It’s a barista who keeps making the same mistake. A supervisor who won’t take ownership. A team member who seemed promising during the interview but now does the bare minimum.

The frustrating part is that you hired that person because you genuinely believed they would succeed. And things did go well for the first 6 weeks. The new hire is engaged, eager to learn, asks questions, and wants feedback.

Six months later, you’re frustrated.

So, what happened?

This.

Enthusiasm has an expiry date

Most people don’t join a coffee business, or any business for that matter, planning to be average.

Think about your last good hire. They probably arrived with energy. They wanted to learn. They wanted to impress. They asked questions, paid attention, and put effort into getting things right.

Nobody had to convince them to care.

Then something changed.

Many owners assume the problem was hidden all along. Concluding the employee wasn’t as good as they initially seemed.

Sometimes that’s correct. Often it’s not.

What really happened is that somebody who arrived enthusiastic gradually adapted to the environment around them. They learned what was important, what wasn’t, and how much effort was actually required to succeed.

People adapt to their surroundings. It’s human nature. Rooted in survival instinct.

The issue is not the individual. It’s the environment.

They don’t know what’s expected of them

Think about the way you see a customer, and the way your staff sees a customer.

You see a customer as somebody who’s chosen to return twenty times when they had dozens of other options.

To a member of your staff, that same person is simply be another flat white.

Neither perspective is wrong. They’re just very different.

The problems start when you assume your team sees that customer the same way they do.

Most employees have never been shown how their actions connect to business outcomes. They don’t know the financial cost of waste unless somebody explains it. They don’t automatically understand why a poor interaction matters. They don’t instinctively appreciate the value of a returning customer.

We often expect people to see what we see. They can’t. Not unless we show them.

They learn from what leaders tolerate

To be fair, every business does teach people what matters. But not through staff handbooks. Not through mission statements.

Through repetition.

People notice what gets corrected. They notice what gets ignored. They notice who gets praised and what behaviour gets rewarded.

If somebody is consistently late and nothing happens, that’s a lesson. If tables are left dirty and nobody comments, that’s a lesson too. If great hospitality goes unnoticed but speed gets recognised every day, people learn which one matters more.

Culture isn’t built during staff meetings. It’s built during ordinary shifts.

Owners sometimes underestimate how closely people watch them. Staff are paying attention all the time. And they’re learning which standards are non negotiable and which ones exist only on paper.

Taking initiative feels risky

Staff don’t think ahead. They don’t solve problems. And they don’t make decisions.

Yet, a suggestion gets dismissed. A decision gets overturned. Someone tries something new and gets criticised when it doesn’t work perfectly.

After enough experiences like that, people stop volunteering ideas.

Not because they don’t care. Because they’ve learned that taking initiative comes with consequences.

And doing exactly what’s required feels like the safest option.

People are far more willing to think for themselves when they believe mistakes will be treated as opportunities to learn rather than evidence they shouldn’t have tried in the first place.

Nobody shows them the impact they have

This is the reason that gets overlooked most often. Employees never see the results of their work.

They don’t hear that a customer came back because of an interaction they had three weeks ago. They don’t know a regular specifically mentioned them in a review. They don’t hear about the positive comment left after a busy Saturday morning.

As a result, work becomes a list of tasks. Make the coffee. Take the order. Clear the table. Restock the fridge. Go home.

People become more invested when they can see the effect they have on others. They don’t need constant praise. They don’t need applause every time they do something well.

All they need is to know that what they’re doing has a purpose beyond completing a checklist.

Because when people can see the difference they’re making, standards become more personal. Effort becomes easier to sustain. The work starts to feel connected to something larger than the next task.

A different question

Good employees rarely arrive planning to underperform. Most start with optimism. They want to learn, contribute, and succeed. They want to be part of something they can feel proud of.

Then they enter an environment that teaches them what’s important, what’s safe, what gets recognised, and what isn’t worth the effort.

Over time, those lessons become habits.

That’s why I’m sceptical whenever someone tells me they have a staff problem. Sometimes they do. Most times they don’t.

Before replacing another employee, it’s worth asking a different question.

What are people learning from the way your business is being led?

I think marketing gets deprioritized because of consequences. More specifically, the timing of those consequences.

An espresso machine stops working and there’s an immediate problem. No coffee. No sales. No business.

The AC breaks in the middle of summer and customers don’t stick around. Milk prices go up and margins feel tighter almost immediately. Staffing issues & supplier problems when you least expect or need them. .

Those things demand attention because the consequences are obvious.

Marketing is different.

Ignore Google reviews for six months and nothing dramatic happens tomorrow morning. Fail to build a customer list and next week probably looks normal. Stop paying attention to regulars and business doesn’t suddenly fall apart.

The consequences take a while to show up. And when they do, many try solving it with visibility. More content. More ads. More posting.

Marketing has somehow become shorthand for Instagram

Spend any amount of time doomscrolling and you’d be forgiven for assuming the cafés growing fastest are simply the ones posting the best content.

Sometimes, that’s true. A strong Instagram feed absolutely helps.

People discover cafés there. They send posts to friends. They save places for later.

Some cafés genuinely grow because they understand content.

But Instagram is the invitation. Not the whole experience.

Instagram might get somebody through the door once. The experience is what gets them back.

And more importantly, gives them something worth telling somebody else about.

That’s marketing too. Often the kind that lasts longer.

Marketing doesn’t stop once someone walks through the door

Let’s assume your social media game is on point. That people discovered your shop on Instagram.

The marketing job isn’t done once they walk through the door.

The welcome matters. The music matters. Whether staff make eye contact matters. How confidently somebody answers a question about coffee matters. How problems get handled matters. Whether someone leaves feeling looked after or simply processed matters.

Every interaction becomes part of your reputation. And reputation spreads.

Office conversations. WhatsApp groups. Neighbours. Friends visiting from overseas asking where to get coffee. Parents after school pickup.

Most of the people sitting in your shop today didn’t arrive because of an ad.

Somebody told them to go.

The most overlooked segment of the customer base

That “somebody” is probably a regular. One of the most ignored segments of the customer base.

Coffee businesses spend a lot of time thinking about new customers. Which makes sense. Growth feels visible. More foot traffic. More tags on Instagram. More people walking through the door for the first time.

Regulars are ignored because they’re already coming.

That’s the blind spot.

Regulars don’t just spend money. They shape the atmosphere. They recommend places. They bring friends. Then colleagues. Then family.

Here’s the beauty of the regular. Marketing to them costs nothing.

Loyalty is built through very ordinary moments. A barista remembering someone’s drink. Asking where somebody disappeared to after not seeing them for two weeks. Remembering a customer’s dog before remembering their name.

These things work. And don’t cost a thing.

Google is more important than Instagram

Think about how people actually choose cafés.

You’re travelling. Meeting someone. Working remotely. Trying to avoid bad coffee.

You search:

“Coffee near me.”

“Best café nearby.”

“Specialty coffee close to me.”

Then you scroll. Photos. Ratings. Reviews. Opening hours.

Then you decide.

Your Google profile is already doing marketing whether you’re paying attention to it or not. And many of you are not.

Old photos. Incorrect hours. Reviews sitting unanswered. Questions nobody responds to.

Sometimes a café loses the visit before somebody even walks through the door.

The most underrated platform

Instagram has been around for nearly 16 years. During that time, its ranking systems have changed constantly. Adam Mosseri, Head of Instagram, has publicly said changes happen all the time, not only through major updates. Nobody outside Instagram knows the exact number. But even if the platform changed just once a day, that would mean more than 5,700 changes since launch.

Yet so many cafés are trying to build their business on a platform they don’t control.

You know what hasn’t changed nearly as much?

Email.

It’s been around since 1971. 55 years old and still underrated.

I get it though. Likes and shares feel way more exciting than delivery rates and open rates.

Email feels old fashioned. Instagram feels alive.

But one is rented land. The other is a direct relationship.

