Entrepreneur succeeds in rockhouse gamble
LAURO Tinio photo by Amadís Ma. Guerrero, Contributor
Not too long ago, in a big lot beside Edsa Central, there was a crowded community with small stores and nondescript eateries, among them Jepoy’s Grill, where my social drinking friends would go to for a meal, pulutan (bar chow), and a decorous beer or two.
The place was owned by Lauro M. Tinio, an engineer by training and an entrepreneur by inclination, who hails from Nueva Ecija.
The Chinese-Filipino cuisine was quite good and affordable, served cafeteria turo-turo style. Vendors would offer their wares, cats would shashay around and demand food from the customers, and neighborhood children would be running to and fro.
“Only at Jepoy’s,” I would tell my friends.
Then the boom was lowered. The owners decided that everyone must go, whether stall owners or squatter residents (informal settlers, please). Electricity was cut off, demlolition crews did their job, and Tinio was forced to scout around for a new location.
Luckily, he found one nearby, right in front of McDonald’s and Teleperformance. It was a 500-square-meter vacant lot for which he obtained a five-year renewable lease at P50,000 per month. That was in November last year.
Soon, Tinio and his crew, including loyal staff, began to develop the property.
“We started with 10 tables, and the kitchen and the food counter area,” he recalls. Then more tables were brought in. A roof with pyramid-shaped cones was constructed, while retaining the openness of the area. Plants, hanging flowers and banderitas gave the grillhouse a festive ambience.
In April this year, the reinvented Jepoy’s Grill had a “soft opening,” but things did not turn out as expected. Business was sluggish. Some people came in for lunch, with more in the evening to dine, drink and converse loudly while listening to the piped-in music.
“But in the first three months nalugi kami [operated at a loss],” Tinio says. “Business is like that. I guess you just have to cope.”
Then he got the bright idea of bringing in folk singers and rock bands, told friends to spread the word around, and started to hold auditions.
Groups which met his approval were hired, and soon folk and rock music began to blare out from the place. First, every Friday. Then Wednesdays and Fridays. Then three times a week. And finally, the bands played every night. And the customers came in, and filled the place by 9 p.m.
The groups of drinkers and diners range from small to big. They are mostly young – from the call centers (there are three of them nearby), from the malls and fast-food chains, from offices and department stores – which have closed down for the night.
You may even spot some Manny Pacquiao wannabes, for there is an Elorde gym a few steps away. In fact, the tarpaulin backdrop of the slightly elevated stage features Pacquaio as diver (and he is with a diving buddy).
Business was obviously improved. “We have started to break even,” modestly observes Tinio. “We pay the rent maayos, we pay the salaries of the employees maayos.”
And people still pass through, since this is an open area and there is a busy street at the back. Children may scamper near you and vendors ply their trade, offering you peanuts and chicharon. Cats may pause by your table, demanding crumbs from your repast.
