What a humble dosa vendor taught me about building a brand

Working the late evenings, I often grab a bite at the nearby Rameshwaram Café in Madhapur, Hyderabad. It was convenient and open late, and the food was decent enough to keep me going through. But after a couple of weeks, I noticed many of the items I had strangely lacked any distinctive aroma or flavor that would make a meal memorable.

Yesterday, I decided it was time for a change. I crossed the road to a lively spot near the Audi showroom at Pillar Number 1766. There, under the streetlights, 20 or 30 food stalls buzzed with energy, each one dishing up a unique variety—from hot idlis and crispy dosas to fried rice, pav bhaji, and kebabs. The air was filled with tantalizing aromas, and the sheer choice was exhilarating.

Drawn by the crowd gathered around one particular stall, I decided to give it a try. I ordered a paneer mushroom dosa with a special request: less oil, less spicy. The dosa arrived, hot off the griddle, crisp and enticing. One bite in, and I was hooked—the flavors were vibrant, the paneer tender, and the mushrooms had just the right kick. This was more than food; it was a wake-up call to my taste buds. Satisfied and pleasantly surprised, I headed back to work, already looking forward to my next visit.

Tonight, I found myself back at the same stall, eager to sample another type of dosa. The moment I placed my order, the vendor looked up, recognized me instantly, and called out to the cook, “Less oil, less spicy,” just as I had ordered it the night before. I was taken aback. Hundreds of customers pass through his stall each night, yet he remembered my preference as if I were a regular.

Intrigued, I asked him how he remembered. He smiled modestly and said, “Sir, you came yesterday. I remember my customers.”

I was struck by the power of his simple gesture. This wasn’t just his attentive service; it was an art of making people feel valued. Here’s a humble street vendor, working long hours, yet he treated each customer like they mattered. And the food? It cost just a third of what I’d been paying at Rameshwaram Café, yet the quality, the warmth, and the personal touch made it feel priceless.

I realized that building a great brand isn’t about posh interiors, premium products or exorbitant marketing. It’s about forging genuine connections, making people feel seen and appreciated. Venkatesh—the dosa vendor who might never have heard of branding jargon, positioning, or loyalty programs—taught me a lesson that no business class could. He had won me hands down with nothing more than his genuine attention and kindness.

Thank you, Venkatesh, for reminding me that the best branding isn’t about grand gestures or flashy slogans. Sometimes, it’s simply about remembering a face and a preference—and creating a moment worth coming back for.

To anyone reading this, I’d say: explore the options around you and try out the smaller eateries. You might just stumble upon one of those serendipitous discoveries that make a lasting impact on your day—and maybe even change the way you think about great service.