The hospo game ain’t no picnic.
For those restaurateurs who aren’t part of a corporate conglomerate or who don’t have big money behind them, it’s a bit like a mashup of Monopoly and Cluedo: you drive around in a thimble hoping for a bonus from the community chest but end up getting stung by outrageous rents and giving any dough you have left to the bank. Meanwhile, Colonel Mustard is waiting for you in the dining room with a dagger in his hand.
Scratch the glossy surface of an outwardly successful owner-run restaurant and there is a pretty good chance you will find stress and heartbreak, not to mention betrayal, depression or impending financial ruin. Like racehorse ownership, it’s not something you can go into expecting to make a tonne of money. Because chances are you’ll end up a dog’s breakfast.