I Began This Store Inside a Desk Drawer

I began this store inside a desk drawer. 

Sounds like the start of a bad children’s book, but it’s true. After moving on from a previous role in the whisky industry, I wanted to do something fun for a year that didn’t consume all my spare time. I was having a tough time of it, so a low-pressure side project felt sensible.

I started by buying a slightly excessive number of Cherry MX Blacks, breaking them in, then lubing and filming them before selling them on. It felt good to be hands-on, focused, simple. But it quickly became clear that repeating one product wasn’t enough. The real opportunity wasn’t reselling what already existed. It was finding the gaps and closing them.

So I started looking on Alibaba and found a couple of suppliers I still work with today. Suddenly there was variety. Orders began coming in daily. I enjoyed dispatching them and writing a note inside every parcel. That part never felt like work.

As the catalogue grew, I realised something important: offering everything is not the same as curating well. At one point I was adding more than one new switch per day for nearly 90 days. From a business perspective I’d modelled margins, demand and reorder cycles. What I completely ignored was physical space and mental bandwidth. I'd taken a mantra "close the gaps" into obscenity.

I knew things were getting out of hand when I lost access to my bath.

At first I could manage stock carefully. I knew exactly how much of each switch I needed to cover until the next top-up order. Deliveries came in UPS drivers’ hands and I carried them upstairs in my two-bed flat in London for the exercise.

Then order volume increased and each SKU required deeper stock. I asked my Dad if I could use his office room for overflow storage. He agreed. That worked for a while. He was utterly baffled by this behaviour, but supportive.

But once the rate of new products exceeded the space available and the furniture had already migrated, the only container left large enough to hold bulk stock was the bath. Bags of switches replaced hot water. That was the moment it stopped being a side experiment.

Shortly after, I moved to the countryside, laid down some roots and accepted that this wasn’t temporary. The store now occupies an entire house. That shift forced some maturity.

Inventory is forecasted properly. Orders are placed deeper and less reactively. Instead of ordering small quantities of everything promising, I now commit to meaningful volume on products I think will really benefit people, so 15,000 units of a single variant is common to improve availability and reduce panic buying. That many of a single variety is around 30kg. 

What hasn’t changed is the part that matters most.

I still pack orders myself. I still write the handwritten notes. They make my day better and keep me grounded. If something matters enough for someone to order it, it matters enough for me to thank them properly. Every transaction represents a real person spending their hard-earned money. 

I’ve also continued our charity work. Not as a marketing angle, but because I believe businesses should contribute to the health of their communities. Supporting the people who support us feels non-negotiable to me.

What's next?

One of the most meaningful developments recently has been bringing on Chris, a local from Edenbridge. He’s shown real potential and has taken significant workload off my shoulders after 20 months of sprinting. It’s allowed me to spend more time with family and think more strategically about the future. This is a huge emotional and capacity boost.

If Chris and I continue executing well, growth should result in better long-term pricing, stronger availability and more ambitious technical projects. The kind that don’t immediately drive cash but return disproportionate value to the community. We may even end up in a local warehouse here in Edenbridge. 

So, the store has grown from a desk drawer to a house. That difference has changed almost every area of my life for the better. That said, I still don't have a bath (the new one is filled with deskmats). But I wouldn't have it any other way.

I hope you love your experience with the store. The customers who made this possible deserve to walk away feeling every bit as valued as they are. And if something goes wrong, know that I'm just a message away. More than likely, cuddling my dogs.

All my love,
Matty