One of my best friends, Matt, is an architect. He teaches at the university in Munich. One day, he learned the lady across the street would close her tiny restaurant and move back to Spain to take care of her mother. What would she do about her six-month notice period?
Matt and his students took over the space in the interim. They turned it into a day bar, café, and art gallery. Since he is neither a restaurateur nor in it for the long run, Matt decided he would be happy to run the place at break-even. The rest of his business philosophy was also inspired by common sense: “Let’s have a few but high-quality items, charge low prices for the students, and make everyone feel happy and welcome.”
First, Matt dispensed with the silly upcharge-culture that has nestled itself into seemingly every café in town. Want oat milk instead of normal milk? That’s 80 cents extra. Want the drink on ice? That’s 60 cents extra. “No!” Matt said. His menu shows a deliberate “zero” next to those requests. The rest of the pricing is also simple. Crisps? One euro. Americano? Two euros. Cappuccino? Three euros.
Second, Matt sourced a few good snacks from a few good places. Olives from someone in Italy, large pickles from a reliable wholesale brand, and a unique flavor of crisps you don’t get everywhere else. Oh, and high-grade matcha, of course!
Third, Matt and his team added a touch of fairy dust to everything. Your chips come in a silver bowl, and your pickles on a silver tray. The latter instantly went viral, of course. The ice cubes are chunky and last a while. The Aperol and matcha latte are the cheapest in town but taste like the most expensive.
Then, there’s the art gallery. An open space for you to wander through as you nibble on some olives or sip your espresso tonic, learning about some young local artists and their craft. Plus, they regularly host events with up to 100 people.
The result of all this is a place where you feel like a celebrity every time you visit. You can treat yourself at almost no expense. At the same time, everything is simple, rustic, and down-to-earth—including the staff, which mostly consists of young architecture students. You’ll always have a chat there yet never feel rushed, and that’s why people keep coming back.
Perhaps the biggest surprise of all? Despite using high-quality materials, paying people fairly, and charging student-conform prices, the café turns a profit of several thousand euros every month. “Who would have thought?” Matt told me. “You don’t have to squeeze out every penny to make a good living.”
Have faith in your own ideas, and remember: You can afford to do the right thing—and the universe might even reward you for it.
