"They'll Just Buy Something Else"
Six Words That Stopped Me Cold
I once heard this from a very senior procurement professional at one of America’s best-known quick-service restaurant brands. We were discussing supply disruption scenarios — what happens when a key menu item goes out of stock at the store level. His response was casual, almost dismissive.
“They’ll just buy something else.”
Six words. Delivered with the easy confidence of someone who has spent decades in the business and believes, genuinely, that the system is resilient enough to absorb a stockout without meaningful consequence. The customer will pivot. They will choose another menu item. The sale is not lost — it is redirected.
Outwardly, I stayed calm. Inside, I was raging. Not because the statement was malicious — it was not. This was a thoughtful, experienced professional who cared about his company and his role in it. But the statement revealed something that I think is deeply dangerous in supply chain management: a quiet hubris about what customers will tolerate, and a fundamental misunderstanding of what a stockout actually costs.
The Moment Trust Breaks
Picture the customer. They have been thinking about this meal for hours. Maybe since the morning, maybe since they saw an ad on their phone during lunch. They chose this brand over every other option available to them — and in quick-service, the options are nearly infinite. They drove to the location. They waited in line. They pulled out their wallet, ready to exchange money for the specific thing they came for.
“Sorry, we’re out of that today.”
In that moment, something breaks. It is not dramatic. The customer does not yell or storm out or write an angry letter. They smile politely, glance at the menu board, and order something else. Or maybe they say “no thanks” and leave. Either way, the interaction looks fine from the outside. The line keeps moving. The register keeps ringing.
But something has changed. The implicit promise that the brand made through its marketing, its advertising, its very existence — we will have what you want, when you want it — has been broken. And while any single instance might be forgiven, the erosion is cumulative. Each stockout chips away at the reflexive trust that makes a customer choose your brand over the one across the street.
What Great Brands Understand
Great brands do not become great by being adequate. They become great by relentlessly, obsessively focusing on delivering what the customer wants, when the customer wants it. The entire apparatus of a quick-service restaurant — the marketing that creates awareness, the menu development that creates desire, the operations that create consistency — exists to do one thing: make sure that when a customer shows up with money in hand, the transaction happens.
Marketing spent millions creating the demand. The brand invested years building the trust. The customer did their part — they chose you, they showed up, they were ready to buy. And at the final moment, the moment of conversion, the supply chain failed to deliver.
“They’ll just buy something else” treats that failure as trivial. It treats substitution as an acceptable outcome rather than what it actually is: a broken promise that cost real money to create.
The Roots Go Deeper Than the Store
When a stockout happens at the store level, it is tempting to treat it as a store-level problem. The manager misordered. The forecast was off. Someone did not check the walk-in cooler. These things happen, and they are fixable with better processes and training.
But the data tells a different story. Approximately 72% of stockouts in retail and foodservice are caused not by store-level errors but by upstream supplier issues. Late trucks from distribution centers. Misallocations at the warehouse level. Labor disruptions at supplier processing facilities. Quality holds that pull product out of the supply chain. Capacity constraints that prevent a supplier from fulfilling orders in full.
The store manager who runs out of a key ingredient at 7 PM on a Friday night is often the last person to experience a problem that originated days or weeks earlier, somewhere deep in the supply chain that they cannot see and cannot control. The stockout is the symptom. The disease is supplier risk that was never identified, quantified, or mitigated.
The Numbers Behind “Something Else”
The comforting fiction of “they’ll just buy something else” does not survive contact with the data.
The average retail stockout rate hovers around 4%. That sounds small until you consider the scale. Global lost sales from stockouts exceed $1 trillion annually. One trillion dollars in transactions that customers wanted to make but could not, because the product was not available.
And the substitution assumption — the idea that the sale is not lost but merely redirected — is contradicted by the research. Studies consistently show that 21-43% of customers who encounter a stockout will switch brands. Not items — brands. They will leave your restaurant and go to the competitor across the street. They will leave your store and order from someone else. The sale is not redirected. It is gone, along with some portion of that customer’s future loyalty.
For a quick-service restaurant brand, where the entire business model depends on habitual, repeat visits driven by consistent experience, those numbers should be terrifying. Every stockout is not just a missed sale — it is a small but measurable increase in the probability that the customer will not come back, or will come back less frequently, or will start defaulting to a different brand when they are deciding where to eat.
Lessons from Those Who Get It Right
The organizations that take stockouts seriously — truly seriously, not just in their mission statements — operate with a fundamentally different mindset. I have seen this firsthand at companies like Yum! Brands, where the approach to supplier risk is not passive but aggressive.
They manage supplier risk proactively, treating it as a strategic function rather than an operational afterthought. They do not wait for disruptions to reveal vulnerabilities — they actively seek them out, quantify them, and build mitigation plans before the disruption arrives.
They make thoughtful obsolescence decisions. When a menu item or ingredient needs to be retired, they do it deliberately, with a plan for transitioning customers and supply. Forced obsolescence — running out of something and hoping no one notices — is treated as waste, because it is. Every unit of demand that goes unfulfilled is value that was created by marketing and destroyed by operations.
And most importantly, they care deeply, at every level of the organization, about never disappointing a customer. Not because they are sentimental, but because they understand the economics. The cost of acquiring a customer is high. The cost of retaining one is low. And the cost of losing one to a preventable stockout is absurdly, unnecessarily wasteful.
Substitution Is Not the Standard
The mindset that “they’ll just buy something else” treats substitution as an acceptable baseline. It normalizes failure. It says, implicitly, that the supply chain’s job is not to deliver what the customer wants but to deliver something — and if the customer is flexible enough to accept a substitute, then no real harm was done.
But the customer does not see your supply chain. They do not know about the processing plant that had a labor issue, or the truck that was delayed, or the distribution center that misallocated inventory. They know one thing: they came for something specific, and it was not there. That is the entire experience, and it is the experience they will remember the next time they are deciding where to eat.
Substitution is not a strategy. It is the absence of one. It is what happens when the actual strategy — having the right product in the right place at the right time — fails. And every time we treat substitution as acceptable, we are telling ourselves a story about our supply chain’s resilience that the customer’s experience does not support.
The Real Question
The question is not whether customers will buy something else when their first choice is unavailable. Some will. The question is what it costs you — in lost sales, in lost loyalty, in lost lifetime value — every time you force them to make that choice. And the further question is whether those costs were preventable, if only someone had been paying attention to the risks upstream.
In my experience, the answer to that second question is almost always yes. The supplier risks that drive stockouts are not invisible. They are not unpredictable. They are quantifiable, and they are manageable. What they require is a willingness to look, a system for measuring, and a culture that refuses to accept “they’ll just buy something else” as an answer.
Because the customer who buys something else today might buy from someone else tomorrow. And the procurement professional who shrugs that off is not being realistic about human nature. They are being dangerously wrong about it.
