The Emotional and Financial Journey of Hawkers After Shutting Down Their Stalls
Twelve years ago, when my parents first ventured into the F&B industry and opened their Penang restaurant along Thomson Road, the excitement in our family was palpable. We gathered around the old desktop computer, debating everything from the design of the signboard to the color of the background. As kids, my brothers and I were tasked with handing out flyers at the nearby MRT station, hoping to draw in customers for our char kway teow, prawn noodles, and assam laksa.
The restaurant quickly became a second home to us. While I kept to my introverted self, helping with the cutlery and entering orders into the cash register, my younger brother befriended the chefs and learned to fry up some char kway teow himself. My elder brother, however, wasn’t keen on participating in the day-to-day operations.
The restaurant became a success within our small circle, generating word-of-mouth recommendations and even securing features in publications like 8 Days and food blogs. We built up a loyal customer base, many of whom my parents befriended over time. But, two years later, when the property we were renting was sold for en bloc development, we had to shut our doors. The capital to relocate was simply unavailable. There wasn’t much of a goodbye, but it left us with a sense of unfinished business.
The experience wasn’t entirely negative, though. For my parents, it was probably a well-deserved break after two years of hard work. Even now, I pass the spot where our restaurant once stood and often wonder what could have been. While our closure may have gone unnoticed by the public, it was not an isolated incident. Many F&B establishments face the same fate, their stories unheralded but equally challenging. From December 2019 to June 2021, 3,440 F&B businesses in Singapore closed, but 5,620 new ones emerged in the same period. How many of them are still around today remains unclear.
Some closures do grab attention, especially the iconic ones like Tiong Bahru Yi Sheng Hokkien Mee or Tian Tian Porridge, but others, like our family’s, often fade into obscurity. F&B enthusiasts often keep an eye on these closures through online groups like Can Eat! Hawker Food and Hawkers United – Dabao 2020, where news of a stall’s closure spreads quickly—often before the official announcements are made.
The typical pattern goes like this: loyal customers tease the closure of a beloved stall, nostalgic patrons flood the comments section, and long lines form to get a final taste of the food before the doors close. It’s a cycle of emotions—one last rush before the inevitable end. Some places, like Golden Mile Complex, go out with a bang, but for others, the end is quieter. Like my family’s restaurant, we didn’t announce our closure until after the fact on our now-defunct Facebook page.
A second attempt at the F&B business came with a dessert stall in Little India. This time, the motivation was practical: my father’s health had taken a turn, and we had to find another income source. My younger brother and mother started the stall, offering Penang-style cendol, but the profit margins in desserts were small, and we lacked the capacity to expand into cooked food. Despite our best efforts, the stall struggled, and after less than two years, my brother decided to close it and seek a more stable full-time job.
Despite this, my brother has not ruled out a future in F&B. He’s still passionate about Penang cuisine and is currently working on a new venture, a Japanese-style sandwich business called Wild Crumbs, set to open soon. This new business will be more manageable, with a focus on breakfast and lunch for office workers, leaving evenings free for his family. While he’s learned from the difficulties of the past, he remains optimistic and eager to give the F&B world another try.
Jason Chua, who ran the now-defunct fusion restaurant Beng Who Cooks, shares a similar story. After starting his business in 2018, Jason faced significant challenges—rising rents, fluctuating dine-in restrictions, and decreased foot traffic after a nearby company moved. Ultimately, when his landlord raised the rent by $5,000, Jason had no choice but to shut down the restaurant in 2022.
For Jason, the closure came at a difficult but necessary time. As a new father, he was overworked and burnt out from running the restaurant alone. The stresses of running a business had taken a toll on his health and family life. However, after taking some time off, Jason has focused on improving his mental health, and he’s learned to slow down and work more sustainably.
Though he’s still in recovery mode, Jason is already planning his next business venture, which he feels is a more balanced and realistic opportunity. Despite the hardships, he’s ready to dive back into the F&B industry—because once you’ve been bitten by the F&B bug, it’s hard to stay away.
My family’s experiences and Jason’s journey are a reflection of the reality that many F&B operators face: it’s a hard and often unforgiving industry. Passion and hard work don’t always translate into success, and many stalls close their doors after only a few years. It’s not just about the food—it’s about navigating the unpredictable nature of the industry. And yet, even after two failed businesses, my brother and I still find ourselves thinking about the F&B world. It’s a challenging, but strangely magnetic industry, and as Jason says, sometimes when a business closes, it’s not about failure—it’s about finding a better opportunity.
For those still in the game, F&B remains a rollercoaster ride, one that requires resilience and adaptability. It’s not an industry for everyone, but for those who love food and are ready for the challenges, it’s a ride worth taking.
