, or efficient public services? Anyone who has lived in both worlds can affirm that the experiences are profoundly different, and that a simplistic judgment is beyond all question. Quality is not just a product, a service, or physical well-being: it is also the dignity with which one lives, the security one feels, the trust one gives and receives. As the writer and philosopher Albert Camus said: "True generosity toward the future consists in giving everything to the present."
My property.
So, how do we move toward a culture where quality is not a sporadic privilege, but a common right? Perhaps the answer lies in the synchronization of all the mechanisms that make up society: regulations, infrastructure, education, individual and collective commitment. There is no magic shortcut or simple formula. But there is a certainty that when quality is established, the perception of life itself changes, small details are valued as gestures of respect, and coexistence gains in harmony.
When I think about quality, I can't help but wonder how much of it depends on our perspective, on our willingness to recognize it or demand it without falling into cynicism or resignation. Is quality, then, also an act of hope? A promise we make to ourselves and those around us, to believe that a better world is possible not only in words, but in everyday actions. Perhaps this is where its deepest value lies: not so much in perfection but in the journey toward it, in the desire to ensure that the experience of others, whatever their context, deserves to be respected and honored.
Quality is an almost magical concept, but at the same time, it is terribly concrete. It is, in essence, the promise that a service or product makes to the consumer, and the satisfaction that consumer feels when that promise is fulfilled. In my personal experience, having been born and raised in Venezuela and living in Canada for 16 years, I have been able to perceive the many faces and nuances that quality takes, and how those differences are deeply tied to the cultural, social, and economic context in which it is experienced.
My own.
When I look at the opinions of those who have shared their experiences in Venezuela, I notice that quality seems to be something elusive, an ideal that is sought after, but often feels frustrating. Bread that isn't heavy enough for the price paid, a waiter who doesn't smile or is indifferent, service that improves only when there's a superficial touch like music or a pleasant aroma—these are stories that speak not only of unsatisfactory service, but also of a gap between expectations and lived reality. It's not that those who complain don't value quality; quite the opposite: they crave it, they need it, like any consumer in the world. But perhaps the difference lies in the fact that in these societies, the experience of quality isn't routine, it's not the norm, and therefore it's judged through that double filter of nostalgia and frustrated demand.
On the other hand, living in Canada has allowed me to see a culture where quality is so integrated into daily routine that it's simply taken for granted. I'm not just referring to the tangible quality of products, which often exceeds minimum expectations, but to that intangible quality that has to do with human quality, with mutual respect, with the trust established between provider and user. A simple act like choosing products in a supermarket reveals an ethic that transcends mere commercial exchange: a product with an approaching expiration date is sold at a lower price, and this is known and accepted by all. There is no deception, no suspicion, simply a pact of transparency and mutual respect that shapes a culture of quality.
It's interesting to think about this cost-benefit relationship when talking about quality. In Canada, taxes are high, and the general feeling is that they are worth every penny because they translate into tangible benefits: functioning health services, accessible and high-quality education, safety on the streets and in public spaces. Citizens are aware that quality comes at a cost, and that maintaining these levels requires constant investment, not only economic but also social and moral. Reflecting on the words of Ralph Waldo Emerson: "Wealth consists far more in the enjoyment than in the possession." In this case, quality is enjoyed because it is invested in.
My property.
This vision entails a set of questions that invite reflection: Are we willing to pay the real price for quality? What does quality mean to us when daily life presents so many challenges that go beyond a timely service? How do we build a culture of quality in contexts where scarcity, uncertainty, and structural difficulties are part of everyday life? Perhaps here lies a fundamental difference between countries like Venezuela and Canada: not only in the availability of resources, but in the trust that each society places in its institutions and its fellow citizens.
Neither quality nor its experience are universal or absolute. They are mirrors that reflect the history, aspirations, possibilities, and limits of a context. It is neither fair nor useful to compare with those who live in more precarious situations through reproach, but rather through the understanding that quality is an ideal that is built, nurtured, and maintained with patience, awareness, and collective commitment. There is also a profound lesson here: quality is not a favor done to us, but a shared responsibility that translates into respect, ethics, and mutual rights.
Can someone accustomed to abundance and certainty truly understand what quality represents for someone who daily faces uncertainty about something as basic as obtaining food, health, or efficient public services? Anyone who has lived in both worlds can affirm that the experiences are profoundly different, and that a simplistic judgment is beyond all question. Quality is not just a product, a service, or physical well-being: it is also the dignity with which one lives, the security one feels, the trust one gives and receives. As the writer and philosopher Albert Camus said: "True generosity toward the future consists in giving everything to the present."
My property.
So, how do we move toward a culture where quality is not a sporadic privilege, but a common right? Perhaps the answer lies in the synchronization of all the mechanisms that make up society: regulations, infrastructure, education, individual and collective commitment. There is no magic shortcut or simple formula. But there is a certainty that when quality is established, the perception of life itself changes, small details are valued as gestures of respect, and coexistence gains in harmony.
When I think about quality, I can't help but wonder how much of it depends on our perspective, on our willingness to recognize it or demand it without falling into cynicism or resignation. Is quality, then, also an act of hope? A promise we make to ourselves and those around us, to believe that a better world is possible not only in words, but in everyday actions. Perhaps this is where its deepest value lies: not so much in perfection but in the journey toward it, in the desire to ensure that the experience of others, whatever their context, deserves to be respected and honored.
Responding to the call from user-moderator @miriannalis for her initiative The Value of Quality: Experiences that Make a Difference. Encourage yourself to participate @cirangela, @issymarie2, and @sacra97. You'll find the necessary information at the following link.
The Value of Quality
Initiative cover.Growing as an entrepreneur, seek and find what you need to be a better human in the Community Be Entrepreneur. Surely there's a topic that will catch your attention.
Community Banner Be Entrepreneur
Dedicated to all those writers who contribute, day by day, to making our planet a better world.