“Like what?” Jo asked.
“A founding supporter mug. A limited-edition design or color that you’ll never produce again. Once the campaign closes, it’s gone. People collect things like that.”
“I love that,” Junie said, making a note.
“What else do you have that’s uniquely yours?” Maileah asked. “Not the coffee. Something from the diner itself.”
Jo thought for a moment. “My herb salt blend. Rosemary, oregano, garlic, sea salt, and pepper. And chili pepper, I almost forgot—that’s the mystery ingredient. It’s what I use on the sweet potato fries.”
Junie nodded. “People would want that.”
“I can put it in small jars with a Cuppa Jo’s label,” Jo said. “That’s another specialty item I could sell.”
“Add it to a mid-tier bundle,” Rocky said, jotting on his spreadsheet. “Here’s a note about Jo’s Crown Island Morning box. What’s in that, Jo?”
“A bag each of the Sumatra and Queen’s Blend coffees, a branded dish towel and apron set, and all the rest up to that point, plus the egg croissant and green smoothie recipes. It’s breakfast at my counter.”
Rocky frowned. “Should you be giving away your recipes?”
“If they’re local customers, they come for the experience,” Jo replied. “They don’t want to cook. And if they’re not, that’s fine, too.”
“That’s the brand,” Maileah said, nodding. “Everything should feel like Jo touched it.”
“What about the Jam Session box?” Jo asked. “I’ve been thinking about that one.”
“Walk me through it,” Maileah said.
Jo looked at her notes. “All of the above, plus a playlist card of Adrian’s Friday night setlist. The songs people sing along to. I’d print it on a card the same size as the recipe cards, maybe with a little note about the history of the jam sessions.”
“Music is free to curate,” Rocky said. “No licensing cost if it’s just a playlist they can look up on their own.”
“And it adds personality without adding expense,” Junie added. “But you need more in that.”
Jo considered what else she could provide. “Since I often serve jambalaya as a Friday night special, I could add that recipe and create a spice kit for it. I could make that at the same time as the other spice blend.”
“Great idea.” Maileah was typing on her laptop. “I’m adding these to your dashboard. The Jam Session box is your signature tier. It’s the one people will screenshot and share.”
Jo moved on to the premium level. “Top of the line is the Imperial Kona Reserve. All the above, plus a signed bag with a personal note from me and a photo card of Mahina’s groves.”
“Signed by you?” Rocky asked.
Jo nodded. “Every one of them.”
“What about a subscription?” Junie suggested. “Monthly coffee delivery. Three months, six months, twelve months. Each tier gets a higher discount. It’s good to have your favorite coffee on hand all the time. It’s one less thing to think about or add to your list.”
“Absolutely. Thanks, Junie.” Jo liked that idea a lot.
“That’s your recurring revenue,” Rocky said, circling something on his spreadsheet. “Even after the campaign ends, those subscribers keep ordering. That’s how you build the business long-term.”
Jo made a note. She’d need to plan fulfillment carefully, but the local women she planned to hire could continue managing the monthly packing after the initial campaign orders went out.
“One more thing,” Maileah said, looking at Jo. “You need a stretch goal. Something to unlock if you blow past your target.”
“Rocky mentioned that. I’ve been thinking about a fourth blend.”
“Don’t reveal it,” Maileah said quickly. “Tease it. Something like, ‘Help us unlock our mystery fourth blend at a certain level.’ Give people a reason to keep sharing after you’ve funded.”
“I can call it the Imperial Cloud Forest,” Jo said. “Guatemala Antigua, light-medium, single origin.”
