
A frame narrator recalls his mistaken belief that office-boys invented advertising slogans, until he learns otherwise at a railway station. There, staring at the word "Phast-phix" on a gum bottle, he is approached by a small, sleek man in a frock-coat and tall hat, evidently fond of cloves, who claims credit for coining the word himself. The man explains that inventing such names is his profession: he keeps an office, is well known, and is consulted by all the best firms. He offers an example, proposing that if the narrator were to launch a "fluid mutton," he would need to come to this man for a name. The narrator protests he could think of a name himself, but when pressed, fails to produce anything usable and admits he would never attempt such a product anyway. The little man declares this proves his point, insisting the narrator would inevitably pay his fee of ten guineas for a name that would make his fortune, suggesting possibilities like "Sheep-O," "Flock-vim," or "Mut-force." Asked to describe his methods, the man says he has devoted years of thought to the subject and is constantly alert for ideas, which come to him at odd moments — in bed, on a bus, on a train. Regarding "Phast-phix" specifically, he recounts that a firm came to his office needing an urgent name for a new gum or cement. With no time to spare, he buried his head in his hands, his usual habit, and the name flashed into his mind at once, delighting the firm. The narrator observes a growing trend among advertisers of changing "f" to "ph," and the man confirms he originated this practice himself, arguing it is far more striking than correct spelling, which he calls unwitty. The narrator, humoring him, agrees. Pressed for further examples of his inspirations, the man recalls being asked urgently for a name for a new pen. He had already prepared one in advance, as he always keeps names ready for emergencies, and supplied "Ri-teezi" on the spot, noting it has since been heavily advertised and calling it a great success, adding that the pen itself is decent but the name is what matters. The narrator, addressing the reader, wryly confirms having indeed seen it advertised. Asked for another example, the man describes being approached by a firm with a new blacking that needed a knockout name. He provided one, and just the previous day received a visit from the company's Secretary, who reported that when the man's letter naming the product was read aloud at the Board meeting, it sent a thrill through the assembled directors, sober businessmen all, an event the Secretary called an epoch in the history of commerce. When the narrator asks what the name was, the man reveals it as "Shine-O," which he considers one of his best efforts: simple, forcible, immediate, and memorable. The narrator congratulates him on the achievement, and the two part ways. The narrator closes by wondering to himself whether there might really be money in the fluid-mutton idea after all.
By E.V. Lucas · Genre: Satire, Humor, Short Story · 1,061 words
The Interviewer's Bag
I used to think that the office-boy did those things. But no; it seems that it is an industry, and a very important one.
Another of our Conquerors is listed on Textopian as an essay by E.V. Lucas, dated Date unknown.
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advertising · product naming · brand names · slogans · commerce · marketing · business culture · urban setting · railway station · character sketch · dialogue · first-person narrative