A Warning About Invention Help Companies

The call goes the same way every time. An inventor has paid for services from an invention help-type company, and now they’re trying to find a manufacturer. They tell me what they have in their hands: a generic report, and a patent pending file number.

That’s it.

The information sounds good when you hear it pitched. But there are holes in the logic, and the cost is enormous. Those people are getting ripped off.

I’ve received reports from many of these clients. They were all the same. The first page was different because it had a bad sketch of the inventor’s idea. The rest of the report? Poor information — and some of it was factually wrong.

One example: every report I’ve seen states that the toys should comply with standards set by the JPMA (Juvenile Products Manufacturers Association). Being in the toy industry for 30 years, I figured I should know about this. I didn’t. So I called them.

I asked if they certify toys. Their answer: no. They don’t.

Invention help companies push inventors into “getting a patent.” Here’s the problem most inventors don’t learn until they’ve paid:

You cannot patent the look of a toy.

I’ve discussed this with many lawyers. A toy patent must cover a very specific, unique mechanical function — or a unique manufacturing method. For example, one toy patent I came across covered a specific physical method for closing the stuffing hole. That one tiny technique was patentable. The whole toy was not.

Anyone can get a provisional patent for $125 to $250. But within twelve months, you have to apply for a full patent, which costs around $20,000. And most full patent applications for whole stuffed toys are denied — because you can’t patent what a toy looks like. You’d need to identify a very specific, unique part of the toy that’s never been made before.

If you’re not going to spend the tens of thousands for a full patent, and the toy probably won’t qualify anyway, why pay anyone for a provisional patent at all? It buys you nothing.

These companies tell inventors they’ll “market your idea to potential buyers.” For years I received their emails and faxes — because apparently I’m one of the buyers on their list.

I don’t buy people’s ideas. I never have, and I probably never will.

If their list of supposedly serious buyers is the kind of list I keep landing on, it’s a bad list.

The sketches and “virtual prototypes” (just computer-generated images) on the reports I’ve seen weren’t very good. Proportions were off. The toys looked stiff. I was told the virtual prototypes took many months. I’ve been working with artists and graphics people for over two decades — if we ever took more than a week to get sketches back to a client, we’d be out of business.