Things weren’t going so well for Frank Bench. Sales were poor. Bills were piling up. He was on the verge of bankruptcy. When his friend called him with a business proposal, Frank didn’t think twice about accepting.
“I’ll be out of business in two weeks anyway,” he said to Otto, “I can’t see what it could hurt.”
On the morning of July 7th, 1928, Frank turned over the “OPEN” sign in the window of his bakery. He was mildly surprised to find that there were already a few women waiting outside when he unlocked the front door.
“Good morning, ladies,” he said as they rushed past him, “I see you know what you’re loo...”
He was bumped into from behind by a trio of bonneted women carrying shopping baskets.
“Oh! I’m so sorry, Mr. Bench! Is it really ready?” one of the ladies asked him excitedly, holding up a newspaper.
“That’s quite all right, Mrs. Wallace! Yes, it’s on the dis...”
Before he finished, he again had to make way for more customers.
“Pardon me,” he said softly and decided he’d better move away from the door.
He leaned against the wall, scratching his head for a few minutes, watching the customers go in and out. Some even came back a second time.
“Hey, Eddie,” he called to the clerk at the register, “I think I better get in the back and start making some more bread.”
Within two weeks, Frank’s sales had increased by two-thousand percent.
The Chillicothe Baking Company of Chillicothe, Missouri, wasn’t just selling bread. They were selling time. The bread was already sliced, each exactly five eighths of an inch wide.
Thanks to the spectacular new invention of Otto Frederick Rohwedder, millions of housewives around the world would realize a few more minutes of free time.