Article Two

The Bar Test, and Three Others Like It

A name is not a logo on a screen. It is a word said aloud, in a noisy room, by someone who has heard it once.

The most useful naming tests are embarrassingly low-tech. The first is the bar test: say the name aloud to someone across a crowded table and ask them to write it down. If they hesitate, ask how to spell it, or produce a plausible variant, the name has a tax attached to it — one that will be paid every time a customer tries to find you and lands somewhere else.

The second is the radio test. Strip away the typography, the color, the clever letterform, and see what survives as pure sound. A name that depends on its visual treatment to make sense is not a name; it is a logo wearing a name's clothes.

The third is the misspelling test. Write down every wrong version a reasonable person might type. If that list runs long, each entry represents traffic, mail, and trust quietly leaking away for as long as the company exists.

If a name has to be spelled out loud, it will be spelled out loud forever.

The fourth is the least technical and the most revealing. Say the name to a stranger and watch their face. Not their words — their face. A good name produces a small, involuntary flicker of recognition, the look of someone who has just understood something without effort. That flicker cannot be manufactured in a workshop, and it is worth more than any focus group.