I’ve worked in the food industry for quite a while, 16 years I think, often in kitchens but sometimes in other areas. About 20 months ago I launched my own food business. I’m the only employee. The few products I sell should be served fresh, so I go to the kitchen 364 days a year to prepare and deliver fresh goods. In some ways I can relate to Tyson Ho, in others I can’t, the difference being only how our work is similar or divergent.

He’s had much more attention than I’ve had. I’m not certain what he did to garner it, but I’ve worked hard to fly under the radar. From following the tech industry (and others) for many years, I’ve made it a point to not grow too fast, to avoid taking on more than is possible, physically or economically. I’d rather under-promise and then over-deliver. Or, as is often discussed in places like HN, I want to manage customers’ expectations.

One result is that I’ve done no marketing beyond some occasional use of Twitter. I don’t even have a website yet. In fact, I haven’t solicited one customer. Speaking to one person in food retail led to that person carrying my products when I launched, and every customer since has come by word of mouth. Since I only wholesale, my customers are not the people ultimately buying my products for consumption. So I do everything to keep my customers happy, word gradually spreads about my products, and other retailers find their way to me.

Still, I can understand the tight economics Mr. Ho describes. I was profitable within weeks of launching, but I’m not rolling in money by any stretch. I’d hate to know what I make on an hourly basis. But I don’t know because it’s not one of the measures I use for gauging whether this is succeeding. I measure myself by my performance in the kitchen —things like punctuality, product quality, sanitation. I measure customer service by my customers' satisfaction with how I handle their needs. And I measure the bottom line simply by whether or not the bank balance is going up.

He discussed balancing work with other aspects of life. I’m content with how I’ve done there. Mind you, I’m single and childless, so it’s not fair to compare me to him. But I’ve maintained some social life (that was never too big for me), and I’ve continued the long-distance friendships I’ve long been part of.

All told, I’ve never understood why people get into this industry. It’s physically brutal, mentally endless, hard to make decent money, and customer expectations are brutal. On that last one, I’ll note that every industry has its odd customer expectations, but food is one of the oddest I’ve ever noticed. Example: You have a date with your significant other. The restaurant darn well better seat the two of you within minutes of your reservation time. In contrast, the doctor’s office has a waiting room you’re likely to sit in no matter how punctual you are. Another example: Unless something sells out from popularity, food customers usually don’t tolerate things being unavailable. “I’m sorry, there’s no bread for the table because the oven broke” isn’t something you hear, and that’s because customers, and in turn restaurant owners, won’t tolerate it.

The best description I’ve ever heard about restaurant life is that it’s like working in an emergency room but without the life and death. But you can bet anyone worth their salt in a kitchen treats it like like and death. Still, I enjoy what I do and find both the work and customer service rewarding. I don’t blame anyone for trying this industry and fleeing it as fast as possible. And since it sounds like Mr. Ho is doing good work, I certainly hope he’s able to make his business work.