Senior year of college. I'm serving tables at Lucky 32 in Winston-Salem, tracking every dollar in a spreadsheet. Always had a thing for numbers.
Everyone wanted Friday and Saturday nights. More orders, more drinks, better tips. Made sense, right?
Except the spreadsheet told a different story.
Sunday brunch was the most profitable shift of the week, not in total tips but in dollars per hour.
The math was simple once I saw it:
Friday nights meant hours of sidework before and after service. Fold napkins. Refill condiments. Clean until midnight. You'd make $150 but work 7 hours.
Sunday brunch? The Saturday crew had already done the prep. You'd walk in, get 5-7 tables (not 4), and leave when the shift ended. $90 in 3.5 hours.
Everyone else was solving for "biggest tips." I was solving for "best hourly rate."
They traded me their Sunday shifts eagerly because they assumed no alcohol meant worse tips.
Most teams start with solutions. Customer asks for a feature, we build it. Competitor launches a feature, we match it.
But lately nobody's asking: What problem are we actually solving? For whom, specifically? How do we know it's the right one?
The Sunday brunch shift wasn't better because I worked harder. It was better because I questioned what "better" meant in the first place.
The most expensive feature you'll ever build is the one that solves a problem nobody has.