It survives the phone
A name made of ordinary words can be given over a bad line, on a job site or across a counter, and typed correctly the first time.
Sacramento, California
We keep a small number of plain .com names. Each one describes a trade, a crop, a route or a town. We offer it to a company it already describes, and to nobody it does not.
A name fits when a stranger can read it once and know what the company behind it sells. Most companies trade under a longer, odder address than the one their customers would guess.
We find a .com whose words match a working company: what it makes, what it hauls, where it operates. We write to that company, say what the name is and why it is theirs to consider, and ask one question.
If the answer is yes, there is one price, an escrow service holds the money, and the name moves to the buyer's own registrar account. If the answer is no, that is the end of it.
A name made of ordinary words can be given over a bad line, on a job site or across a counter, and typed correctly the first time.
Two or three plain words on a door panel or a yard sign are taken in at a glance. Initials and hyphens are not.
When the address is the one people expect, fewer quotes, invoices and purchase orders are sent to a near-miss that belongs to someone else.
There is one of each .com. Once it sits in your account, a competitor cannot trade under the words that describe your business.
Jocelyn Whitlock runs the firm from Capitol Mall in Sacramento. She finds the names, writes the notes and answers the replies. There is no sales desk and no call centre behind her.
Her notes are short on purpose. If one reached you, it was written to your company about one name, not sent to a list.
Send the address and a line about your company. You will get a plain answer: yes with a price, or no.