Is This Working?

By B.J. Lofback. B.J. is the founder of Food Truck Guru and a Nashville food truck operator since 2011. He launched Riffs Fine Street Food and Funk Seoul Brother, co-founded Pinchy's Lobster & Raw Bar, which grew from a truck into three restaurants, and served as founding president of the Nashville Food Truck Association. His trucks have been named to The Daily Meal's 101 Best Food Trucks in America five times.

Here's an interesting question that I don't think enough food truck owners ask themselves.

Is this actually working?

Over the years, I've watched countless food truck operators become increasingly frustrated with the results of their businesses. The hours are long, the money isn't what they expected, and the dream of being their own boss is starting to feel suspiciously like working for a boss who doesn't pay very well.

But what's fascinating to me isn't necessarily the frustration. It's where they direct it.

They blame the event. The customers. The weather. The organizer. The fees. The location. Sometimes they'll even blame the other food trucks they're parked next to. I've heard just about every explanation imaginable for why a particular day, week, or entire season didn't work out.

And while some of those complaints might be completely legitimate, there's one possibility that many operators seem determined to avoid considering.

The one that is probably the most uncomfortable, but also the one most likely to determine whether their business ultimately succeeds or fails.

SOMETIMES, IT'S YOU.

There. I said it.

When the profits aren't what you hoped, when you're working twice the hours you expected for half the money you imagined, when seemingly every location is disappointing and every event organizer is somehow getting the better end of the deal, there's one common denominator worth examining.

You.

I hear it all the time. A truck works a location that other operators frequent and afterward the owner declares, "Man, that location sucks."

Or my personal favorite: "Can you believe what they charge us to be here?"

Okay. Maybe the location really does suck. Maybe the fee is ridiculous. Maybe the organizer promised 5,000 people and delivered 500, including the vendors.

Those things happen.

But here's where the thinking gets flawed.

If hundreds or thousands of people are walking past your truck and they're choosing to spend their money somewhere else, perhaps the most valuable question isn't what's wrong with the event.

It's why those people aren't choosing you.

Are you selling something they actually want? Does your truck make them curious? Can they understand your menu in five seconds? Does your food look like something worth waiting in line for? Are your prices appropriate for the audience? Can you serve people quickly enough to make the economics work?

Or are you simply sitting there waiting for the world to recognize how wonderful your concept is?

Because I've got news for you. The world doesn't owe you a line of customers just because you bought a truck and showed up.

There are dozens of factors you can influence that directly affect how much money your business makes. Yet too often, operators expend far more energy complaining about the things they can't control than improving the things they can.

And sometimes those problems began long before the truck ever served its first customer.

THE FATAL FLAWS START EARLY

There's an old expression about trying to fit a square peg into a round hole. I've seen more than a few food truck businesses built around that very idea.

Sometimes the thing that inspired you to start your business simply isn't something enough other people are willing to pay for.

I've met operators absolutely beaming with pride over menus built around their grandmother's recipes. Generations of family tradition, holiday memories, and plenty of love poured into dishes they're convinced the world is just waiting to discover.

I've seen the umpteenth BBQ truck open with a bright-eyed owner telling me how everybody has always said they should open a restaurant because their barbecue is just that good.

And I've seen people with virtually no professional cooking or business experience notice the long lines at a festival and decide they've stumbled onto the ultimate "money for nothing and chicks for free" opportunity.

Then reality kicks in.

Those cherished family recipes? Maybe they don't translate particularly well to someone standing on a sidewalk deciding what to eat for lunch.

That incredible backyard barbecue? Turns out when your friends told you that you should open a restaurant, they were giving you a compliment, not delivering a professional market feasibility study.

And that guy who thought a food truck was a license to print money? He's discovering that buying products at Costco, heating them up, and selling them through a window isn't quite the revolutionary business model he'd imagined.

Here's the problem.

Loving your idea and having a market for your idea are two entirely different things.

Far too many entrepreneurs confuse personal enthusiasm with market demand.

They convince themselves that because their friends love their food, strangers will too. Because another truck sells a thousand meals at a festival, theirs will do the same. Because burgers, tacos, and barbecue are popular, there's always room for one more.

Maybe there is. But what makes yours worth choosing?

Where's the differentiation? Where's the research? Where's the evidence that the customers you need actually exist in the places you intend to serve?

And perhaps most importantly, where's the business model that proves you can make money serving them?

Often, the excitement of entrepreneurship completely overwhelms these considerations. New operators imagine an endless supply of parking lots, festivals, breweries, and corporate lunches just waiting for them to arrive.

