It's
a constant source of amusement and delight to me when I hear stories
that large retailers have simply not done their homework when trying to
take a very successful and really lucrative business model and
transplant it cross-culturally. It's as if the proverbial dollar signs
have been flashing across their visual/spatial spheres rendering them
completely blind to the absurdly obvious. No matter how improbable it may appear at first glance, the
following well-known dictum should always be followed: "If something can
go wrong, it most certainly will at some point."
James
Hookway/The Wall Street Journal - A local language team transliterates original product names into Thai.
BANGKOK—Is Redalen a) a town in Norway
b) a bed sold by Swedish furniture chain IKEA or c) something that
sounds uncomfortably close to getting to third base in Thailand? The answer, it turns out, is all three. IKEA is famous for using
tongue-twisting Scandinavian names to help identify its sofas and beds.
But as the big-box retailer expands into fast-growing new markets, it is
discovering that those hard-to-pronounce names can also have other
meanings, and that spells trouble in other languages.
Take Thailand, for example. IKEA launched a new superstore here late
last year, its fifth-largest in the world. It is packed with shoppers
seeking bargains among the flat-pack, assemble-it-yourself furniture or
wolfing down Swedish meatballs in the IKEA restaurant. Reading a standard IKEA catalog aloud, though, can draw strange looks, or worse. Besides the
Redalen bed, there is the very nice
Jättebra plant pot, which can sound in part like a crude Thai term for sex, and a host of other problematic words.
To solve that problem, IKEA is saying
adjö (Swedish for
adieu) to unintentionally saucy product names, and
hej (hello) to a team of Thai speakers who modify terms so they can't be so easily misinterpreted.

James Hookway/The Wall Street Journal
IKEA also sells Swedish-style preserves.
"The Swedish…words are important
because they bring a unique character to the brand," says one member of
the team, Natthita Opaspipat. She spent nearly four years preparing for
the launch of IKEA's Bangkok store by carefully scrutinizing terms to
see how they sounded in Thai before transliterating them into Thailand's
cursive, Sanskrit-influenced alphabet. In some cases, she and other
team members change a vowel sound or a consonant to prevent unfortunate
misunderstandings.
"We've got to be careful," says the 29-year-old Ms. Natthita. "Some of them can be, well, a little rude." Getting product names lost in translation is becoming more of a
problem for companies as the whole world becomes a potential market.
There are numerous examples of firms launching, say, a new car, in
places such as South America or Greece only to discover the name had
some unfortunate connotations.
When the owners of British food company Sharwood's spent millions of dollars launching a new curry sauce in 2003 called
Bundh, the firm was deluged with calls from Punjabi speakers who said the new offering sounded like their word for "backside."
Redalen bed
In China, Microsoft's search engine Bing
sounds like "illness" or "pancake" when spoken in local dialects,
depending on the tone. Microsoft executives there then made the search
engine's Chinese name
biying, which also referred to a longer Chinese expression
you qui bi ying, which roughly means "seek and ye shall find."
The problem, for some companies, goes back decades. When Coca-Cola
began looking for a suitable Chinese version of its name after launching
the drink there in 1927, it found that some local shopkeepers had
produced homemade signs using Chinese characters to replicate the sound
of the words "Coca-Cola," without noticing that the characters in
combination could be read as "female horse fastened with wax" or "bite
the wax tadpole," according to Coca-Cola researchers. Coke tweaked the
spelling in such a way as to take on an added meaning: "to permit the
mouth to be able to rejoice."
The risks are particularly high for
IKEA, which does business in more than 40 countries. It has more than
9,000 Scandinavian terms in its catalog, which is constantly being
revised and updated.
IKEA founder Ingvar Kamprad introduced the naming system back in the
1950s to help himself cope with dyslexia, using Scandinavian place names
or children's names that identify the company's wares instead of dull,
easy-to-forget product codes.
But Thailand, for one, has a conservative streak, which means IKEA
risks offending sensibilities if it doesn't police its pronunciations. To minimize mishaps, Swedish IKEA employees drilled Ms. Natthita and a
handful of other teammates on how to pronounce IKEA's names when
dealing with customers. If a word sounds a bit off-color, Ms. Natthita
is asked to suggest a slight change while keeping the word as close to
its original as possible.
"It's a good system," said Lars Svensson, Bangkok-based marketing
director, who appears to relish properly pronouncing words that sound
especially unsavory to Thai ears. He says that, with the
transliterations, some Thais wind up pronouncing the words more
accurately than English speakers who struggle with Swedish. Even so,
"there are always going to be a few that trip you up," he says.