Bart Buyse

The through-line

Everything Bart Buyse says circles back to one trait he considers non-negotiable in an entrepreneur: the ability to take the hit and stand up smiling. "Ondernemerschap is vallen en opstaan, is de beste rollercoaster die je kan meemaken, en je hebt mega goede bounce back ability nodig om te kunnen ondernemen" [2]. He frames it in boxing terms, "Als echte boksers liggen we tamelijk veel op het canvas, maar het mooie eraan is: we kunnen altijd weer opstaan met een big smile" [4], and in Darwinian ones, a survival-of-the-fittest logic of adapting fast to changing circumstances [2]. Around that sits a second conviction: that ambition itself is the scarce resource in Belgium, and that being declared mad by everyone is a reliable signal you are onto something. "Iedereen verklaarde mij en ons zot, maar oké, dan weet ik dat ik goed zit" [3].

The one visible shift is in how publicly he runs that philosophy. For years the method was radical openness: publishing company figures, revenue, KPIs and EBITDA on LinkedIn to build trust with future investors, on the reasoning that the numbers are legally public anyway [3]. After eight years of doing exactly that, he concludes he made two big mistakes: communicating too much about the successes, which "work as a red rag to a bull and seem to be fantastic hot leads for authorities on all levels that smell money to be easily won", and communicating too much about the failures, because "you cannot imagine how many people seem to have fun when ambitious entrepreneurs who love to take risks are going belly-up" [1]. He invokes Kafka for what a spectator would make of the entrepreneurial ballgame in Belgium [1]. The belief in transparency as an operating principle has not gone; the belief that broadcasting it is free has.

On bounce back ability and loving failure

He does not merely tolerate failure, he claims to enjoy it: "I love failure. Alles wat dat ik verkeerd doe, ik probeer er zelf van te genieten, want daar leer ik zoveel uit" [3]. The full performance is deliberate: "Ge kunt ons een mep geven, we gaan op het canvas liggen, ik ga ervan genieten van op het canvas liggen... dan met een smile recht staan en doordoen. Ik weet toch dat ik ga winnen" [3]. The instrumental version is blunter: "Er zijn heel veel setbacks, je krijgt heel veel klappen, maar als je kan met de smile terug recht staan en dan echt wel doorvechten en alles wat je geleerd hebt toe te passen, dan word je succesvol" [2].

This is also a cultural argument. He holds that Eastern European markets such as Poland have a far stronger failure culture than Western Europe, where the education system instills fear of failing, which makes embracing failure a competitive advantage rather than a consolation [3]. Inside the company the principle is made explicit: "Degene die het meest doet zal waarschijnlijk ook degene zijn die het meeste fouten maakt en dat is machtig" [2], and young managers are allowed to make as many mistakes as they want provided they demonstrably learn and do not repeat them [2]. The same reasoning applies to crises. COVID compressed roughly five years of learning curve into the crisis period by forcing solutions and faster growth [4], which is why he says "Wij zijn klaar voor de volgende crisis. Laat maar komen" and "Every crisis offers massive opportunity" [4]. Competitive shocks work identically: hearing that Costa Coffee would enter Belgium on triple-A locations pushed him off a station-shop plan and onto flagships on the Meir in Antwerp and the Lange Munt in Ghent within two months, which he calls the best decision of his life [3].

On thinking bigger than is comfortable

"Ik denk dat we in België vooral onderschatten wat dat we kunnen doen allemaal" [2]. He attributes this to a culture that teaches modesty and discourages thinking big, and credits fifteen years working abroad with showing him what people are actually capable of [2]. His personal method is to set a target he has no route to yet: "Ik leg de lat mega hoog en ik zal de bal zo ver werpen dat ik niet weet hoe ik er naartoe kom, maar ik zal mijn weg zoeken en ik zal die weg altijd vinden. Altijd" [2]. Missing such a target is acceptable in a way it never was in his previous life: "Ik had mijn doel aan 100 gezet en ik ben bij vijf uitgekomen. In de corporate wereld word ik ontslaan, echt waar, met een budget fulfillment van 5%" [2].