They haven't considered that the best locations may already have relationships with established vendors. Or that the most desirable festivals are competitive, expensive, and sometimes booked months in advance.

They've fallen in love with the idea of owning a food truck before fully understanding the business of operating one.

And that's an expensive order in which to learn those lessons.

SURVIVAL OF THE FITTEST

One of the most baffling things I see in this industry is how reluctant some operators are to change the very things that might save their businesses.

It's an extraordinarily rare business that opens its doors with a perfect concept, perfect pricing, perfect branding, and a perfect understanding of its customers.

Successful businesses evolve.

They listen. They observe. They experiment. They recognize what's working and, more importantly, what isn't.

Food trucks should be exceptionally good at this. Their relative mobility, smaller menus, and ability to test different markets should make them some of the most adaptable businesses in the restaurant industry.

Yet some owners approach their original concept as though it were carved into stone tablets.

Let's start with the truck itself.

Most new entrepreneurs don't have unlimited capital. So they begin shopping for the bones of their operation.

At first, they're dreaming of a beautiful truck with low mileage, spotless equipment, a gorgeous wrap, and every bell and whistle imaginable.

Then reality introduces them to the price tag.

Suddenly, their champagne-and-caviar vision is staring down a Busch Light and frozen pizza budget.

So they compromise. Maybe a little. Maybe a lot.

Nothing wrong with that. Plenty of successful food truck businesses began with humble equipment and a whole lot of ambition.

But there's a significant difference between a truck with character and a rolling piece of junk.

Now imagine the first big event. You pull in with your tired old truck, faded graphics, and a menu that looks like somebody made it in Microsoft Word in 2006.

You park beside a beautifully branded operation with great lighting, compelling food photography, a sharp menu, and a line stretching halfway down the block.

And what are you thinking?

"Can you believe people are paying THAT MUCH for their food?"

Maybe a better question would be: "What are they doing that I'm not?"

Because the customer isn't shopping for the sacrifice you made to get your business started. They aren't rewarding your determination, your family history, or the number of hours you worked getting ready for the event.

They're making a purchasing decision based on what appeals to them at that moment.

Your job is to give them a compelling reason to choose you.

And that doesn't necessarily mean spending $150,000 on a shiny new truck. It means recognizing that presentation, perception, clarity, and professionalism all have value.

Sometimes enormous value.

Then there are the operators who've been in business for a while.

They've survived the initial excitement. They've experienced a few big festivals where the register rang all day and they finally saw what this business could be.

But those occasional big paydays are increasingly being used to subsidize all the miserable afternoons sitting in parking lots wondering why nobody is coming.

They post their location on social media. Three hundred followers see it, perhaps a dozen engage, and half of those are relatives.

They try another parking lot. Another brewery. Another event. Another special.

And when the results don't improve, the same frustrations return.

At some point, you have to recognize that doing the same thing in a different parking lot isn't necessarily a business strategy.

It's just changing the scenery.

YOUR NUMBERS ARE TRYING TO TELL YOU SOMETHING

This is where I think the conversation needs to become much more serious.

A food truck isn't a hobby with a cash register. It's a business, and the numbers don't care how much you love your recipes.

Let's say you attend an event with 2,000 people. Your truck generates $800 in sales, while another operator walks away with $3,000.

You can blame your placement. You can complain about the weather. You can argue that their food has broader appeal.

But somewhere in that difference is information you need to understand.

Maybe their product is more appealing to that audience. Maybe their menu is easier to understand. Maybe their average ticket is higher, their service is faster, or their branding creates a stronger first impression.

Maybe their concept is simply better suited to that market.

That's not an insult. That's market feedback.

And sometimes the lesson isn't that you need to sell more food. Sometimes it's that you need to fundamentally rethink what you're selling, what it costs you to sell it, and where you're trying to sell it.

An operator who generates $1,500 in sales but spends $500 on an event fee, $525 on food and disposables, $300 on labor, and another $100 on fuel and miscellaneous operating expenses isn't exactly enjoying a financial windfall.

That's $75 left before accounting for insurance, maintenance, truck payments, licensing, and the countless other expenses involved in keeping the business alive.

Congratulations. You worked all day for the privilege of owning a food truck.

These are the calculations that should be driving your decisions, not simply whether an event sounds busy or whether you've heard other vendors make money there.

And if your business consistently requires exceptionally favorable circumstances just to break even, maybe the circumstances aren't the real problem.

