Running a Coffee Shop Made Me a Better Brand Strategist

The Unexpected Classroom

Before I ever helped businesses find their voice or created a brand guide, I was behind the bar — slinging lattes and sweating through the chaos of small business ownership.

Me and a few friends decided to start a coffee business. That’s a long story for another day, but let’s just say it was a wild ride. You know that thing called sweat equity? Well, I lived it.

I wasn’t some distant, hands-off owner either. I was in it. Fully.

Opening up at dawn everyday. Dialing in espresso shots. Washing dishes. Talking with regulars. I’ve cleaned floors, fixed equipment mid-rush, and memorized more modifiers for oat milk orders than I care to admit.

And the longer I did it, the more I started to understand something no textbook ever really teaches you: You’re not selling what you think you’re selling.

You’re Selling a Ritual, Not a Product.

Turns out I wasn’t selling coffee. I was selling a ritual.

People didn’t just come for caffeine. They came to feel something. A rhythm. A moment of calm before their day. A familiar voice. That consistent, caring stop before going to x,y, or z. A space that felt like theirs. That was the magic.

I saw that magic reflected back to me one cold winter day a few years ago.

I was handing out a drink when I felt a sudden, sharp pain in my back. Pop. I’d bruised a disc and could barely move. The pain was unreal.

I made the announcement that we were closing early — and without me asking, a few regulars stepped behind the counter to help me shut it all down. They wiped counters, packed up pastries, and locked the doors.

“No big deal,” they said. “You’ve taken care of us. Let us take care of you.”

Honestly, it caught me off guard. Somewhere along the way, this thing we built had turned into something real — not just a transaction, but a relationship.

As a coffee shop owner, I obsessed over quality. My ADHD brain dives deep into anything I’m involved in. I knew every origin, every flavor note, the ins and outs of each roast. We’ve got the medals and awards to prove it. Excellence really mattered to me then and it still does today.

But I learned that excellence without emotional consistency doesn’t land.

You can serve the best cup of coffee in town, but if the interaction feels cold or transactional? The magic’s gone. People don’t stick around for your idea of perfection. They stick around for how you make them feel — every time.

What It Taught Me About Branding

Even though my barista days are over (besides making my wife’s daily morning latte), when I sit down with clients to help shape their brands, I carry those lessons with me.

Yes — I care about design, positioning, and messaging. But I’m also listening for rhythm. Ritual. The things that create emotional muscle memory. The kind of feeling that makes someone come back without even thinking about it.

When an excellent experience is tucked so deeply into their subconscious, they can’t stay away. THAT is what brand loyalty looks like folks.

Because branding, at its best, isn’t about what you say. It’s about what you consistently show up and make people feel.

That’s the stuff you can’t fake. And that’s where the real connection lives.