A new coffee arrives. You’re hosting a cupping. Brunch launches next weekend.

You have something worth saying. Why say it only on a platform that decides whether people see it? Email lets you speak directly to people who already care.

Not everyone. Just the people who’ve said:

“Yes, I’d like to hear from you.”

A few hundred subscribers who genuinely like your café will often do more for your business than thousands of passive followers scrolling past your posts.

The difficult thing about marketing

The difficult thing about marketing is that it rarely feels urgent. Until it does.

Cafés become forgettable gradually. Fewer people mentioning you. Fewer new faces coming through. Regulars disappearing without anyone noticing.

The kind of problems that don’t announce themselves. Which is exactly why marketing gets pushed aside.

Not because you don’t care. Because everything else feels more urgent.

Until one day, marketing becomes urgent too.

And people are messy. Emotional, habitual, distracted, socially influenced, and often irrational. Usually tired too.

Consumer psychology is the study of how people make decisions, what shapes trust, why people hesitate, and what creates loyalty.

These are some of the key principles worth understanding.

Customers are buying something bigger than coffee

Clayton Christensen, a Harvard professor, made the argument that people don’t simply buy products. They “hire” them to solve problems in their lives.

Coffee is no different.

That morning flat white may be helping someone psych themselves up for a rough day ahead. The café visit after school drop-off may be the first quiet moment someone has had all week. The Saturday pourover may be the only dependable ritual left in a crumbling marriage.

Customers are not buying coffee alone. They are buying comfort, routine, belonging, energy, focus, calm, status, or escape.

When people say they love a café, they don’t give a technical evaluation. They describe how the place make them feel. The coffee matters, but so does the atmosphere, the familiarity, the soundtrack, the ritual, and the role the café plays in someone’s routine.

That is why one of the most useful questions a café operator can ask is this:

What job are customers hiring us to do?

Specialty coffee mistakes confusion for education

Anaerobic, thermal shock, washed, natural, and honey process, white peach, orange blossom and fermented cacao.

One of specialty coffee’s strangest habits is confusing people and calling it education.

Psychologist Sheena Iyengar suggests the problem is not lots of choice. The problem is difficult choice.

When people feel overwhelmed, uncertain, or cognitively overloaded, confidence drops. And when confidence drops, behaviour changes. People hesitate, postpone decisions, default to familiar options, or avoid the decision entirely.

This is why, after you say anaerobic, thermal shock, washed, natural, and honey process, white peach, orange blossom, and fermented cacao, the customer asks for a cappuccino.

You don’t need to dumb things down. You don’t need to lower standards. And you certainly don’t need to stop caring about quality.

You simply need to meet people where they are.

Instead of: “This is an anaerobic natural with pronounced tropical acidity.” Try: “This one is fruitier and a little more adventurous.” Instead of: “You’ll notice elevated malic acidity with stone fruit characteristics.” Try: “If you enjoy brighter, fruitier coffees, you’ll probably like this.” Instead of: “This washed Ethiopian has floral aromatics and a tea-like body.” Try: “This one is lighter, cleaner, and a bit more delicate.”

Because customers don’t become loyal to places that make them feel uncertain. They become loyal to places that help them feel confident.

Customers like familiarity more than coffee people want to admit

Owners want new coffees every week. Roasters want experiments. Baristas want to showcase unusual processing methods.

Customers usually want the drink they enjoyed last Tuesday.

That’s not because customers lack curiosity. It’s because humans like things that feel familiar.

Psychologist Robert Zajonc spent decades studying what became known as the mere exposure effect. His basic finding was simple: repeated exposure often increases preference. The more familiar something feels, the more comfortable people become with it.

This becomes even more powerful in habitual categories like coffee.

For many customers, coffee is not an adventure. It’s structure. A predictable moment in an unpredictable day. Something familiar they can rely on.

Consistency matters more than novelty.

That does’nt avoiding experimentation. Novelty matters too.

But novelty works best when layered onto familiarity. Reliable espresso, consistent service, and a stable core menu create trust. Seasonal drinks, limited coffees, and occasional surprises create excitement.

The strongest cafés understand this balance. Too much predictability becomes boring. Too much novelty becomes exhausting.

Regardless, the insight is this: customers want to feel understood before they are challenged.

Customers remember feelings more than flawless coffee

When a customer is recalling an experience, they’re not recalling the entire experience. They’re recalling moments.

Daniel Kahneman popularized something called the Peak-End Rule, the idea that people tend to remember experiences disproportionately through emotional high points and endings rather than through averages.

A technically perfect cappuccino followed by cold service at the till will weaken the memory of the visit. A mistake handled warmly can strengthen loyalty. A rushed interaction at the end can overshadow an otherwise good experience.

Customers don’t remember every detail of a visit. They remember moments.

Specialty coffee has a judgment problem

Most customers never tell you why they stopped coming. They simply find somewhere else to go.

The default assumption of the problem is price, location, or competition.

Sometimes the problem was simply this:

the customer never felt understood.

He’s the industrial designer behind Slayer Espresso.

Before Slayer, many machines felt engineered first and experienced second. Functional, yes. But also cold. And intimidating. Equipment people tolerated than something baristas genuinely enjoyed standing behind all day.

Chris studied metalsmithing and jewellery design, later completed his graduate studies in furniture design, and spent years building handmade bicycles. He made his living thinking about materials, ergonomics, and the relationship people have with the objects they use every day.

He didn’t come from coffee.

So when Slayer approached him, he looked at espresso machines very differently. He wondered why they felt so cold. Why machines at the centre of hospitality somehow felt mechanical to use. Why standing behind one felt transactional instead of enjoyable.

The result was Slayer. A machine that felt warmer, more tactile, and more human without losing technical credibility.

Years later, he opened Sunny George. A coffee shop in Kyoto. I was interested to understand why. So I interviewed him for FLTR Magazine.

A few things he said stuck with me.

Question the norm

Chris looked at espresso machines and thought they felt cold, industrial, and unpleasant to use. Most accepted that as normal.

He did not.

Familiarity blinds us. Spend enough time inside a business, any business, and eventually you stop noticing what does not work. A menu only regulars understand. An awkward ordering process. The workflow staff complain about so often that everyone eventually stops mentioning it.

Nobody creates those problems deliberately. People simply adapt to them.

Design for the behaviour you want

Sunny George has no WiFi. Seating is communal. People are nudged toward conversation rather than disappearing into laptops.

You may love that idea. You may find it horrifying. That is beside the point. Chris clearly thought about how he wanted people to behave once they entered the café, then designed around it.

I think most cafés accidentally encourage the opposite of what they claim to value. You talk about community, but your space pushes people into isolation. You want customers to stay longer, but the seating isn’t comfortable. You say hospitality matters, but ordering feels transactional.

The useful question is this: what does your business actually encourage once people walk through the door? Not what you hope happens. What actually happens.

Atmosphere shapes experience more than coffee does

If you’re deep into this hobby, you probably judge cafés based on coffee quality. You notice grinders, roast profiles, water chemistry, recipes, and extraction yields.

Regular customers, i.e. most of the people who walk through the door, experience cafés differently.

They notice whether the place feels welcoming. Whether staff seem happy to be there (this one really bugs me). Whether the music feels irritating. Whether ordering feels awkward. Whether they feel comfortable enough to stay or subtly pushed to leave.

Most people are not mentally scoring your espresso recipe. They are asking themselves something much simpler: do I want to come back here?

Chris spoke about how experience begins before the first sip. The machine matters. The movement behind the bar matters. The confidence of staff matters. By the time coffee reaches the table, people have already formed an opinion.

That doesn’t mean coffee quality is unimportant. Of course it is. The point is that customers experience the coffee and the café as one thing. If ordering feels awkward, staff seem stressed, or the space feels uncomfortable, people remember the experience before they remember the coffee.

Simple experiences outperform complicated ones

Chris wanted Slayer to feel approachable. Premium, yes, but approachable.

