Every plate rung up, even at one o’clock.

What a chop bar’s day actually looks like

The pots are on before six. From half eleven the queue doesn’t stop: fufu for the table by the door, two waakye to take away, a driver who wants banku and pays by MoMo from the car. Somebody’s serving, somebody’s dishing, somebody’s taking money, and by half two it’s quiet again.

That’s the window where money goes missing. Not because anybody is a thief, but because nobody can write in a notebook while carrying three bowls. A plate goes out, the money goes in a pocket to be sorted later, and later never quite comes.

Every plate, one tap

The menu sits on the till as squares, one for every dish and every extra. Whoever’s serving taps what the table ordered, and the total adds itself up. No prices to remember, no sums in the head, no guessing what the extra meat costs today.

An order can stay open while they eat. When they’re ready to pay, it’s there with everything on it, and the next one starts on a fresh ticket.

Cash and MoMo in one drawer

Cash works out the change. MoMo sends the prompt to their phone, and the sale only closes when the money has actually arrived. At the end of the day you see the two side by side: what should be in the drawer, and what came in on MoMo.

The regulars who pay on Friday

Every chop bar has them. The mechanic across the road, the office that sends someone every day. Put their plates on their tab, under their name and number, and the customer book shows exactly what each one owes. When Friday comes, there’s no argument about how many plates it was.

When the pot’s empty

Mark a dish sold out and it greys out on the till, so nobody rings up waakye you haven’t got. On Pro, Tabworthy can also count what you buy and use up: eggs by the crate, drinks by the bottle, rice by the kilo, with each plate drawing on its supply. You see what’s left without counting it after every sale, and the stock page explains how.

Closing up

When the last bowl is washed, you know what the day made: cash, MoMo, what’s still on tabs, and which dishes sold. Count the drawer, type the number, and if something’s short you find out tonight, while everyone still remembers the day.

What it doesn’t do yet

It doesn’t manage your tables on a floor plan, it doesn’t split one bill between friends, and it doesn’t print to a kitchen printer. The kitchen sees orders on a screen instead, if you want it to: that’s the kitchen board.