We don’t educate the next generation about the realities of commerce and that’s damaging us all

In schools and in the mainstream media, little attention is paid to the actual practicalities of economics and finance

Plenty is spoken about the difficulties of getting started, but not enough about the basics of creating a sustainable business model (Getty)

Near where I live a new restaurant has opened. I’d better not give it a name because of what follows.

It’s a disaster. Throughout what should have been the busiest period of the year, it was virtually empty; on the ground floor a few tables were occupied, upstairs was deserted. Next door, the landmark pub did a roaring trade. All around, bars and eating places were also packed.

But not this one. Not this entrant, launched on a swell of optimism and promise – and, I’d wager, a substantial cash investment.

I walk the dogs along there regularly and always linger for a nosy. I give it until Easter, if it’s lucky. It opened in October, so six months should do it. End of March, and it will be gone.

Which will be a pity. No one likes to see startups fold, for jobs to vanish, and in this case, a location that had lain abandoned for the best part of two years, return to its forlorn past.

Honestly, though, you have to question what the owners were thinking. Previously belonging to one of the more successful groups, the restaurant was busy but never rammed. When they cut back, sure enough it was earmarked for closure. If they could not make it work, why would anyone else suppose they could?

It was on a poor site. Parking was difficult. The only public transport nearby was from the occasional passing bus.

That’s not to say it was not prominent. Everyone knew the spot, thousands passed it every day, right on a corner, next to a major road junction.

The new folk thought they were clever. In confident defiance of the brands that dominate high streets, running counter to rampant commercialism and corporatism they proudly announced their establishment was “independent”.

When they came to their offer, they opted for “small plates”, not starters and mains. That was all. Small plates. The idea being that if you wanted a substantial meal you bought several tiny portions; something lighter you stuck to just one or two.

They did it, though, without panache and flair, devoid of atmosphere, absent of obvious love. Tapas, it was not.

Instead, their line was: “We know what to do, trust us; the people will come.”

But the people have voted, and very soon their venture will join the ranks of businesses launched in Britain every year that fizz then disappear.

It’s sad. I wish them no ill. Honestly, though, what were they thinking?

Doubtless, their spreadsheets and predictions proclaimed otherwise, but a wing and a prayer is the answer. Like so many would-be entrepreneurs, they seemingly assumed they’d spotted a gap in the market, and all they needed to do was plug it.

It’s perplexing how ambition often overcomes brains. Recall all the great business ideas you’ve seen come and go, the shops and restaurants you saw open, only to perish shortly after.

It’s a pet subject of mine – a politer way of saying a hobby horse – that we do not educate our young and grown-ups in the realities of commerce; that we do not teach them how businesses succeed and collapse.

Our education system does not engage enough with the subject. Schools, colleges and exam courses are one thing, however. It’s not a topic that occupies our mainstream media either. On the TV there are Dragons’ Den and The Apprentice, and that’s pretty much all.

In newspapers, too, little attention is paid to the actual practicalities of economics and finance.

Plenty is spoken and written about the difficulties of getting started, dealing with red tape, finding skilled employees, securing bank lending, obtaining export orders, and hopefully, moving up to the next stage. But frequently it is presented as how-to instruction, without focusing on the more underlying basics such as: does the product really fulfil a need; does the opportunity actually exist; and how do you ensure this will fill it?

Take the crashing restaurant. If I was them, I would look at the industry’s masters – at their themes, menus, pricing points, the premium they put upon service, the quality of their cooking, the sourcing of ingredients, the composition of the wine-list and choice of soft drinks, the layout and decor.

I’d wander into the top-performing chains, and the poorer ones, and try and identify what makes the former tick, and what condemns the latter. I’d see what works and what doesn’t, which dishes are popular and why, and which are not and why.

What I would not do is presume that I know best, and ignore the evidence that is easily available: of tried and tested formulae; of the past; of hard experience and expert knowledge. For their hubris (their losing establishment appears not to have taken heed of the positives and negatives from anywhere) the backers of my local newcomer deserve to fail.

Sadly, their resulting catastrophe is all too common. And that highlights an urgent, underlying national void.

Chris Blackhurst is a former editor of The Independent, and executive director of C|T|F Partners, the campaigns and strategic communications advisory firm