Specialty coffee still struggles with this idea. We mistake complexity for expertise. So, menus become intimidating, ordering feels uncomfortable and customers worry about saying the wrong thing.

Customers are not trying to earn a diploma in coffee. They want something that tastes good and a place that feels welcoming enough to return to.

Confusing experiences rarely feel premium. And simplicity feels thoughtful.

Small frustrations become big problems

Chris spoke a lot about repetition. The feeling of using something again and again. Tiny frustrations stop feeling tiny when somebody repeats them hundreds of times a day.

I kept thinking about café workflows. The grinder that forces a barista to take unnecessary steps every shift. The prep station nobody enjoys using. The equipment placement that looked logical on paper but is frustrating in reality.

The fact that people stop complaining is not a sign things are fine. It only means they don’t expect change.

Build around what you believe

Neither Slayer nor Sunny George feels designed to appeal to everyone. I suspect that’s why people remember them.

Chris seems comfortable disappointing some people if it means staying consistent. Sunny George doesn’t sell matcha.

In Kyoto.

He explained that choice was simple. Because everyone already sells it, and more importantly, it didn’t fit what he wanted Sunny George to be.

Customers don’t need to agree with every decision you make. But they should understand what kind of business you’re trying to build.

The cafés people remember are built differently

The longer I sat with my conversation with Chris, the more I found myself wondering how many coffee businesses are built around habit rather than design. Habit in menus. Habit in workflow. Habit in assumptions about what customers supposedly want.

Most café owners spend enormous energy trying to improve coffee quality. But the cafés people remember are built differently. Somebody noticed something everybody else stopped seeing.

Then decided to change it.

Blue Bottle is the kind of brand most people in coffee respect. Strong identity. Clear point of view. The sort of business people try to build. The kind of business I once dreamed of building.

So if Nestlé is willing to let that go, it’s worth asking what they’re putting their energy into instead.

How big Nestlé actually is in coffee

They reported about $28 billion in powdered and liquid beverages in 2024. Most of that is coffee. Nespresso alone did roughly $7.3 billion.

For perspective, Starbucks did about $36 billion in total revenue last year.

How the Nestlé coffee business is structured

The volume comes from Nescafé. Which is not surprising because it’s everywhere.

Nespresso is machines, capsules, repeat buying. And like Apple, once you’re in that ecosystem you don’t leave.

Then there’s the Starbucks retail deal. Nestlé paid $7.15 billion for the rights to sell Starbucks coffee outside Starbucks cafés. So now you can find Starbucks in supermarkets.

Why they sold Blue Bottle

They sold Blue Bottle Coffee but kept the capsule rights.

Nestlé runs Nespresso stores. So why not Blue Bottle cafés? Because those stores aren’t doing the same job.

Nespresso stores support something that already exists. They bring people into the system and keep them there.

Blue Bottle is the system. Each café has to work on its own. Location, staff, daily execution. Every day.

That’s a very different job.

So they let it go.

How people are drinking coffee now

Specialty coffee consumption is increasing, while traditional coffee has stayed flat. At the same time, non-espresso drinks like cold brew and blended coffee have grown by around 42% since 2020.

People aren’t replacing one type of coffee with another. They’re adding to what they drink. They move between formats. Between styles. Between occasions.

That’s the change Nestlé is responding to. And this is how they’re responding.1

Move 1: who to speak to

Nespresso didn’t drop George Clooney. They added Dua Lipa.

Clooney still represents what the brand has been for years. Familiar. Consistent. Recognisable.

Dua Lipa brings in a different audience. She reaches people who wouldn’t have connected with the brand before.

They haven’t cut one off to make room for the other. They’ve kept a link to the past while changing how the brand shows up now.

Most cafés find one audience and stay there. Same tone. Same visuals. Same idea of who belongs.

You should absolutely know who your core audience is. And speak to them clearly. And often. That’s a good thing.

But leave the door open. Make it easier for someone new to see themselves in what you do. Don’t let the brand turn into something only a small group feels comfortable walking into.

Move 2: what the product can do

Older Nespresso machines didn’t give you much more than a short coffee. Newer machines allow you to make more choices. Larger cups, milk drinks, cold options.

So when someone’s preference changes, they don’t need to leave Nespresso.

Café menus are usually built to help someone order quickly. And that’s as it should be. The issue comes after that first decision.

Most people find something they like and stick to it. Not because they’re not curious, but because trying something new feels like effort.

You have to think about it. Ask questions. Take a small risk.

So they default to what they already know.

You don’t need to rewrite your menu. You just need to make the next step easier. If someone orders a latte, give them a clear, low-effort way to try something slightly different next time. A cold version. A different milk. A small variation.

Nothing that forces them to rethink the whole order. If it feels easy, they’ll try it. If it feels like a decision, they won’t.

Move 3: cold coffee isn’t an afterthought anymore

Cold drinks are still treated like an extra in most cafés. A small section. A bit of an afterthought.

That’s not how people are drinking anymore.

Nestlé has built cold coffee into everyday use. It’s part of how the machines work. It’s part of how drinks are designed. It’s just there.

If you run a café, give cold drinks proper space. Keep them consistent. Make them easy to understand.

You don’t need more of them. You just need them to feel like they belong.

Move 4: when someone walks in

Nespresso stores used to be about getting in and out. Now they give you a reason to stay a while longer.

You can taste something. Ask a question. Spend a bit of time before deciding.

A busy café can’t afford five-minute conversations at the till during morning rush. The amount of money you make is directly proportional to how many cups you sell.

But if that’s all that happens, you leave a lot on the table.

You don’t need to redesign the shop or slow everything down. You need to pick your moments.

While someone is waiting, give them something to engage with. A small sample. A quick recommendation. Let them smell the beans.

Those small interactions do two things. People stay a little longer, and they try things they wouldn’t have ordered on their own.

Move 5: after someone leaves

Nespresso doesn’t lose the customer after the machine is bought. Machines get registered. Capsules are ordered directly.

They can see exactly what coffee people are buying. And they stay in touch. Suggest things. Send reminders. Introduce new products.

Through direct communication. Through their app.

You don’t need an app.

You already know who your regulars are. You know what they order. Acknowledge it. Remember it. Respond to it. Suggest something new.

Where this leaves you

Nestlé hasn’t changed what it is. They’ve just adjusted to how people behave.

You can do exactly the same.

Passion keeps founders going when money’s tight. It fills gaps when there’s no budget, no team, and no safety net. It carries the business through long days and uncertain months.

Passion is necessary.

In the early stages, it’s often the most, and sometimes the only, valuable resource a founder has.

What passion does well

Passion pushes founders to learn quickly and work hard. It compensates for missing experience and limited capital.

For a while, that’s enough.

When the business needs more

But there comes a time when the business needs more than your passion.

Early on, effort solves most problems. You work longer. You stay closer. You step in when something goes wrong.

As the business grows, that stops working. Decisions matter more than effort. Consistency matters more than energy.

What once worked because you were always there now needs to work when you are not.

Why caring makes things harder

Founders care because the café’s personal. That care creates identity and culture. That same care can also make decisions harder.

Letting go feels like giving something up rather than building something stronger.

Why leadership feels unfamiliar

Passion keeps you close to everything. Leadership asks you to step back.

Leadership isn’t about caring less. It’s about deciding more clearly on things like standards, roles, and systems.

But to founders who built everything themselves, this can feel unnatural. Distance can feel like disengagement. Structure can feel impersonal.

What teams actually need

Teams already know you care. What they need now is clarity.

Clear expectations. Clear responsibility. Clear direction.

Because clarity reduces hesitation. It creates confidence instead of dependency.

What customers respond to

Customers respond to reliability more than enthusiasm. They trust places that behave predictably.

A café driven only by passion can feel exciting. But also erratic. A café supported by leadership feels dependable. And dependability is what turns liking a place into a repeat visit.

