New Year's Resolution #3: Find Another Revenue Stream

Restaurants survive on thin margins and stubborn hope. Anyone who’s ever signed the back of a check instead of the front knows this truth in their bones. You build a place because you love food, because you believe in hospitality, because you think you can do it better—or at least more honestly—than the place down the street. But love doesn’t pay rent, and passion doesn’t cover payroll when the weather turns or tourism dries up. Operators don’t get the luxury of romantic blindness. We have to think in revenue streams.

That’s where merchandise earns its seat at the table.

Not as a gimmick. Not as a distraction from the food. But as one of the few additional revenue channels that actually fits the restaurant business—if you do it right. When merch aligns with your concept and builds naturally off what you already produce, it becomes one of the cleanest, least disruptive ways to add dollars to the bottom line.

Look at the places that figured this out early. Hard Rock Cafe didn’t just sell burgers; it sold proof. Proof that you’d been there, that you’d participated. Those shirts moved at margins that would make most food operators weep quietly into their spreadsheets. Hooters, for all the eye-rolling it inspires, understood that its brand was larger than its wings. The merch wasn’t ancillary—it was infrastructure.

Now scale that thinking down to fast casual, where most operators live and grind.

You don’t have the square footage or staff for white-tablecloth theatrics. You don’t have the luxury of labor-heavy add-ons. What you do have is volume, personality, and a guest who’s already standing at the counter with their wallet out. Merchandise, when thoughtfully integrated, doesn’t slow service. It doesn’t complicate execution. It simply gives the guest another way to say yes.

The mistake operators make is treating merch like a separate business. It’s not. It’s an extension of what you already do well.

If you’re a coffee shop, selling branded whole-bean coffee isn’t a creative leap—it’s a logical one. You’re already sourcing, roasting, or curating beans that guests trust you with every morning. Bagging that coffee for retail turns a daily habit into recurring revenue. It also smooths out slow afternoons and seasonal dips. The coffee doesn’t care if foot traffic is down; it waits patiently on the shelf.

If you’re a bakery, packaged cookies and brownies aren’t novelty items. They’re scalable versions of your core product. The margins are better than plated desserts, the labor is already baked in, and the shelf life buys you flexibility. A guest grabbing a box on the way out is pure incremental revenue—no extra seats, no extra staff.

If your establishment is known for a special sauce, a spice blend, a dressing, or a condiment people ask for “just a little extra of,” that’s not a compliment—it’s a sign. Bottle it. Label it. Price it properly. You’ve already paid to develop the flavor. Retail lets you monetize it again and again without adding complexity to the line.

This is where merch stops being cute and starts being smart.

Non-edible merch plays a different but equally valuable role. A well-made t-shirt or hoodie doesn’t just generate a healthy margin; it markets for you without recurring cost. Every time someone wears it, your brand travels for free. In tourist towns, this effect multiplies. Visitors want keepsakes, and they’re far less price-sensitive when they’re buying a memory instead of some grub.

But here’s the catch: merch that doesn’t align with the concept doesn’t sell, and worse—it cheapens the brand. Additional revenue streams only work when they reinforce what the guest already believes about you.

A minimalist salad concept selling loud, novelty shirts confuses the message. A scrappy, local sandwich shop selling overdesigned, corporate-feeling merch erodes trust. The best-performing items feel like they couldn’t exist anywhere else. That specificity is what drives the purchase.

Quality matters here, too, and not just philosophically. Cheap merch has hidden costs. Returns, complaints, and the slow bleed of brand equity. A shirt that survives years of wear is still advertising long after the food sale is forgotten. From a revenue standpoint, that’s extraordinary value.

Operationally, merch offers something restaurants desperately need: insulation. It diversifies income without introducing volatile new systems. Inventory is predictable. Labor impact is minimal. Pricing is flexible. When food costs spike or traffic softens, merch becomes a stabilizer rather than a gamble.

The operators who win with merch don’t ask, “What can we sell?” They ask, “What are we already known for—and how can we monetize that without betraying it?” That mindset keeps the offering focused and the returns real.

In an industry where most profits are eaten up before they ever hit the bank, additional revenue streams aren’t optional—they’re survival tools. Merchandise, when rooted in concept and built off existing strengths, is one of the few that doesn’t ask you to be something you’re not.

It simply asks you to let your guests take a little more of you home—and to pay you fairly for the privilege.

Are you looking for an additional revenue stream? If you are but cannot find one, we can help!

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