Sometimes I like to rage at the tyranny of the experts to whom we’re all asked to bend the knee. You know, the upright urban planners who have masters degrees in being ninnies and keeping us all safe from ourselves.
But there are times when expertise is indeed handy.
When it comes to cancer, you go to an oncologist.
You need some false teeth? Well, you go see my Uncle Bobby.
The point is, for specialized work, you consult a specialist. And naming a business? There are entire firms dedicated to that. They're called naming specialists.
Like bad teeth, sometimes you don't know you haven't seen the right professional until it's staring you squarely in the face.
Riding to my son's soccer game the other day, I had one of those mistakes staring me in the face with its one big eye poking right out at me like the blow hole on a whale.
The company that if it dropped the ball, at least it has another one, is called "Johnson Controls."
Johnson Controls?
How do you let this happen?
I mean JOHNSON control…
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