Inexperience is treated as an asset rather than a risk, delivered deadpan: "Als ik iets nog nooit gedaan heb, dan weet ik dat ik het heel goed kan, want ik heb nog nooit gefaald" [2]. The bold statements are made on purpose and owned as such. "Wij worden een Coffee powerhouse in Europa" [3]; "Binnen 3 jaar is Izy Coffee een National Coffee powerhouse in Duitsland. Bold statement, weet ik, maar ik heb er al een paar gemaakt" [3]. The German ambition is not abstract: twenty years at a German airline left him an enormous network there, and he wants to become Germany's national coffee bar chain [2]. He also expects to be first to 24/7 in Belgium [2]. The counterweight to all of it is that the risk sits on the other side: "Nooit is het grootste risico in ondernemerschap" [4], and success is temporary, "Succes is not owned, it's rented, and the rent is due every day" [4]. He is open that this path has a price, having been declared mad by many and lost friends over it [4], and about how much the corporate years contributed: "Ik heb die 20 jaar corporate carrière eigenlijk gebruikt als mijn perfecte voorbereiding voor mijn entrepreneurial activities" [4].

On the white space he was aiming at

The market read is the same every time he tells it. Belgians are the eighth biggest coffee drinkers in the world, yet in 2017 Belgium ranked around 43rd in Europe for coffee bars per capita, at the level of Moldova, with no national coffee bar chain at all [2]. Starbucks had roughly 20 to 25 of its 30,000 global locations in the country, and Costa and other global players were absent [2][3]. He reads an underperforming global player as an invitation: the gap it leaves is precisely where a national player can dominate locally, using the global player's own marketing playbook [4]. The second insight came from inside his old employer, where small meeting rooms at Lufthansa HQ emptied out once ground-floor coffee bars opened because employees worked in them instead, which became a core idea behind the concept [3]. Conviction arrived fast: "Iedereen zei dat het onmogelijk is en toch weet ik al na vijf dagen: dat lukt, dat lukt" [2].

Growth is framed as market creation rather than theft. He does not try to take customers from good independent specialty bars; he creates new demand segments and converts the customers of non-quality players like Panos, Starbucks and Dunkin' Donuts [2]. He also insists the business model must stay under challenge, since the main success factor today, iced coffee at 80% of summer revenue, was not in the original business plan at all [4]. The reference point he reaches for is not another coffee chain: "Ik zie eigenlijk Easy koffie als de Five Guys in de Europese koffiewereld" [4].

On the truck, the locations and opening hours

The vintage coffee truck was never the business. It was a deliberately low-cost tool to build buzz and a brand in rural West Flanders, where nobody launches food concepts, before scaling into high street shops as fast as possible [2]. Day one produced five coffees [3]. From there the location standard hardened, because margin follows location quality: Kortrijk runs at around 40% EBITDA, Ghent Groentenmarkt 30 to 35%, Mechelen 25 to 30% with 30% yearly revenue growth, which is why all sixteen new shops have to be flagship-calibre triple-A high-traffic sites [2].

Opening hours are treated as a weapon rather than a cost. Being open every day removed the classic question of whether the coffee bar is shut today, something pro cyclists called a game changer [2]. Phasing towards later hours in Ghent uncovered demand nobody was serving: the 6pm to 10pm slot now generates phenomenal revenue and Friday evening is one of the busiest moments, in a city where traditional coffee bars close at 5pm [2].

On operations, simplicity and the last 10%

Belgian labour costs are among the highest in the world, so the entire workflow is engineered around them [4]. There are no kitchens, on a KISS principle backed by the fact that 80% of revenue is coffee, which means one barista can run a shop and handle 40 to 50 coffees an hour and keeps the concept low in personnel intensity [2]. At the top end this becomes "In onze flagship stores in de grote steden gaan wij op topdagen met één barista 500 koffies per dag verkopen, en dat is benchmark in de Belgische food service" [4].

He is equally explicit about where he stops. Chasing the last 10% towards perfection eats disproportionate manpower and money, so he deliberately targets 80 to 90% solutions, which he presents as the only way to go from 22 to 38 shops in under a year [2].

On the supply chain and holding the price

A long supply chain can be entirely sustainable, he argues, as long as every link adds value and is treated with respect [2]. The practical proof is pricing: because farmers were paid a fair price from the start, IzyCoffee could absorb coffee price surges internally instead of reopening negotiations with producers [2]. Hence "Onze cappuccino kost nog altijd €4, 5 jaar geleden kost hij ook €4" [2].

On stacked financing, banks and keeping VCs out

The financing philosophy is that sources combine rather than compete, each one used as leverage for the next. A successful €1M crowd raise proves market belief to the bank, bank debt then supports the PMV subordinated loan [2]. The first domino was hard won: "Ik heb 10 banken afgelopen, ben negen keer in het begin serieus hard terug buiten geschopt geweest met mijn businessplan" [3], until a local KBC banker in Izegem who personally believed in the story pushed through a €50K horeca credit in a sector that was completely red-flagged [3]. Without that financial institution's backing, PMV would not have granted the startloan [3]. His general advice is that banks will finance horeca startups at launch if you bring a strong business plan, a solid financial plan, €50k of your own skin in the game and an innovative angle; he secured 50% bank financing for the truck before opening [4].

