By the time Rolandrei Varona returned to the Philippines in his early 20s, he had done what many young overseas workers struggle to do: he came home with savings and a clear desire to try business. After spending two years working on a cruise ship in the U.S., he had deliberately put money aside, resisting the temptation to spend. “Ang ginagawa ko was to save all my salary,” he recalls. At 21, it wasn’t easy. “Binata ako that time, 21 years old, nakaka-tempt gumastos, diba?” Still, he chose restraint. “Pang-good time, pero I saved lahat ng salary ko.” He even took on side work. “Suma-sideline pa ako para may extra money.”
By the time he reached 23, he felt ready to take his first step into entrepreneurship. “When I reached 23 years old, sabi ko, sige ano kaya, mag-try akong mag negosyo.” Like many first-time entrepreneurs, he didn’t start with a fully formed concept. Instead, he went looking for options. “Pag-uwi ko sa Pilipinas, I attended yung franchise expo,” he says. At the time, he was still undecided. “At first hindi ko pa alam kung anong concept.”
What caught his attention was a noodle house food cart franchise that was popular at the time. “I saw this food cart na Noodle House,” he recalls. “Usong-uso dati nun eh.” He decided to take the plunge and opened an outlet in Tutuban. “So nag-franchise ako and I opened an outlet sa Tutuban.” The timing initially worked in his favor. “Okay naman, I had a good location,” he says. The store opened during the peak retail season. “‘Ber’ months noon nung in-open ko yung outlet sa Tutuban.” Foot traffic was strong. “Sobrang traffic nun every day.”
Encouraged by the early performance, Varona applied what he knew. He managed inventory and operations using the basic restaurant skills he had learned earlier. “Savings ko ginamit ko,” he says, adding that his mother was supportive. “She was very supportive naman.” On the surface, the business seemed stable. “Naging okay naman.”
But after the holidays, reality set in. “But after nung ‘ber’ months, mga February,” he recalls, sales began to drop. The decline was noticeable. “Syempre bumaba yung sales.” He started to question the setup, especially the dependence on heavy foot traffic. “Parang kumonti tao sa Divisoria,” he says. Living near Taft, he began scouting locations closer to home and noticed a small space. “Yung naglalakad lang ako, nakita ko yung isang space.” But the idea of relocating the franchise didn’t sit well with him. “Sabi ko alanganin naman kasi food cart needs foot traffic.” For that kind of business, malls were essential. “High foot traffic di ba? Mall talaga kailangan.”
That realization forced a deeper reflection. While the franchise was operationally sound, it didn’t fully align with who he was as a chef. “Yung nag-franchise ako, parang okay naman yung business,” he says, “pero as a chef kasi na-iimagine ko, pag business ko, nandun yun creativity ko eh.” He was used to movement and control inside a kitchen. “Sanay na ako sa actions sa kitchen.” Running a franchise meant following a template rather than shaping something of his own.
That contrast became impossible to ignore. “Sabi ko mag-open ako ng sariling concept ko.” The decision wasn’t driven by failure—the franchise worked. It was driven by a deeper dissatisfaction. What Varona wanted wasn’t just income or stability. He wanted ownership in the truest sense: the freedom to create, experiment, and express a vision.
Varona’s first business taught him a crucial lesson early: owning a business is not the same as building a vision. The noodle house franchise worked on paper, but it left little room for creativity, control, or long-term meaning. Walking away from something that was “okay” allowed him to pursue something more aligned with who he was as a chef and entrepreneur. That choice—to leave a functioning business in search of a clearer vision—would shape everything that came next.
This article includes quotes from an interview originally published by Esquire Philippines, authored by Henry Ong.
