I try hard not to get a kick out of television commercials. But every now and then I can't help myself. The spots for Minit-Lube showing black and white film footage of ridiculous inventions from the past crack me up. They just seem so . . . so, American.
Over the years I've learned that Mexicans - in a secret corner of their hearts - are all poets, all Germans are philosophers and all Americans are inventors - entrepreneurs with an invention that will set the world on fire and make a million bucks.Here at the newspaper I've spoken with a guy who invented an "ethnic Band-Aid" (all shades of human flesh), a fellow who invented disposable neckties, another who came up with seat-belt harnesses featuring tiny pictures of kangaroos and a dude from Texas who told me he was the original inventor of car stereo systems.
I have colleagues here who've concocted board games, produced household appliances with radios in the handles and fabricated special little sponges for removing fingernail polish.
Everyone I know has an invention.
The problem is you can't patent an idea, you have to patent a device, an object. You have to put in the time and money to get your idea "out there."
A couple of months ago I was driving around Brigham City when I noticed how drab, boxy and black the mailboxes were. People had designer telephones, designer cars and clothes. Why not designer mailboxes? A guy could put out a line of mailboxes with the logos of sports teams on them, perhaps, or photos of old movie stars, Disney characters, political slogans. You could even do a mailbox shaped like The Mailman - Karl Malone.
When I cornered Steve Handy - one of the Deseret News promotional people - I was already seeing dollar signs.
I just didn't realize the dollar signs were ones I'd have to lay out.
"Sounds great!" Handy said. "First, work up a prototype . . . get a metalworker to design and build a sample mailbox. That shouldn't cost you more than two or three hundred dollars. Then you need some legal advice, some marketing advice. I have a list of forms from the government you better check to see about taxes and such."
I sighed. "I guess the Deseret News wouldn't be interested in taking this on as a promotional project."
"Well," said Handy, "I guess no."
By the time I left his office I was out of the mailbox business and back in the writing business.
Still, a little fire inside me says there must be an idea out there that won't need a thousand-dollar investment.
I remember my youth. Years ago my mother was looking for something new to do for Sunday dinner, so on a whim she chopped a chicken up into little squares and pieces, dipped the "nuggets" in batter and deep-fried them. We woofed those things down like jelly beans. We called it "Mom's Chicken," and asked for it every Sunday.
"You really should market this, Mom," we'd say. "You could be famous, maybe even rich."
She'd laugh. "I'm sure," she'd say. "Who's going to pay money for itty-bitty nuggets of chicken?"
Like I said, there's an idea out there somewhere just waiting for me to come along.