My dad once told me, “Owning your own business is like riding a roller coaster. The highs are the highest, the lows are the lowest.” He wasn’t kidding.
I loved this business. I loved having a storefront. I loved the community we built. And obviously, I love food. But what people don’t always see are the countless variables behind the scenes. The ones your customers, employees, friends, and even partners don’t fully realize you’re juggling every day while smiling and handing over soup.
I don’t think one blog post can capture all the pros and cons. Maybe a docuseries.
But there are a few things I hear a lot.
“I could open my own business, can’t be that hard.”
Honestly, go for it. I encourage it. It’s one of my proudest accomplishments, and I deeply admire anyone who takes that leap. Just don’t underestimate how much work, risk, stress, creativity, and resilience it actually requires. Calling it “easy” unintentionally minimizes what so many small business owners pour into their work.
“Are you relieved you closed?”
No. Not really. I loved the chaos. And more importantly, I loved the people. When someone with food sensitivities or health issues walks in stressed and leaves relieved because they finally feel safe eating somewhere, that feeling is unmatched. Few jobs give you that kind of connection. I miss it every day.
“How bad could it be?”
Well… pull up a chair.
• Store issues. There are the everyday operational surprises, the things no one warns you about. Something always breaks. Something always needs troubleshooting. Something always has the potential to derail your week.
• HR. You instantly become head of HR whether you wanted that title or not. You mediate situations you never imagined mediating. You become part manager, part counselor, part referee. Turnover is real until you find your people. I was lucky there in the end, thankfully.
• Customers. Truly the best part. Also occasionally the most confusing part. They cheer you on, disappear when you most need support, and yes, there is always someone asking for “just a tiny free slice of cake” not realizing that slice alone cost more than their latte to make. Still love them though. Mostly.
• California. Permits, licenses, changing regulations, taxes, unexpected compliance issues, and social realities you have to navigate whether you planned to or not. For some reason, it seems impossible to own a business in California.
• Social media and marketing. Having great food isn’t enough anymore. You have to post, engage, trend, show up, sometimes embarrass yourself a little, all while running the actual business. I actually enjoyed this part, but it’s a real job on top of your real job.
• Reinventing yourself. In six years we adapted to COVID protocols, industry strikes, wildfire community efforts, immigration raid preparedness (yes, actual protocols for that, I still get really upset about this one, how did we get here!) and ongoing menu evolution. New products, events, discounts, layout changes, you’re always adjusting.
• Feedback. Reviews can build you up or ruin your morning coffee. Soup too brothy. Soup not brothy enough. Portions too big. Portions too small. One influencer post can help you soar or send you stress eating your own inventory.
• Cost. Everyone assumes rent is the biggest expense. Sometimes it’s labor. Sometimes eggs suddenly cost $14 when you bake every day. Vendor pricing fluctuates. Shipping jumps (Fedex and Ups up charge and get away with it during the toughest of times!). Equipment breaks. Water heaters fail. AC units protest. Windows need cleaning. Another glass cake dome mysteriously shatters. Again. It adds up fast.
And yet…
I would do it again in a heartbeat.
Because despite the stress, unpredictability, exhaustion, and occasional existential spiral, the community, creativity, purpose, and pride are unmatched. There’s nothing quite like building something people genuinely love.
If anyone wants the unfiltered stories, I have plenty. Just ask.