Roster sorted.
Orders in.
Invoices matched.
You're on the machine at six and doing the roster at eleven at night. Supplier invoices in a drawer. A Google review you haven't seen. The back office of a café is a full-time job you do in the gaps.
Start with the one
you hate most.
Drafted from your rules and availability, gaps filled, distributed. You approve the overtime. The group text stays peaceful.
→ Ops chief of staffStanding orders watched, top-ups drafted, the produce guy chased when he's late. You tap yes on anything with a dollar sign.
→ Supplier chaserSupplier invoices matched to deliveries and to what you actually sold. Surfaces the leak before your accountant does.
→ Job-cost reconciler- Reviews answered in your voice. You tweak the personal ones
- Function and catering enquiries qualified and quoted from your menu
- Compliance chased: food safety, licences, inductions
- Weekend digest on Monday morning: what sold, who was short, what's due
Every seat has a name, a mailbox and a job list. Your customers talk to it by name. All twenty seats →
Your Tuesday,
with staff.
5:40
You open. The roster for next week landed last night. Two swaps handled.
9:30
Produce is late. He's already been chased. ETA 10:15. You didn't ring.
2:00
Three supplier invoices matched to deliveries. One doesn't match. It's flagged. You'll take that one up.
4:30
A function enquiry for forty came in at 1pm. Quoted from your menu at 1:20. You tap yes. Booked.
One job.
Cafés start with one seat (usually the roster, because it's the one that eats the night) then add the supplier seat when the drawer of invoices gets embarrassing.
Price in writing after a 20-minute meeting. One job starts smaller. If you don't need us yet, we'll say so.