Leadership protects passion

Leadership doesn’t replace passion. It protects it.

Structure reduces burnout. Clear decisions reduce frustration. Systems stop everything from resting on one person.

Leadership allows passion to last longer than your energy.

It’s not about changing who you are

The shift from passion to leadership isn’t about changing who you are. It’s about responding to what the business now requires.

Passion gets the café off the ground.

Leadership keeps it running.

The coffee is often excellent. Better than it was ten years ago. Cafés look better too. Owners care more about design. Baristas know more than ever. Most people in specialty coffee are doing good work.

And yet, most places are forgettable. Not bad. Forgettable.

Because they’ve optimised for admiration, not habit.

So if it’s not great coffee, why, pray tell, do customers come back?

The customer you already have is worth more than the one you’re chasing

I understand the focus on new customers.

A busy café feels good. Marketing feels productive. A successful promotion feels like progress.

But let’s do some math.

The average coffee shop customer spends around $8 per visit. If somebody visits your café four times a week, over fifty weeks, that customer is worth roughly $1,600 a year.

Now compare that to ten first time customers spending $8 once and never returning. That’s $80 total.

Focus less on finding new customers and more on building repeat business.

Why people actually become regulars

It’s not the quality of the coffee. If quality alone created regulars, the busiest cafés would always be the ones serving the best coffee.

People become regulars for reasons that aren’t rocket science.

Familiarity

Customers don’t wake up wondering who’s pulling the best espresso in the city.

They’re late. Tired. Thinking about work. Trying to get through the day.

The café that wins is often the one where you know what you’re getting. You know where you’ll sit. And you know how long it’ll take.

Recognition

People like being recognised.

Not celebrated. Not over welcomed.

Recognised.

Somebody remembering your drink. Knowing where you normally sit. Realising you’re clearly in a rush.

Small things. To you.

Not to a customer.

Friction

Customers stop coming back because of small annoyances. Not one major issue.

Accumulation.

Parking is frustrating. Music is loud. WiFi won’t connect. Getting someone’s attention just to place an order is a chore.

Comfort

Specialty coffee still has a bad habit of making people feel stupid.

Sometimes unintentionally.

A customer asks a basic question and gets a complicated answer. Menus are overly technical. Ordering feels like an exam.

So how do you actually turn customers into regulars?

You don’t need a complicated loyalty strategy. You don’t need to suddenly become everybody’s best friend.

You need consistency. And you need to remove reasons for people not to return.

A few things genuinely help.

Think about the second visit

Most obsess over first impressions. Fair enough. First impressions matter.

But ask yourself: Why would somebody come back next week?

Not someday. Next week.

What practical reason have you given them? Fast service before work? Reliable coffee? A place to work? Friendly staff who remember them?

Most cafés spend too much time asking:

Did people like us?

A better question is:

Did we make it easy to come back?

Teach staff to notice things

Not scripts.

Patterns.

Who orders the same thing. Who likes chatting. Who clearly doesn’t. Who’s always in a rush. Who sits in the same place every time.

You don’t need staff to memorise biographies. Start with drinks.

Walk through your café like a customer

Walk in. Order. Wait. Sit. Use the WiFi. Go to the bathroom. Pay. Leave.

What feels annoying? What feels confusing? What takes longer than it should?

Become part of somebody’s week

I think cafés sometimes ask the wrong question.

Instead of:

Who is our customer?

Try asking:

When are we useful?

Morning commuter. School run. Lunch break. Saturday ritual.

People build habits around moments. Recognize the moments.

One thing to do this week

Spend an hour watching your café.

Not managing.

Watching.

Who comes back often? Who do staff already recognise? Who seems comfortable? Who looks slightly lost?

Then ask yourself, if your regulars stopped coming tomorrow, would you know why?

It starts the moment somebody walks through the door, looks at the menu, or speaks to your staff.

These are the 5 most common marketing mistakes.

Copying trends

A lot of cafés copy what other cafés are doing. The same drinks. The same menu items. The same interior style. The same social media posts.

Customers stop seeing a reason to choose you. If your café looks and feels like every other café, why would they?

What to do instead:

Decide what you want your café to be known for. Then stay consistent.

Trying to do too much

Most cafés start with a clear idea. Then keep adding things.

Matcha. Espresso tonics. Giant croissants. Seasonal drinks. More food. More options.

The menu gets too big. Customers take longer to order. Staff spend more time explaining. Service slows down.

What to do instead:

Decide what you want people to come to you for. Focus on that. And remove the things that are not that.

Thinking Marketing can fix bad customer experience

Some cafés spend heavily on content. The reels are beautiful. The influencers are paid/ The posting is constant.

Then you visit the café. A takes more than a while to get wait staff attention. And even longer for the food to reach your table.

That is not a marketing problem. It is an operations problem.

What to do instead:

Fix the customer experience before spending more money on marketing.

Make ordering easier. Simplify the menu. Speed up service.

Good marketing gets people through the door. A good experience brings them back.

Talking like coffee people instead of normal people

Specialty coffee can make customers feel intimidated very quickly. And it seems to take pride in that.

Anaerobic. Thermal shock. Extended fermentation. White honey.

The customer just wants to know whether they’ll enjoy the coffee.

What to do instead:

Explain coffee in practical language. Focus on taste, texture, and whether something pairs well with milk.

Marketing to other coffee people

A lot of café marketing is really just cafés trying to impress other people in coffee.

Complicated brew bars. Extremely technical captions. Espresso recipes that look like science experiments.

Content designed to signal expertise.

What to do instead:

Speak to customers in normal language. Explain things simply. Make people feel comfortable ordering without needing specialist knowledge.

When to spend money on marketing

More marketing doesn’t fix a bad experience.

Fix the café first.

Make ordering easier. Simplify the menu. Speed up service. Make people feel welcome.

Then spend money on marketing.

That’s one way to do it.

The real growth opportunity is hiding in plain sight. It’s the people already standing in front of you.

What the data actually says

Upselling works because it increases the value of customers you already have.

There’s data to show that increasing customer retention by 5% can lift profits by 25% to 95%. The money is often already in the room.

If you serve 200 customers a day and increase average spend by just USD 1.50 per customer:

That’s roughly $300 extra per day. That’s around $9,000 per month.

Same space. Same team. Same number of people.

Just different conversations.

Why it feels uncomfortable

Most staff hear “upsell” and think they’re supposed to push.

“Do you want anything else?”
“Make it large?”
“Add something?”

It feels awkward. Staff hate to do it. Customers hate to hear it.

But good upselling doesn’t sound like selling.

This is good upselling

The milk upgrade

Customer: “Flat white.”

Your staff: “Regular or large?”

Try this instead: “Want to try that with oat milk? It brings out the sweetness.”

You’re giving them a reason to spend more, instead of just asking them to.

The pairing

Customer: “Cappuccino.”

Your staff: “That’s $6.”

Try this instead: “Our almond croissant works well with that. It’s fresh.”

You’re helping them complete the experience, not just selling them more stuff.

The size

Customer: “Latte.”

Your staff: “Small or large?”

Try this instead: “If you’re sitting in, the large holds its heat better.”

Now it’s about use, not price.

The upgrade

Customer: “Filter coffee.”

Your staff: “Sure.”

Try this instead: “We’ve got an Ethiopian on pour over today. Brighter, more expressive. I can make that instead.”

You’re giving them an option they didn’t know to ask for.

The extension

Customer: “Just this.”

Your staff: “Okay.”

Try this instead: “If you like this, we’ve got the same beans for home. I can grind it for you.”

You’re turning a one-time coffee order into a possible repeat retail customer.

What’s under the hood?

Every good upsell does something useful:

• It improves the drink.

• Or it solves a problem the customer hasn’t said out loud.

• Or it connects to what they’ve already chosen.

If it doesn’t do any of that, it feels forced.

How to teach this upselling

Scripts don’t work. You get scripted conversations.

