Most software for restaurants is really software for restaurant groups — built so somebody in an office can see restaurants they are never standing in. You are standing in yours. So Syphor does the opposite job: it holds the fourteen months you cannot, and reads the competition you cannot be on while you are working.
You know what a good one feels like by half past seven, and you knew last night was soft before you cashed out.
Who is quick on a section, who talks to tables, who you would put on a twelve-top and who you would not.
By name, by drink, and by which of them stopped coming in about a month ago.
You have been standing in it. Nothing on a screen is going to tell you something you watched happen.
These are not failures of attention. They are things a person standing in a restaurant physically cannot do, and they are the only three things Syphor is actually for.
Your chicken went up eleven percent across four invoices in six weeks. Your average check slid $2.40 the month after the new menu. Your Tuesday lunch has been quietly shrinking since March. None of it looked wrong on the day it happened, and none of it is visible from the floor.
It rained. There was a game on. The place two streets away dropped their prices, put on a Thursday special and started answering their reviews. You cannot be in your restaurant and watching your competitors at the same time — and one of those explains most of your odd nights.
What did you do the last four times it poured on a Friday? Was last August actually better, or does it just feel that way? You have the receipts. Nobody has the time to line them up — and the answer is worth money every time it comes up.
Same as always. It felt like a decent night.
The prices, the reviews and the moves at the places nearest you.
Yesterday’s and today’s, matched to your own history of wet nights.
Not to a benchmark, not to the industry. To your own last fourteen months, with the weather taken out.
What happened, what was unusual, what it cost, and the one thing worth doing today. Read it with your coffee in ninety seconds.
A billiards hall is three businesses in one room — the tables, the bar and the kitchen — and one register lumps them together. The weather runs the door, everybody knows it, and nobody had ever measured it.
Syphor found that rain is worth seventeen percent. When it pours, people come in and play, so the wet forecast now staffs the rail instead of excusing the night.
It also found that table time is the number one seller — ahead of every dish and every draft — which changed how the place is priced and promoted. And the night the tables ran 167% over their normal, the owner read it at seven the next morning instead of noticing at month end.
There is no smaller version for smaller restaurants. No starter tier that stops working when you need it, no features held back until you open a second restaurant. You get the identical product a twenty-site group gets.
That is deliberate. The reason a single-restaurant owner needs the memory and the competition is exactly the same reason a group does — and charging you less by giving you less would take away the parts that make it worth having.
Your chef, your bookkeeper and whoever runs your Saturdays can all have it. Nobody is charged per person, ever.
There is not enough history yet for “compared to your own normal” to mean anything. Come back at six months and it will be worth ten times as much.
If your point of sale does not keep the detail, there is nothing for Syphor to read. We would rather tell you on the phone than take a month of your money finding out.
It is not an accountant and it files nothing. It tells you where the money went; somebody still has to do the books.
What did we do the last four times it rained on a Friday? Is my chicken more expensive than it was in June? Did the new menu help? Twenty minutes, on the demonstration restaurant, and we will answer it while you watch — or tell you honestly that you do not need us yet.
Or call — a person answers: 1 888 593 3881