I have two words for businessmen in the New Year: customer service.
When businessmen come to me in 2026 to complain about the economy, that will be
my rejoinder. First audit your customer service before you complain about the
economy. If you have better than good customer service, then — and only then —
you may complain about the economy.
The festive season, of all times, should be the easiest period to make
money. Spirits are high, wallets are open, and customers are arriving already
half-convinced to spend. Yet this past season I watched, with reckless abandon,
businesses actively turn away people who had shown up ready to part with
hard-earned cash.
In one instance, we went for a brunch advertised for 11am. Service
eventually began at 5pm. Someone joked that perhaps we had read the invite
wrongly, they meant service would begin
at sawa ekumi n’emu (5pm). We laughed, because humour is how Ugandans
survive absurdity. But beneath the joke sat a serious truth: a business had
summoned customers and then treated their time as worthless.
In another place, the waitress got the orders wrong. The kitchen clearly
could not be bothered. When we finally asked for the bill, the cash desk said
the printer wasn’t working. No apology. No urgency. No attempt to close the loop.
It was as if concluding the transaction — the very purpose of the enterprise,
was an inconvenience.
Then there was the petrol station. The pump attendant sat scrolling through
TikTok while customers drove in, parked, waited, and drove off confused. Only
after inquiry did we discover they had run out of fuel. No sign. No
announcement. No courtesy. We were expected to work it out for ourselves.
These were not random mid-January lapses. They happened during the festive
season the very month businesses later
cite as proof that “the economy is bad.” Too many customers, we are told. That
argument collapses on contact with reality. Too many customers is not a
problem. It is the job.
"So how exactly do you complain about a bad economy when you are actively turning clients away?
The uncomfortable truth most businesses avoid is that customer service is
not a soft skill. It is hard currency. It converts foot traffic into revenue,
revenue into repeat business, and repeat business into resilience when
conditions tighten. Ignore it, and no interest-rate cut, election cycle or
macro-recovery will save you.
Customer service begins with awareness. Be clear that you are open. Be clear
about what you have. Be clear about what you don’t. If service starts at 11am,
it must start at 11am, not when the kitchen finally warms up. If you have run
out of fuel, food or a key ingredient, say so clearly and early. Customers can
forgive scarcity; they rarely forgive indifference.
Next is responsiveness. Questions must be answered promptly. Orders must be
confirmed and delivered as promised. Silence, shrugs and the infamous “just
wait” are not neutral acts — they actively destroy trust. In crowded markets,
customers don’t punish poor service with complaints. They punish it with
absence.
Then there is proactive selling, a skill too many frontline staff seem never
to have been taught. A customer who has walked into your premises has already
crossed the hardest barrier: intent. Why then take the bare minimum order and
retreat? Why not tell them what else is available? The better option. The
add-on. The promotion. Selling is not harassment; it is guidance. Most
customers appreciate being shown value.
Cleanliness and hygiene, too, are not extras. They are silent salespeople. A
clean floor, a tidy counter, a decent restroom send a clear message: you are
welcome here. Disorder sends the opposite signal, that you should eat quickly,
pay quickly, and not return.
And yes, smiles matter. Frontline staff should not be allowed to work
without one. This is not about artificial cheerfulness; it is about basic
acknowledgement. A smile says, “I see you.” Without it, every interaction feels
transactional at best and hostile at worst.
Business owners will argue that staff are tired, underpaid and stressed. Fair
enough. But leadership exists precisely to design systems that protect service
standards even under strain. Train your people. Rotate shifts. Reward
excellence. Make customer care measurable, not optional.
Because the reality is this: many businesses are not victims of the economy; they are accomplices to their own struggles. They leak goodwill in December, then blame inflation in January. They squander festive traffic, then complain about footfall in February.
And if anyone still doubts that customer service pays, look no further than Cafe
Javas. Only last week, Café Javas opened its ninth branch in Kenya — a
four-storey operation in the upscale Nairobi suburb of Lavington. Should we be
surprised?
Café Javas — or CJs, as regulars now call it has quietly become the gold standard of
responsive, proactive and consistently cheerful service in Uganda (A classic
case of measuring oneself against pygmies). Seating space at their branches is
almost always at a premium, not because Kampala or Nairobi lack alternatives,
but because customers know exactly what they are going to get: prompt
attention, clean spaces, smiling staff and kitchens that respect orders.
What genuinely shocked me was learning, on inquiry, that about 60
percent of the revenues at the Kisementi branch come from delivery.
Think about that. Most customers do not even need to come to you to buy from
you. That is the purest proof of repeat business — trust so embedded that
inspection becomes unnecessary. People order because experience, not hope,
guarantees satisfaction.
That is what good customer service compounds into: loyalty, habit and effortless revenue. It converts festive crowds into year-round cash flow. It insulates a business from economic noise because customers keep coming — even when wallets tighten to places that treat them well.
So in 2026, before complaining about the economy, first audit your customer
service. If you pass that test, then we can talk macroeconomics. Until then,
the economy is not your problem.
Customer service is.