You need to build instincts.

Start with observation

Before anyone says anything, they need to notice what’s in front of them:

• Is the person staying or leaving?

• Are they in a rush?

• Are they on their own?

• Do they know what they want?

Someone running in for a takeaway doesn’t want a long explanation. Someone sitting down might.

You can train observation.

At the end of a shift, ask each person to describe three customers they served. What they noticed. What they missed.

Change the language

“Would you like…” puts pressure on the customer.

“You might enjoy…” feels different.

It gives them an idea without forcing a decision.

One suggestion only

Too many options slow people down.

“Do you want cake, croissant, cookie…”

It’s noise.

Pick one thing. Make it relevant.

Make sure they know the product

If your staff haven’t tasted it, they won’t sell it. Everyone should know one reason to recommend each item.

Not tasting notes. Not jargon.

“This one is sweeter.”
“This one works better with milk.”
“This one’s lighter.”

Practice when it’s quiet

Don’t try to fix this during a rush. Do it before opening. One person plays the customer. One plays the barista. One order. One suggestion. Quick feedback.

Ten minutes is enough.

Do it every day for a week.

Track one thing

Average order value.

That’s it.

If it gets better, something is working.

If it doesn’t, go back to how people are speaking.

This is how you know the upsell worked

When it’s done properly, the customer feels understood. They feel like someone helped them make a better choice.

It doesn’t feel like a sale.

What happens over time

When people trust your recommendations, they start to lean on them. They try things they wouldn’t have picked on their own. They come back. The café becomes a place that guides them a bit.

That’s what you’re aiming for.

What the Home Barista Show is

It’s for people who brew coffee at home and want to get better.

They don’t watch. They make coffee. Ask questions. Get it wrong. Try again.

That’s the point.

What happened in Johannesburg

We capped it at 70 people. Tickets sold out in two days. A waiting list followed.

People arrived early. And as soon as they could, they got stuck in.

Four cities, four different rooms

I’ve done this in Dubai, Sharjah, Cape Town, and now Johannesburg.

Dubai and Sharjah were packed.

Cape Town was the biggest. One hundred tickets sold online. Forty more walked in. One hundred and forty in total.

Johannesburg was smaller by design.

The rooms felt different. The way people behaved once they were inside didn’t.

What I’ve taken from this so far

I had some time after Johannesburg to think about the Home Barista Show. Not just the Johannesburg event. All of them.

Here’s what I’ve learnt so far:

1. A good location gets people in once. It doesn’t bring them back

These events move cities. People still show up. So it’s not the location. They come for something else.

2. A specific audience is easier to build around

The Home Barista Show is clear about who it’s for. People who brew at home and want to get better.

That makes it easy for the right person to say yes. And easy for everyone else to ignore it.

3. People feel more connected when they take part

The best parts of every event come from people doing something. They make coffee. They ask. They compare.

That’s what keeps them there.

4. If your idea isn’t clear, nothing else will save it

Each event had a different partner. Different setup. Same response.

So it’s not the venue. It’s not the sponsor.

People are responding to the idea.

5. A strong idea can bring new people

In Johannesburg, most people in the room were new to Bean There. But they didn’t come for the café. They came for the event.

If you have something that people want to be part of, it can bring in people who wouldn’t have walked in otherwise.

The plan is simple

The plan is simple. Keep going. Take the Home Barista Show to more cities. Different countries. See what holds up when the context keeps changing.

I want to take this as far as it can go.

And as I do that, I’ll keep writing about what I’m seeing. The parts that work. The parts that don’t. The things I get wrong along the way.

If you’re building something of your own, you’ll get a front row seat to it here.

That’s a different problem.

Content is going out constantly. Every day, something gets posted. A reel. A carousel. A photo. It looks good. It gives the impression that things are moving.

But stop for a second and ask a simple question.

What is this piece of content meant to do?

Not in a general sense. Not “drive sales” or “build awareness.”

Specifically.

What decision is it helping someone make?

Most of the time, there isn’t a clear answer.

Who is actually making the content

In most businesses, content isn’t treated like something that carries real commercial weight.

It gets pushed down.

A junior person ends up handling it. Or it gets outsourced to a freelancer or an agency.

They’re given a product, a few talking points, and a deadline.

Then they’re judged on what’s easy to see. Likes. Reach. Comments.

So that’s what they optimise for.

Don’t get me wrong, this isn’t a criticism of those people. They’re working with what they’ve been given. But the setup itself is off.

Because the people making the content aren’t the ones carrying the number. And the people carrying the number aren’t shaping the content.

So you end up with work that looks right, but isn’t doing the job.

What the content ends up doing

Look at most coffee content today.

It looks good. Really good.

Clean edits. Slow pours. Close-ups of equipment. Careful lighting. Everything feels considered.

It tells you the brand knows what it’s doing.

And people respond to that. It gets attention. It builds a certain kind of confidence.

But that’s where it stops.

Because when someone’s actually about to spend money, none of that carries weight. At that point, they’re not looking for something that looks good. They’re trying to avoid getting it wrong.

What the buyer is actually thinking

The person about to buy isn’t watching content passively.

They’re working something out.

They’re trying to see if this will hold up in their world.

Will it fit under my counter?
Will my staff be able to use this without messing it up?
What happens when something breaks?
How often does it need maintenance?
Is this going to slow us down during peak hours?

You can see it in the questions that come in.

Not “Is this beautiful?”
Not “Is this well shot?”

They’re practical questions. Slightly tense questions.

They’re trying to reduce risk.

Those are the questions that matter. And most content doesn’t answer those questions.

Where most content goes wrong

Most content assumes the decision’s already been made.

It shows why the product is good. It highlights features. It presents the brand well. It makes the product look like the obvious choice.

But that’s not how people buy.

They hesitate. They compare. They look for reassurance.

And when your content doesn’t answer the questions they actually have, they go somewhere else.

Another brand. Another video. A review.

And that’s where you lose them. Not because your product is worse.

But because someone else made it easier to decide.

What the content should be doing

If the goal is to generate sales, then content has one job.

Make the decision easier.

That’s it.

Not louder. Not more polished.

Easier.

Easier to understand where this fits.
Easier to see who it’s actually for.
Easier to know what might go wrong.
Easier to trust that it will hold up over time.

That means answering the questions people are already asking in their heads. It means showing the product in real conditions, not ideal ones. It means being clear about limitations, not just strengths. It means helping someone picture it in their own space, with their own constraints.

What changes when you do this

The content starts to look different. It’s usually simpler. It often gets fewer likes. Because it’s not built to entertain. It’s built to resolve something.

But the people it reaches behave differently.

They spend less time second-guessing. They ask fewer basic questions. They move faster.

You’re not trying to win attention anymore. You’re removing doubt. And when that happens, people buy.

That’s when content starts doing its job.

You know it. I know it. Most people in hospitality know it. We just don’t say it out loud because, in the moment, it’s often easier to keep things moving than to deal with conflict.

Especially during a rush.

Most issues are simple

Most issues are straightforward. A drink is wrong. You remake it. Someone has waited too long. You apologise.

That’s the job.

When it stops being about the drink

But sometimes it stops being about the drink.

Sometimes someone comes in looking for a fight. They raise their voice. They demand instead of ask. They make it personal.

At that point, you’re not solving a service issue anymore. You’re managing behaviour.

This is where most people avoid dealing with it.

Because now there’s a risk. If you push back, things might escalate. If you don’t, you’re telling your team to accept it.

Neither is neutral.

When both the customer and your barista get it wrong

You’ll also get situations where both sides are off. The drink is wrong, and the customer is out of line. Or your barista handles it badly. They rush. They get defensive. They say the wrong thing.

When that happens, don’t try to decide who’s right.

Fix the drink if it needs fixing. Then deal with the behaviour. On both sides.

Your team is watching

Your team is always watching how you handle this.