Venture capital is treated as a leverage question, not a funding question: "Als venture capitalists mij contacteren, arrogant lijk dat ik maar kan zijn, ik delete die mail" [3]. Deleting inbound VC outreach keeps the door shut until he needs capital on his own terms, and several of those investors came in via Crowdcube regardless [3]. He takes no salary and reinvests proceeds through subordinated shareholder loans, and the stacked structure has already let early shareholders exit with 500% gains [4].

On funding rounds as free marketing

Every raise doubles as a campaign. IzyCoffee spent €0 on marketing because each funding round generated massive PR, including VTM prime-time news and Trends, while expensive prime high-street locations with branded windows function as billboards that cost less than actual billboards [3]. After four WinWinner campaigns, few finance-interested Belgians do not know the brand, which saves an enormous marketing budget while raising capital [2].

The mechanism that makes it stick is turning lenders into ambassadors. Twenty initial win-win lenders, minimum €500 over 8 years at 1.75% interest plus a 2.5% tax credit, received unlimited free coffee on Thursdays via a status-symbol card; that group is now around 500 ambassadors acting as walking brand advocates [3], and their Thursday visits fill the shops [2].

On people, ownership and training

The first baristas were made co-directors early, so they would think entrepreneurially and be able to absorb both the upsides and the setbacks of a startup; five to six years on they are still co-directors [2]. Rather than poaching trained staff, the company built its own Barista Academy, taking people off the street to a globally recognised SCA certificate worth €1000, paid for by the company with no clawback clauses; attrition fell from 75% in the early trainings to near zero [4]. He is unsentimental about the deal on offer: long-term employment is "a thing of the past", so people are retained short and mid-term through training, education and the career opportunities that growth creates, not through expectations of lifetime loyalty [4].

On communication as the actual job

When a capital investor pulled out after works had already started on the second shop, he sent a fully transparent standard email to all ten contractors explaining he could not pay yet. Nine of the ten appreciated the openness and waited, which he sums up as everything being communication [2]. The same instinct drove publishing revenue, KPIs and EBITDA openly, which attracted appreciation and heavy engagement, around 1000 likes, and built trust with future investors [3]. What he now qualifies is the audience, not the honesty: after eight years he sees that loud success posts attract authorities that smell easy money, and that loud failure posts feed people who enjoy watching risk-takers go belly-up [1].

On exits and not calling it your baby

He argues for knowing your endpoint from day one. Having a clear exit strategy is healthy self-knowledge, he knows he will not be running coffee this way in ten years, and he refuses to call the company his baby because emotional entanglement with your business is dangerous [4]. What he does call it is a sport: "Entrepreneurship, dat is de beste sport die ik al ooit gedaan heb in mijn leven" [3]. And the whole philosophy compresses into three words: "Het zijn maar drie woordjes: do your thing" [3].

Takeaways

• Treat setbacks as training, not damage: "Ge kunt ons een mep geven, we gaan op het canvas liggen, ik ga ervan genieten van op het canvas liggen... dan met een smile recht staan en doordoen" [3], and build an explicit internal failure culture where managers may err freely as long as they learn and do not repeat [2].
• Set targets you have no route to yet, and accept the miss: hitting 5 against a target of 100 would be a firing offence in corporate life but is acceptable in a startup [2].
• Use each financing source as leverage for the next: a €1M crowd raise proves market belief to the bank, bank debt unlocks the PMV subordinated loan, and without bank backing PMV would not have granted the startloan [2][3].
• Make every raise a marketing campaign: €0 marketing spend, prime-time PR from funding rounds, and around 500 win-win lenders turned into Thursday free-coffee ambassadors [3].
• Design the operation around your cost base: no kitchens, 80% of revenue from coffee, one barista serving 40 to 50 coffees an hour and up to 500 a day in flagships [2][4].
• Stop at 80 to 90%: chasing the final 10% of perfection consumes disproportionate money and manpower and makes going from 22 to 38 shops in a year impossible [2].
• Pay the supply chain fairly and you buy pricing stability: fair farmer prices let the company absorb coffee price surges internally, keeping the cappuccino at €4 for five years [2].
• Be careful what you broadcast: after eight years of loud posting, the lesson is that success posts attract authorities "that smell money to be easily won" and failure posts entertain people who enjoy watching risk-takers fall [1].