How I started a snack business with £1,000 and a van

Some people think you need a business plan, plenty of money or a huge bank loan to start a business. I had none of those. What I did have was a grand in savings, an old Luton Transit van, and just enough self-belief to be dangerous.

 

This is the story of how I got started – how I went from having no clue what I was doing to creating and running several snack brands that would become known across the country and exported around the world. And it all began in a battered old Luton van with some shelves I knocked together myself.

 

No qualifications, no clue how to run a business – just a gut feeling and a good idea

 

Hi, I’m Dave Willis. I didn’t come from money, I didn’t do well at school. No one taught me the rules of business or told me I had what it took. In fact, most people probably thought the opposite. But what I did have was a nagging itch to make more of my life – and a rebellious streak that meant I didn’t want a boss telling me when I could or couldn’t have a cup of tea, I wanted to be my own boss!

 

I’d spent enough years working in lowly sales jobs to know I wasn’t built for taking orders and climbing the management tree. So, when I stumbled into a job as a van salesman for KP, something clicked, and it occurred to me that maybe I could do this for myself. My then girlfriend Judy, later to be my wife and business partner, believed in me. Well, truth be told, she told me to either do it or shut up talking about it!

 

The £1,000 gamble

 

It was 1996, I had £1,000 in savings. That’s it. Not enough for an office or a team but it was enough to buy my first van load of stock. We were renting the upstairs flat of a cottage on a farm in Chesham, and our landlord (the lovely Michael Sweeting) saw enough in me to lend me £3,000 to buy an old transit van. He also rented me a small lock-up on the farm to store my stock (in later years I went on to rent his two biggest barns, so his belief in me paid off). With the help of a good mate, we built some shelves in the van to hold the peanuts and pork scratchings, leaving a big space at the front and above the cab where I stacked the crisps.

 

Selling someone else’s brand – and learning the ropes

 

To begin with, I wasn’t selling my own brand, I started out with a hand-cooked crisp brand called Jonathan Crisp. This was a new style of crisps conceived in America, and Jon (no, his surname wasn’t Crisp!), an enterprising Canadian, had come over to England to start manufacturing this newfangled product in a small unit just outside Oxford. Luckily for me they were only selling in the Oxford area and were looking for a wholesaler in London. Chesham is in the commuter belt outside London, and even though I didn’t fancy the traffic jams travelling in and out, I could recognise a huge opportunity when I saw it! I’ll never forget the feeling of sitting in my van on that first day, loaded with stock and with no customers. Yes, I had ambition and desire to succeed, but the terror of complete failure, and looking like a fool if it fails, is also a huge motivator!

 

I didn’t overthink it; I created a basic price list and bought a duplicate invoice book and set off. I started locally, visiting the pubs in the nearby towns and villages. I’d never done a sales course, but I knew people, I knew how to talk, and more importantly, how to listen. That counted for more than a sales course ever could. Publicans and small retailers are also entrepreneurs, and I discovered there was a lot of goodwill from them, wanting to help a new start-up succeed.

 

The golden rule: get it in their hands

 

I had a simple approach to sales: walk into pubs, sandwich bars and delis, and give the landlord or owner a couple of samples and a smile. I’d say something like, “Hi, I’m Dave and I’m selling this new brand of crisps, please can I give you these samples and a price list, and pop back in a couple of days to see what you think?” That was it.

 

And you know what? It worked.

 

Most people said yes because I wasn’t pushy. And once they tasted the product – something a bit better than the big brands – they’d often take a case or two on the spot.

 

Early wins – and the power of reliability

 

As the weeks went by, I picked up more and more customers and started to build a regular round. The key was showing up. I was there in person at the same time on the same day every fortnight, shaking hands, building relationships, and delivering stock on the spot. Fast, simple, and no middlemen.

 

I didn’t overcomplicate things, I kept each customer’s details on a record card where I logged their orders so I could track who wanted what, and make sure I always had enough stock. It was a bit scrappy, but it worked.

 

I’d go out five days a week, hitting different areas, and on Saturday I would do my admin, entering every sale and every purchase in a great big ledger by hand (yes, that does make me feel very old!). At first most of my time was spent canvassing for new customers, but as the weeks and months went by, I was adding more and more new accounts, and my pocket started to bulge from all the cash and cheques I was collecting.

 

Word started to spread, landlords would sometimes call and say “I hear you’re the crisp bloke? Paul down the road at the Nags Head recommended you”, and just like that, a route that had started with just a hunch and a van started to feel like a real business.

 

Hustling without a safety net

 

There was no backup plan. I didn’t have savings tucked away. We both lived on Judy’s wages. I reinvested everything. If I made £100, I put £90 back into stock and fuel. We mostly ate Judy’s legendary soup and toast and I didn’t care, because I believed something bigger was building.

 

Every now and then, I’d catch myself thinking: This might actually work.

 

I wasn’t rich, but I had freedom. And that meant more to me than any salary ever had. 

 

Lessons from the van

 

There’s something raw about starting a business like this, no big investment, no cunning strategy, nothing flash. Just you, the road and your determination. And in that simplicity, you learn lessons that stick:

 

Show up in person. Emails and ads don’t build trust – handshakes and reliability do.

 

Give people something to taste. Don’t just talk about how great your products are – let them decide.

 

Don’t be afraid of rejection. This is a big one. Some people will say no, sometimes not in a very kind way. That’s fine. Brush it off and move on.

 

Keep it lean. You don’t need a perfect setup to start – you just need to start.

 

Reinvest. Don’t waste early profits. Put them back into the project.

 

Looking back, those days on the van were some of the hardest – and best – of my life. They laid the foundation for everything that followed.

 

From selling crisps to building a brand

 

Eventually I started thinking: Why am I building someone else’s brand when I could be building my own?

 

That’s when Salty Dog was born, but that’s a story for another post.

 

What I will say now is this: everything I needed to learn about running a business, I learned from knocking on doors with a box of crisps and a price list.

 

It wasn’t glamorous, it wasn’t easy. But it was mine.

 

Why I’m telling this story now

 

There are a lot of people out there right now – maybe you – sitting on an idea but scared to start. Maybe you think you need more money, more knowledge, or someone to give you permission.

 

You don’t.

 

I started with £1,000, no qualifications, and a battered old van. What I had was energy, belief, and the willingness to fail trying.

 

If that’s you – if you’re itching to do something but don’t know where to begin – take this post as your green light. You don’t need the whole road mapped out. Just start with the next step.

 

A new mission: the Terriertorial Army

 

The truth is, I didn’t get lucky. I just got going.

 

Now I want to help others do the same – by creating something we’re calling The Terriertorial Army!

 

It’s not a franchise. It’s not a gimmick. It’s a way for people to start their own snack selling business the same way I did – low cost, low risk, high energy. We’ll supply the stock, a bit of guidance, and brands that people trust. You bring the hustle and heart.

 

If you’re curious, keep an eye on this blog. We’ll be opening it up soon.

 

 

Thanks for reading. If this hit home for you – or reminded you of your own journey – let me know in the comments or share it with someone who needs that little nudge to get started.