If someone speaks to them badly and you allow it, they notice. If a customer pushes and gets something extra, they notice that too. If you step in and override them just to end the situation, they learn that their judgement doesn’t matter.

Over time, they stop taking ownership. They play it safe. They do the minimum to avoid trouble.

And that, my friend, is on you.

When you should step in

You don’t need to step into everything. If your team is handling it well, let them.

Step in when:

• they’ve tried and it’s not working,

• the tone has clearly crossed a line, or

• it starts affecting other customers.

You won’t always get the timing right. Sometimes you’ll step in too early. Sometimes too late.

That’s fine.

What to do when you’re there

What matters is what you do when you’re there.

Look at what’s actually happening in front of you.

If your barista is right, support them. If they’ve made a mistake, fix it. And do it without exposing them.

If both sides have handled it badly, you step in and take control of the situation.

What you don’t do is give the customer whatever they want just to finish the situation. That might solve it in the moment, but it creates a bigger problem later. It teaches the customer that pushing works. And it tells your team they were wrong to hold their ground.

At the same time, don’t back your team blindly if they’ve handled it badly. That doesn’t help either.

You’re there to correct and protect at the same time.

When you hear about it later

Most of the time, you won’t even see it happen. You’ll hear about it after.

When you do, don’t just ask how it ended. Ask what actually happened.

If your team handled it well, say that clearly. If they didn’t, correct it. Keep it specific. Don’t turn it into a long discussion.

Then close it.

What to set up in advance

You also need to make this simple for your team before anything happens:

• They should know where the line is without having to think about it.

• Give them something clear to say when someone crosses it. One or two lines they can use under pressure.

• Be clear on escalation. Try once. If it’s not working, call for help.

Some people are just a**holes

Be clear about the end point.

If someone keeps pushing, you stop serving them. You tell them you’re not going to be able to serve them today, and you leave it there.

No debate.

What this changes

If you get this right, your team stops guessing.

They know where the line is. They know when to handle something themselves and when to call you. And they know that if things go sideways, you’ll step in properly and you won’t leave them exposed.

That’s all you’re trying to do.

But there’s always something else to deal with.

So it stays.

You don’t know what you actually sell

You focus on the coffee. Because that’s what you control.

But customers are reacting to everything around it.

How long they wait before anyone acknowledges them. Whether they understand the menu without asking questions. Whether the drink they get matches what they expected when they ordered it.

If those things are off, the coffee won’t fix it.

You’re inconsistent

Mornings are controlled. By the afternoon, people start cutting corners.

Doses aren’t checked as often. Milk is handled differently. Drinks go out slightly off, but not enough for anyone to stop service and fix it.

A regular comes in three times in a week and gets three different versions of the same order. They don’t say anything. They just stop relying on you for that drink.

You make ordering harder than it should be

Watch someone new order.

They look up at the menu. Then back at the barista. Then back at the menu. They hesitate. Not because they don’t want coffee, but because they’re not sure how to order it here. Some ask questions. Some don’t. The ones who don’t usually pick something safe or leave.

You don’t hear about it. You also don’t see them again.

You guess your pricing

You don’t know which drinks actually make you money. You don’t know if your best-selling drink is also your lowest margin one.

You know your costs went up. You adjust prices. Or you hold them because you’re worried about pushback.

What you don’t know is which drinks are carrying the business and which ones are barely covering themselves.

You hire whoever is available

You need coverage. So you hire based on who can start quickly.

They learn how to make drinks. They can get through a shift. But they don’t take responsibility. They don’t notice when things are slipping. And they don’t step in unless asked.

You struggle to delegate

You say you want people to take ownership. Then you correct details during service. You redo small things after close. You step in when something isn’t done exactly how you would do it.

People adjust to that. They stop making decisions on their own. They wait for direction.

And you get pulled into more of the day than you planned to.

Your best people leave

After that, the shift feels different. Drinks take longer. Communication gets looser. Small issues aren’t caught early. You realise they were holding more together than you thought.

You don’t know your numbers

You know which days feel busy. You don’t know what those days actually produce. You don’t know how much each category contributes. You don’t know where margin is strong and where it isn’t.

You chase new customers

You put effort into getting people through the door. But you don’t notice people who used to come in regularly start spacing out their visits. You only realise it when a quiet week hits and you can’t explain why.

You don’t say no

A customer asks for a change. You say yes. Another asks for something slightly different. You say yes again.

Over time, the menu grows without being designed. Prep gets more complicated. Service slows down. Staff have more to remember.

You run a shop, not a brand

The café operates. People come in, order, and leave.

But if someone had to explain your place to a friend, they’d struggle to be specific. They might mention the coffee. Or the location. But nothing about your point of view.

What to do with this

Don’t try to fix everything. Pick the one thing that you know shows up every day. Not the easiest one. The one that affects how the place actually runs.

Fix that properly.

Then move to the next.

Where do I stand? Where do I order? What happens first? How long is this going to take? Am I about to get this wrong?

If the space answers those questions quickly, you move. You order. You leave. You come back without thinking about it.

If it doesn’t, you feel it. You might still buy a coffee. Most people do. But you’ll think twice about coming back for another.

The part most cafés get wrong

Most cafés start with how the place looks. Identity, interiors, menu design, tone of voice.

And, make no mistake, all of that matters. But it doesn’t tell the customer what to do.

You can have a well designed space that still takes too long to use. You see people hesitate. They look at the menu, then around the room, then back at the menu again.

The staff step in to help. They answer the same questions again and again.

That’s not a service issue. It’s a setup issue.

What actually creates the hesitation

It’s rarely one big problem. It’s small things that stack.

The menu is not visible until you’re already in the queue. The queue itself is not obvious, so people form two lines, or none. The order point is off to the side, so first time customers walk past it. You order, then realise you were meant to pay somewhere else. You get your receipt and don’t know where to stand next.

Small moments where the customer has to think when they don’t want to.

You can watch it happen. People look at each other to confirm what to do. They follow someone else’s lead. They wait half a second longer than they should before stepping forward.

That’s the cost.

What easy looks like in practice

There are cafés you can walk into anywhere and use without thinking.

You see the menu before you join the queue. The queue is clear. It forms in one place. The order point is obvious. The handoff point is separate. You pay once. You move aside. Your name is called where you expect it to be called.

No one explains anything because nothing needs explaining.

The coffee is consistent. The process is consistent. You don’t have to adjust your behaviour to fit the space.

That’s what people return to.

Where independent cafés lose people

Independent cafés put their energy into standing out.

They build a strong point of view. The design is considered. The language is specific.

That work shows. You can see the intent. And it’s beautiful.

But when the basics aren’t settled first, the experience becomes harder to use. The menu needs explaining because it wasn’t designed to be read quickly. Customers hesitate because there’s no clear place to stand. The barista fills the gaps, which slows the line, which makes the room feel more crowded than it is.

Everything still functions. Drinks go out. People get served. It just takes more effort than it should.

What actually drives people back

Most coffee buying is habitual. People are fitting it into a routine. On the way to work. Between meetings. On the way home.

That only works when the process doesn’t demand attention.

You can have better coffee. You can have a stronger identity. But if the experience takes effort every time, many people will still choose to go elsewhere. To the place that’s easier to use.

What to pay attention to instead

If you want to understand your brand, stand in your own café and watch what people do when they walk in.

Not what they say. What they do.

Where they stop. Where they look around. Where they ask for help. Where the barista has to step in and explain something that should already be clear.

Those are the points that matter. Fix those, and the place starts to feel easy.

And when it feels easy, people come back.

At the beginning, it’s easy to focus on what’s visible. Design. Equipment. Menu ideas. Branding. Social media. These things feel concrete and satisfying to work on. They also feel like progress.

What gets less attention are the parts that don’t as sexy.

Mistake one: treating the idea as the business

Most cafés start with a clear idea. A concept. A look and feel. A sense of what the place should be. Early feedback is often positive. People say it sounds good. They say they’d come.

