#1 | Kathir - The customer decides before walking in

Story of a footwear store in Tiruppur, Tamilnadu

Kathir is in his early fifties and runs a footwear business in Tiruppur. Or what’s left of it.

When I visited, the shop stretched across three shutters. Only one of them still sold shoes. The second had been turned into storage, a graveyard of old stock stacked to the ceiling in metal racks. The third had already been converted into a tea stall, selling biscuits and condiments.

Inside, the shop looks tired. Shoe boxes are piled unevenly, some fresh, some faded with dust. The walls are peeling, wires hang loose. You can sense the withdrawal - less care, less effort, as if the place itself knows its time is up.

Kathir has spent forty years in retail. He started as a helper at 13, worked in a dozen shops, then built a flourishing footwear chain of 6 stores at its peak and had thirty employees. Today, he sits barefoot on a stool, running the last one left.

“For the past 6 months, I have been telling my customers about closing the chappal shop. I am reducing the stock intake also. The racks are empty and looks odd , so I removed the racks also. The customers started asking me, so I told them the reason that I am going to close down the shop. I am showing the varieties that I have, which is very less. So, the sales is also reducing.”

The decline reflects broader small-town retail trends. Customer habits shifted toward online shopping, offering greater selection. Profit margins decreased, haggling increased, and seasonal sales no longer ensured business survival.

Education Without a Classroom

At age 13, Kathir was already worked on shop floors - grocery stores, iron shops, jewelry counters, arrack outlets, even a cinema theatre. He never stayed long, a year or two at most.

He learned to sweep floors, count cash, arrange shelves. More importantly, he learned how to greet a customer, how to read what they wanted, how to build trust. He calls his early bosses his “gurus.” School ended for him in the sixth standard, but education didn’t.

“If it is a lady, I would say that this chappal would go nice on her feet. If it is a male, then I would say that this chappal (footwear) would fit well for them. We cannot sell anything without talking. Only when we compliment them and sell the item, it is satisfying for us also. Some ladies ask whether this chappal looks good in their feet. We should also try and praise from our side, only then they would agree to purchase.”

By the time he had saved some money, the decision to start on his own was obvious. First a grocery shop. Then a bakery. Each business was an experiment. And when he saw a nearby footwear shop doing well but poorly managed, he didn’t hesitate. He bought it and made it his own and has been his identity for 20 years now.

The glory years: availability, trust, and word-of-mouth

For years, the formula to succeed was simple. Kathir’s footwear shops sat on a main road with steady footfall. He opened early (5:30–6:00 AM back then), closed late, and didn’t advertise - he didn’t need to. Customers traveled from 10-45 km because the shop “had all the models they wanted,” and word-of-mouth did the rest. Daily sales of ₹10,000 were normal; even Sundays did ₹3–4K. At his peak 15 years ago, he ran six shops with 30 workers. Margins were healthy (often ~30%), and mid-tier brands like VKC helped by protecting retailer margin.

The rule was straightforward: if the exact product wasn’t there, the customer bought the next best thing. Breadth of assortment plus a little personal attention was all it took.

Changing customer behaviour

The biggest shift for the business was consumer behaviour.

• Design-first, photo-in-hand shopping: Walk-ins now come after browsing “on the net.” They ask to see the “latest,” let the owner pull out half the racks, then reveal a specific photo on their phone and demand that exact model. If it’s not available, they leave. Kathir is explicit: design, more than price, is the blocker. Even when he matches price, the customer walks if the pattern isn’t exact.

They (customers) come after they have decided what to buy in online. They ask for a particular thing. We also give it to them. Then again, they show , what is available online. When we say, we don’t have the same pattern or design, they just leave, wasting our time. Even if we show the same product what they expect, they ask for a different model.

• Online price anchoring and offline haggling: Price discovery has migrated online. A pair he sells at ₹320 might be visible online at ₹240. Whether or not the online listing is comparable, it anchors expectation. Offline, bargaining has normalized - he says ~90 out of 100 people now ask for a discount, which was rare earlier.

