Your business can do everything right in a small town and still be forced to close the doors.

Every small rural town has at least one. The shop front that has changed hands three times in five years. Or the cafe that opened to a packed house and a Facebook post full of support, then closed twelve months later to a post packed with comments. 

Every time, the same things are said: “Such a shame, we really needed that!”, or “I’m going to miss your store!”.

We did need it, we just didn’t buy enough from it. 

I’ve spent my whole life in regional WA. I’ve watched countless businesses - people who did every single thing they were told to do - pack up and leave. So many cafes, the newsagency, clothes stores, a games arcade, just to name a few. They didn’t leave because they were bad at business, but because the town that said it wanted them hadn’t worked out what wanting them actually costs. 

Doing it right is not the same as being backed.

“Doing it right” looks different in a rural town. You open when people need you to open, not when it suits you. You stock what the people asks for, even if it sits on the shelf for months before it gets purchased. You price fairly, even when you know that your freight bill is double what someone in the city pays. 

You sponsor the footy club, and the hockey club, and the netball club too. You donate to the raffle, and the local event as well. You sit on at least two committees and keep your facebook page updated in between serving customers, because if you don’t you’ll get comments like “are you still open?” 

And sometimes, it still just is not enough. In a town of a few hundred people, maybe even a couple of thousand, there is no market buffer. Lose ten regular customers to online orders, or a fortnightly trip to the city, or a big store starts delivering to town, that is not a quiet month, that is your margin gone. 

“Support local” is a bumper sticker, not a behaviour.

You hear it constantly, “support local”, “shop local”, “keep your money local.” Then we drive two hours to save twenty dollars on something the business down the road sells. We ask the locals for mates rates, we get three quotes and use the city one to grind the local one down. 

And then, when something breaks down mid-harvest, or it’s a Sunday afternoon, or the city supplier can’t get there for a fortnight, that is when we remember the local business exists. 

That is not support. That is treating a local business like an insurance policy. You expect it to be there when you need it, without ever paying the premium. 

The generosity tax.

The same handful of businesses get asked for everything - every club, every fundraiser, a small donation here, money to the local quiz night there. Most say yes, because saying no in a small town has a cost too. No one in the community is adding up the figures, but the business owner is. 

And the shires and organisations that talk the loudest about economic development often buy from outside town because it came in a couple of dollars cheaper. If they’re not going to spend their money in town, why would anyone else?

And then when a business closes, we blame the owner.

It was the wrong location or they didn’t market enough, they weren’t open at the right hours or they didn’t sell the right thing. Sometimes, that might be true, but sometimes the business was right, the owner was capable, and the community just did not show up. 

That is a community failure, and the owner carries it anyway - the debt, the lease, and still having to see everyone at the local IGA.

Wanting it is not the same as keeping it. 

Support is not complicated, it is just less convenient. Spend before you need them, pay on time, stop asking for discounts, give them a genuine chance to quote. 
A business cannot survive on goodwill and a ribbon cutting. It survives on a Tuesday, on ordinary purchases being made by people who live five minutes away.

If we want the business, we have to be the customers. Otherwise we are not losing them, we are letting them go.