That reaction can be misleading.

The idea isn’t the business. The business is rent, staffing, suppliers, waste, maintenance, and cash flow. It’s knowing what an average weekday needs to earn and how tight that number really is.

Many first time owners can explain their concept clearly but struggle to explain their daily breakeven without guessing. The story is well formed. The numbers aren’t.

Mistake two: assuming confidence means responsibility

Early hires often sound capable. They speak clearly. They have opinions. They’ve worked in cafés people recognise. That feels reassuring.

But confidence is easy to confuse with ownership.

A lot of people have worked in cafés without ever being responsible for outcomes. They know how to do the job, but not how to protect the business. They haven’t had to deal with the consequences when costs creep up or margins tighten.

When problems appear, responsibility can become unclear. Owners assume staff are watching the details. Staff assume the owner’s are.

Mistake three: underestimating how tiring the work becomes

Making good coffee once isn’t difficult. Doing it well all day, every day, while managing staff schedules, suppliers, equipment issues, and customer expectations is another game altogether.

Opening energy carries a café only so far. After a few months, the pace is different. Decisions pile up. Small compromises start to feel acceptable.

Standards usually slip slowly. Not because people stop caring, but because they’re tired.

Mistake four: assuming demand will take care of itself

There’s a common belief that if the coffee is good, customers will come. Sometimes they do. Often they don’t come often enough or predictably enough.

A busy weekend can hide a weak weekday. Footfall doesn’t mean repeat visits. Rent and wages don’t adjust based on how good Saturday felt.

Cafés that last tend to look for patterns. When people arrive. What they order. What doesn’t sell. Decisions are based on what actually happens, not what should happen.

Mistake five: delaying clear decisions

Pricing conversations get postponed. Performance issues are softened. Changes are delayed. Waiting is easier and less uncomfortable.

But waiting usually makes the problem bigger.

Clear decisions feel awkward early on. Later, they become unavoidable. By then, options are fewer and conversations are more difficult.

Cafés that last tend to deal with issues sooner than feels comfortable.

Mistake six: building for personal taste instead of customer behaviour

Many early choices are driven by preference. Music. Menu size. Opening hours. Service style. That works only if the owner closely matches the customer.

Often, they don’t.

Cafés that last tend to watch what people actually do. They notice what sells. They notice when people show up. They change things without turning it into a statement.

This doesn’t mean lowering standards. It means responding to reality.

None of this is a reason not to open a café. It’s a reminder to be clear about what running one involves.

If you’re still planning, you have room to get the basics right before they matter. If you’re already operating, many of these issues can still be addressed.

What they usually don’t have is exposure to the day to day reality of the business. That’s where the problems start.

They underestimate the work itself

People who haven’t worked in coffee tend to underestimate the job. Not the idea of it, but the actual work.

The days are repetitive. The tasks are physical. You spend long hours standing, lifting, cleaning, fixing, and stepping in when someone doesn’t show up or something breaks. Much of the work is invisible until it isn’t done.

If you expect ownership to sit above this, the business will correct that assumption very quickly.

They underestimate how much of the job is friction

Coffee isn’t the main challenge. People are.

Staff issues don’t resolve once and disappear. Customers bring frustration you didn’t cause. Suppliers miss deliveries. Equipment fails without warning.

None of this is rare. It’s normal. If you’re not prepared to deal with constant problems, prepare to be overwhelmed.

They misunderstand what consistency requires

Many people believe consistency’s a systems problem. Set standards. Train the team. Move on. That’s not how it works.

Consistency needs daily attention. It slips when people get tired or distracted. One weak hire or one disengaged manager can undo months of effort.

Quality doesn’t decline slowly. It drops suddenly.

They overestimate what customers care about

Owners focus on equipment, technique, and sourcing. Customers focus on speed, friendliness, cleanliness, and whether the coffee tastes good.

That mismatch frustrates many first time owners.

If you expect customers to reward your priorities, you’ll be disappointed.

They’re unprepared for how money actually feels

Even cafes that are profitable often feel short on cash. Rent leaves on time. Salaries leave on time. Repairs arrive without notice. Slower periods still cost the same to operate.

Many owners are surprised by how often they have to put their own money into a business that looks like it’s doing well.

They underestimate how lonely decisions become

Early on, advice is everywhere. Once the novelty fades and the risks become real, those voices disappear. You still make the calls. You still carry the outcomes. That isolation changes how the job feels.

They underestimate how long competence takes

A year sounds like a long time until you live it. Real confidence comes from seeing the same problems repeat. Until then, most decisions are reactive. You’re responding rather than leading.

That unsettled feeling’s normal, but you’ll read it as failure.

Before you open anything

If someone asks what they should do before opening a coffee shop, the answer’s simple. Work in one. Not for inspiration. For exposure. Work busy days. Close at night. Deal with complaints that make no sense. Count stock when you’re tired. Watch how small mistakes turn into larger problems. That experience doesn’t guarantee success. But it does remove illusion.

Loving coffee isn’t enough. You need to respect the work. If that respect’s already there, ownership is something you can grow into. If it isn’t, the business will teach it to you anyway.

I’m sure he needs no introduction to most of you. But, just in case you’re like my wife, let me explain who he is. James Hoffmann is a former World Barista Champion and the author of The World Atlas of Coffee. More importantly, he’s huge on Youtube. 2.46 million people watch his coffee content.

His talk didn’t disappoint. And these are the three most important insights he offered.

1. Coffee industry growth headlines do not describe operating reality

The headlines are bullish. The industry is growing. Consumption is rising. New markets are opening.

These statements are all true. They are also misleading.

At the same time as this growth, producers are dealing with higher costs. Roasters are facing less predictable supply and climate pressure. Cafés are operating under rising rents, staffing challenges, and customers whose routines are less predictable than before.

Growth and pressure are happening at the same time.

Coffee business owners shouldn’t led the positive headlines lead them into a false sense of security. If you are entering coffee or expanding because the industry looks healthy, you are only seeing half the picture.

The correct way to read growth headlines is not optimism. It’s caution.

2. Coffee enthusiasts are not representative of the market

Most people working in coffee are enthusiasts. They care about beans, processing, equipment, and technique. They enjoy learning and discussing these things. It becomes easy to assume that people who care about coffee this deeply represent the average customer.

They don’t.

The average coffee customer behaves very differently. They want a drink they recognise. They want it to taste the same every time. They want to order quickly. They want coffee to fit into their day without effort.

If you design your menu, pricing, equipment choices, or service model based on what you personally enjoy, you’re building a business for people like you, not for the people paying your bills.

3. Coffee businesses are not competing with each other. They are competing with changing consumer habits.

When footfall drops or repeat visits slow, many coffee businesses look for the cause in the wrong place. A new café opened nearby. A competitor changed their offering. Someone else has better coffee.

Often, that’s not what’s happening.

Customers now move easily between coffee, matcha, iced drinks, bottled drinks, and staying home. These decisions are made quickly and are driven by convenience, timing, and routine.

It means that coffee businesses are not mainly competing on quality or brand. They are competing against alternative consumer habits.

Long story short

Coffee is growing, but it is becoming harder to run a business well. Enthusiasts dominate the conversation, but they do not represent demand. And coffee businesses are no longer competing in a closed category. They are competing inside people’s daily routines, alongside many other choices.

Long story short: stop relying on optimism, stop mistaking noise for demand, and stop solving the wrong problems.

But the real problem isn’t the drink. It’s mistaking stubbornness for clarity.

In specialty coffee, saying no feels like strength. We’re focused. We don’t chase trends. We know who we are.

Sometimes that’s true. Sometimes it’s just ego dressed up as principle.

A vision is a bet

A vision is not sacred. It’s a bet.

You are betting that this offer, at this price, for this audience, in this location, will generate enough revenue to justify its existence.

That’s it.

When customers repeatedly ask for something you don’t offer, they’re not challenging your identity. They’re stress testing your bet.

