What If I Were… Danny Meyer, Opening a Chain of Lemonade Stands?

 

Published 28.08.2025

Let’s rewind a bit. Picture this: suburbia in summer. Sidewalks hot enough to fry flip-flops, bikes skidding up and down the block, and that sudden bolt of entrepreneurial lightning every kid gets at least once:

“We should open a lemonade stand.”

And just like that, we were in business.

My best friend from across the street became my co-founder. We used an old door from my dad’s shed balanced on two paint cans as our counter. Branding? A sign in crayon taped to a stick. Strategy? Yell loud enough to stop any passing car or cyclist. Distribution? Us, on bikes, riding around the neighbourhood the night before to spread the word. Pure hustle.

We were ready for launch. Except… we drank most of the product. And Mom hit her limit after the second batch:

“I’m not making any more. If you want more lemonade, squeeze it yourself.”

So we did. Sort of.

At a nickel a cup (10p if you’re across the pond), we were certain we were going to be rich. We’d have enough for candy, slushies, maybe even a second bike. Our margins? Questionable. Our enthusiasm? Off the charts.

Which brings me to the question. What if I were DANNY MEYER, and I decided to open a chain of Lemonade Stands?

  

1. First, the Welcome Would Be Legendary

No “uhh, hi” from behind a shaky folding table.

You’d be greeted like a regular. A warm smile, eye contact, and a genuine:

“Hot day, huh? Can I get you a classic or something with a twist?”

Because in Danny’s world, hospitality isn’t what you do after someone shows up—it’s how you make them feel the moment they arrive.

 

2. The Menu Would Be Simple. But Thoughtful.

  • Classic Lemonade (balanced, not cloying)

  • Frozen Lemon Pops (yes, our childhood dream lives!) 

No gimmicks. No twenty-flavour chaos. Just the best version of a simple classic.

3. The Staff Would Feel Like Partners

Every stand would be run by kids who felt ownership. Who got trained. Who got tipped. We’d teach them how to welcome people, how to stir without splashing, and how to hand over change with a smile.

Because every good lemonade stand is a gateway drug to great hospitality.

 

4. Community Comes Standard

These wouldn’t be dropped-in concepts. They’d be part of the neighbourhood.

Each stand would donate a portion to the local park fund, or sponsor a bike tune-up day, or hand out free cups to kids who just wiped out on the pavement.

 

5. You’d Leave Feeling Better Than When You Arrived

Because that’s what great hospitality does.

  

SO WHY WRITE THIS?

Because somewhere between nickel lemonade and hospitality empires, we forget what made it special in the first place.

It wasn’t just about the product. It was about the joy of doing something together. Of making something. Of being part of something.

If I were Danny Meyer and opening lemonade stands, I wouldn’t be chasing nostalgia—I’d be building it. One paper cup at a time.

Now someone grab a lemon and start squeezing.