A restaurant in my neighborhood recently closed its doors.

The food? Fantastic.

The service? Impeccable.

The vibe? On point.

And yet, something always felt… off.

Here’s why:

Dinner was a fine-dining affair—$100 per person, easy.

Lunch? Completely different—$15 sandwiches and salads. Casual and simple.

Brunch? Every now and then they'd offer it on the weekends, but not all the time.

Oh and they also had a huge bar! Many people only came for the bar.

It was as if they couldn’t decide who they wanted to be.

An identity crisis of sorts.

Despite delivering a "great" experience, it was clear they lacked focus.

They tried to cater to everyone—fine diners, casual lunch-goers, brunch enthusiasts, and bar patrons.

And I can guarantee you: any of these offerings could've been wildly successful on their own.

But when they got mashed together into one space, it created a world of confusion.

And now they’re gone.

Here's the thing:

Just because you can sell something to someone doesn't mean you should.

By trying to be everything to everyone, you become indispensable to no one.