Maybe the model is.

THE DIFFERENCE BETWEEN BEING STUBBORN AND BEING SUCCESSFUL

There's something admirable about entrepreneurs who believe in themselves. You need a certain amount of stubbornness to take the financial and personal risks involved in starting any business.

But stubbornness and conviction aren't the same thing as refusing to acknowledge reality.

You can be passionate about barbecue and still recognize that your market doesn't need another traditional barbecue truck.

You can love your grandmother's cooking and acknowledge that some of those dishes aren't well suited to a high-volume street food operation.

You can believe wholeheartedly in your concept while accepting that your menu, branding, pricing, service model, or target audience needs to change.

Adapting isn't abandoning your vision. It's giving that vision a better chance to succeed.

Maybe the answer is simplifying your menu to focus on the three items that sell consistently and profitably.

Maybe it's redesigning your truck's appearance, rewriting your menu descriptions, or developing one signature product that gives people something to talk about.

Maybe it's abandoning low-volume parking lot service and concentrating on catering, corporate events, or private bookings.

And yes, maybe it's recognizing that the entire concept needs to be reconsidered.

That's a difficult realization, particularly when your business has become part of your identity.

But what would you rather protect? Your original idea or your ability to make a living?

SO, IS THIS WORKING?

Here's what I'd encourage every food truck owner to do.

Stop evaluating your business based on how hard you're working.

Stop measuring success by how many people tell you your food is delicious.

Stop allowing one spectacular Saturday to convince you that the other twenty disappointing days were simply bad luck.

Instead, look at your business as though you were considering investing your own money in someone else's operation.

Would you invest?

Would the menu excite you? Would the branding capture your attention? Would the financial performance make sense? Does the business have a clear audience, a competitive advantage, and a realistic path to sustained profitability?

Or would you look at the numbers, listen to the excuses, and politely decline?

That's the uncomfortable exercise too many owners avoid.

Because sometimes the most important change isn't a better location, a new event organizer, a larger social media following, or even a better truck.

It's a change in the way the owner thinks.

The food truck industry is filled with opportunity, but opportunity doesn't guarantee success. The ability to recognize what customers want, deliver it profitably, and adapt when the market tells you something isn't working is what separates businesses that thrive from those that merely survive.

And here's the beautiful thing: Unlike the weather, the event organizer, the competition, or the number of people who happen to walk past your truck on any given Tuesday, your decisions are something you can actually control.

That's not bad news.

That's where the opportunity begins.

So the next time you finish a disappointing shift and find yourself explaining all the reasons why the day was a disaster, ask yourself a different question.

Not "Why didn't those people buy my food?"

But "What could I have done to make them want to?"

Because the day you stop looking for someone to blame might just be the day you finally start building the business you thought you were buying in the first place.

FAQ

Why is my food truck not making money?

Most food trucks that struggle have a problem the owner can control: a concept the market doesn't want, a menu people can't understand quickly, weak branding, slow service, or pricing that doesn't fit the audience. Before blaming the event or the location, compare your results to the trucks that did well in the same spot and ask what they're doing differently.

How much profit should a food truck make per event?

It depends on the event, but the math has to work after every cost. A truck that sells $1,500 and spends $500 on the event fee, $525 on food and disposables, $300 on labor, and $100 on fuel has $75 left before insurance, maintenance, truck payments, and licensing. If you consistently need a perfect day just to break even, the model is the problem, not the day.

How do I know if my food truck concept is a bad idea?

Loving your idea and having a market for it are two different things. Warning signs include a menu built on family recipes that don't translate to street food, a category your market already has plenty of (another BBQ truck, another burger truck), no clear differentiation, and no evidence that the customers you need exist where you plan to serve.

What should I do if a food truck event is slow?

Treat it as market feedback. If thousands of people walked past and didn't buy, ask why they didn't choose you. Look at your menu clarity, food presentation, pricing, service speed, and whether your truck makes people curious. Changing locations without changing anything else just changes the scenery.

Should I simplify my food truck menu?

Usually, yes. Most successful trucks focus on a few items that sell consistently and profitably. A smaller menu is faster to serve, easier for customers to understand in five seconds, and cheaper to run. If three items make most of your money, build the business around those three.

How do I evaluate whether my food truck business is working?

Look at it as if you were investing your own money in someone else's truck. Would the menu excite you? Would the branding grab your attention? Do the numbers make sense? Is there a clear audience and a competitive advantage? If you'd politely decline to invest, that's your answer, and it's one you can act on.