“People started having the mindset to bargain now. When they go to big shops, they don’t bargain. Wherever I go, I tell them that I have a shop and it would be appreciated if you can reduce the price. If they say it is fixed rate, then I don’t get into bargaining mode. But today many people try to reduce. If 100 people come, 90 of them try to reduce the price.”

• Channel shift weakened in-store discovery: Previously, the shop was the first place a customer figured out what they wanted. Now the decision happens elsewhere; the store is an order-fulfillment stop. When you’re judged on your ability to match a photo, assortment precision matters more than breadth.

They (Customers) don’t show the photo as soon as they come. They first ask us to show the latest model. We also show them. We would take out everything and show them. Then they specifically show the photo and ask for a particular design or model. We immediately understand that they have not come to buy anything. When we tell them that we don’t have that model, they would leave and business gets affected. Also, if I am selling it at 320 rupees, the same is sold for 240 rupees online. So, they prefer online.

Kathir can’t always source the models customers ask for. Even with brand catalogues and article numbers (e.g., VKC), the supplier network doesn’t mirror online variety. Ordering by phone helps for replenishment, but for design-specific requests, he still prefers visiting in person to hunt sizes 8–9 (the most demanded). This introduces lag and mismatch.

When he started, nearby options were limited. Today, he counts ~15 additional shops in the vicinity. The effect is two-fold: split footfall and lower switching costs.

Inventory risk has risen:

• Old stock isn’t always returnable (typically only within ~1 month).

• Ageing materials can “break like biscuit” or bleed color if unused too long - dead stock becomes defective stock.

Operational frictions that amplify the decline

• Manpower and trust: He once managed ~30 workers; today it’s mostly family. He cites phone addiction, low reliability, and attitude issues among new hires. Less help means fewer hands to serve, search stock, and sell - a disadvantage when customers expect instant design matches.

• Credit leakage: He extends credit to “good” customers; some don’t repay. Small losses matter more when margins are tight.

• Digitization gap: He adopted PhonePe after demonetization to avoid losing sales, but still validates via SMS, and avoids computerized billing - writing bills on paper with a seal if pressed. It works, but it places him slightly out of sync with customers who expect formal receipts.

• Supplier trust has thinned: The old mode - big wholesalers extending stock on trust - has faded. Without that cushion, scaling up quickly for seasonal bursts is harder.

God as a companion.

Every time Kathir speaks about any topic - the customer, the vendor, the supplier, or money—there is an element of God that he invokes in the conversation.

Starting with simple things, like how he begins his day, Kathir performs a puja, prays to God, and feels grateful for the first sale. He closes the day with a prayer. All these gestures are an attempt to invite God into his business because he fundamentally believes that everything - from the customer to the ups and downs of his life, the uncertainties about the shop’s future - is an act of God.

Every purchase feels like a blessing that a customer chose to buy footwear from his shop. Consequently, his customer service stems from this mindset of service rather than transaction. He addresses customers politely, asks about their daily lives, and feels great when he meets their needs. He feels sad and guilty when he cannot.

The aspect of God is invoked in every conversation; it feels as if God is Kathir’s business partner. In his mind, God is real, present, and an integral part of the business.

By God’s grace, I have everything including a house. I need to earn at least 30K per month which I don’t get. I have been trying to improve my business but I am unable to do. I know to do lot of jobs. I have worked in grocery shop, jewel shop, iron shop, arrack shop, whiskey shop, worked in cinema theatres. But now I want to do some business which is actually in demand.

Conclusion

The store will probably not last. One shutter is already a tea stall. Another is just storage. The last is limping along. At some point, it too will change. Kathir’s story isn’t about footwear. It’s about how the rules change mid-game, and sometimes there’s nothing you can do about it.

For forty years, he did everything right: opened early, stocked wide, treated people well. It worked brilliantly - until the day it stopped working at all. The world didn’t get meaner. The game just changed.

Kathir talks about moving into juice and ice cream - businesses with daily demand, more suited to the pace of today. He sees it as another blessing, another test, another line of survival.

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This research was conducted for the People+AI’s report ‘People’s Voice’ where we uncovered AI opportunities for Indian MSMEs. You can download the full report here.