And how you respond to that tells you whether you’re thinking clearly or protecting a story.

You’re confusing things

Every business has a core and a format.

Core is what you stand for. Quality. Hospitality. Craft. Discipline.

Format is how you currently express that. Coffee only. Limited menu. Premium pricing. No alternative drinks.

Core is principle. Format is structure.

Core should be defended. Format should be examined.

Founders confuse the two all the time.

They start treating the structure as if it were sacred. They speak about a menu decision as if it were a moral decision.

It isn’t. It’s operational.

What actually happens

Sales stop growing. Margins tighten. The shop is less and less busy.

You explain it away. It’s the season. It’s inflation. It’s the economy.

And maybe it is.

Or maybe your format no longer fits the market the way it used to.

If your numbers are strong, good. Keep going. You’re being disciplined.

If your numbers are weak and you still refuse to question the format, you are not defending standards. You are avoiding discomfort.

The opposite mistake is just as weak

Some operators swing the other way. They see demand change and immediately add everything. New categories. New SKUs. New noise.

The menu grows. The team gets stretched. The brand blurs. That’s not good business. That’s insecurity.

Both rigidity and panic come from ego. One refuses to adapt because change feels like loss. The other adapts blindly because it never understood what mattered in the first place.

Real discipline sits in the middle.mTest properly. Measure properly. Then decide.

Without pride.

If it wasn’t yours

Here’s the real test.

If this wasn’t your café, if you were advising someone else with the same numbers and the same signals, what would you tell them?

Would you tell them to protect the current format? Or would you tell them to adjust it while keeping the core intact?

Be honest.

If your advice changes once your identity is removed, you’ve found the problem. You’re not protecting the business. You’re protecting yourself.

The point

The market wanting matcha does not mean you must serve matcha. But it is information.

Strong visions refine themselves when confronted with information. Weak visions hide behind them.

If you cannot separate core from format, you will mistake evolution for betrayal. And when that happens, you don’t lose your standards. You lose relevance.

Matcha was never the issue. Your judgement was.

When owners say they want staff to care more, they rarely mean emotional attachment. They mean something far more practical. They want consistency. They want follow through. They want someone to notice when standards slip and fix it without being chased.

That’s reasonable.

What isn’t reasonable is expecting emotional ownership without actual ownership.

What “care” really means

Strip it back and most owners want four things:

1. Show up on time.

2. Follow standards when no one’s watching.

3. Fix small problems before they become bigger ones.

4. Treat customers and colleagues with respect.

That’s it.

No one is asking for lifelong loyalty. No one is asking staff to lose sleep over payroll. What owners are looking for is professionalism.

But professionalism doesn’t grow in speeches. It grows in structure.

You can talk about passion all you want. If the rules change depending on your mood, passion won’t save you. If effort leads to public correction or mixed messages, people adapt. They protect themselves.

That’s human.

The fastest way to drain care

In cafés that struggle with staff engagement, there’s a pattern. Responsibility gets handed out. Authority doesn’t.

You tell a barista to own service. They still need approval to comp a drink. You ask them to maintain standards. Then you override them in front of a customer. You say you want leaders on the floor. But every meaningful decision runs through you.

At first, they try.

Then they learn.

They learn it’s safer to wait. Safer to check. Safer to do only what’s required. Not because they don’t care. Because experience has taught them initiative carries risk and little reward.

Owners often interpret that as laziness. It isn’t. It’s calibration.

Stop demanding care. Design for it.

If you want people to care more, stop asking them to feel differently. Make it easier for them to work well.

Be explicit about what matters when it’s busy. Is speed the priority or connection? What never gets compromised, even during a rush? What happens when something goes wrong? Who can fix it on the spot? What decisions can staff make without checking first?

Most owners assume those answers are obvious. They aren’t.

Clarity removes fear. Authority builds confidence. Systems build trust.

When effort reliably leads to a fair outcome, people lean in. When it doesn’t, they pull back. It’s not personal. It’s self preservation.

And if you’re honest, you’ve done the same thing in environments where leadership was inconsistent.

We all have.

The objection you’re probably holding

Some of you are reading this thinking, I’ve already given authority. I’ve told them they can make decisions. And it still doesn’t feel like they care.

Fair.

Ask yourself these questions. What happens the first time they make a call you wouldn’t have made? Do you back them publicly and coach them later? Or do you step in and correct them on the spot? Do you praise initiative even when the outcome isn’t perfect? Or do you focus on the mistake?

The culture of a café isn’t defined in meetings. It’s defined in moments of tension. That’s when everyone learns what’s truly allowed.

The kind of care that lasts

The cafés where staff appear deeply invested are rarely dramatic about culture. They’re predictable.

Rules are stable. Standards don’t change with mood. Good work is noticed. Poor work is addressed calmly and consistently. There’s very little theatre.

People show up. They do their jobs well. They go home without emotional residue.

That’s the version of care that lasts.

You can’t force attachment to a business someone doesn’t own. But you can build an environment where professionalism feels fair, safe, and worth the effort.

What to do next

Write down three decisions your staff can make today without approval. Tell them clearly. Then the next time they use that authority, back them. Even if you would have chosen differently.

Especially then.

You don’t get care by demanding it. You earn it by creating a place where doing the right thing is supported, not second guessed.

That takes restraint. It takes consistency. And, once in a while, it takes you swallowing your ego.

But when you get it right, you’ll notice something subtle. You don’t have to ask for care anymore. You can see it.

But untrained consumers struggle to distinguish fine quality differences in coffee compared to trained experts. In blind testing, consumers detected few differences between samples experts had classified differently, and there were no significant differences in overall acceptance.²

Service, on the other hand, is something customers consistently notice and rate. Large-scale satisfaction studies measure staff courtesy and helpfulness as core drivers of overall experience. Decades of hospitality research show perceived service quality strongly predicts satisfaction and intent to return.⁴

So if customers are less sensitive to small technical differences and highly sensitive to service behavior, your training priorities should reflect that.

Here are the 10 soft skills that deserve structured training.

1. Acknowledging someone immediately

Responsiveness is one of the strongest service quality dimensions in hospitality research. If someone walks in and no one looks up, the experience has already dipped. Eye contact within seconds. A simple “We’ll be right with you.” Train it. Measure it.

2. Reading urgency

Some customers are in a rush. Some are browsing. Responsiveness and empathy influence satisfaction. If someone keeps glancing at their watch, speed matters more than origin stories. That adjustment can be taught.

3. Explaining simply

Empathy is a core service dimension. Instead of explaining processing methods immediately, ask one grounding question: “Do you prefer something lighter or more chocolatey?” That shifts the interaction from performance to guidance.

4. Listening fully

Perceived attentiveness strongly affects service evaluations. Interrupting signals impatience. Listening is visible. It can be coached.

5. Handling complaints

Effective complaint handling influences satisfaction and loyalty. Lower your voice. Acknowledge before you defend. Offer a solution quickly. That is skill, not personality.

6. Tone awareness

Courtesy and assurance are repeatedly linked to satisfaction. Tone travels faster than words. Train staff to be aware of it.

7. Reading discomfort

Empathy includes recognizing unspoken cues. If someone steps back or avoids eye contact, adjust. Not everyone wants engagement. Some want efficiency.

8. Making regulars feel known

The service-profit chain links employee behavior to repeat business and profitability. Remembering names and orders builds perceived value. That habit can be systemized.

9. Knowing when to stop talking

Clarity and responsiveness improve satisfaction. If someone nods and steps back, they’re done. Restraint is part of professionalism.

10. Recovering from mistakes

Proper handling of mistakes can restore satisfaction. Apologize clearly. Remake quickly. Avoid defensiveness. Practice it before you need it.

If untrained consumers struggle to detect subtle coffee differences,¹ and service quality strongly predicts satisfaction and return intent,⁴ then training should reflect that.

Coffee quality gets you in the game. Service quality keeps you there.