From Pizza Boxes to Protocols: What Takealot Drilled Into Us

The Three C's: Consistency, Clarity, and Cut-Offs

Sometimes, the biggest lessons don’t come from books—they come from trying to run a bookshop without accidentally combusting. And lately, my personal sermon has been about three things: consistency, clarity, and cut-off times.

Chaos O'Clock (a.k.a. My Morning)

This morning, I stumbled into the depot at 7:30am looking like I’d done five rounds with a toddler and a thermal label printer—and lost to both. My hair was somewhere between a bun and a warning sign, my caffeine levels were critical, and I had a stray book sticker stuck to the back of my leg like a badge of shame. Mbusi from Internet Express had already been at the door at 7:15,his earliest pick-up yet, and I wasn’t even wearing matching socks.

Enter Paul, in Crisp Chinos

Paul, my husband and resident voice of calm, sits at his desk in quiet, spreadsheeted serenity. He’s the anti-chaos to my whirlwind. His workspace? Pristine. Colour-coded folders. Keyboard perfectly aligned. Desk plant watered like clockwork. If it wasn’t so helpful, it’d be deeply irritating.

And the man wears button-up shirts with starched-collars and chinos that somehow never wrinkle. Like, ever. Even after a nap. Even after a full day. It’s either witchcraft or some ancient male privilege passed down from generation to generation. Ladies, you know the special kind of rage that bubbles up when your partner looks freshly pressed while your blouse crumples just from thinking about laundry. It's unfair. It's unnatural. It's very Paul.

He even has a signature sigh when he spots my Post-It-covered laptop screen—a soft, patient sound, like a disappointed yoga instructor. And don’t get me started on the way he delicately straightens our tape dispenser before starting his day.

Anyway, Paul is calm. Methodical. Logical. And very, very in love with systems.

Meet Paul (and Takealot)

In addition to being my husband and ReadMatter’s resident calm-in-a-crisis logistics king, Paul also runs another ecommerce business. Yes, another one. Because apparently, running one online store isn’t challenging enough for him.

His other business sells on Takealot. And if you’ve ever sold on Takealot, you’ll know: they do not play.

Miss a dispatch deadline? Warning. Cancel too often? Suspension. Get a single complaint? Listing paused. It’s ecommerce meets the Hunger Games.

Paul, of course, loves it. Naturally. It’s rules. It’s structure. It’s spreadsheets with teeth. If he could, he’d probably frame their terms and conditions and hang them in the guest bathroom. He calls their operations "elegant." (Which, frankly, is the kind of thing only a man who irons his shoelaces would say.)

Steve—our code-obsessed developer—once printed out Takealot’s SLA documentation and stuck it next to his monitor like it was holy scripture. I’m not saying he cried, but I’m also not saying he didn’t. The man once debugged our inventory sync at 2am, while eating dry cereal straight from the box and muttering, “This is why humans invented systems.”

And here’s the wild part: Takealot has actually made Paul’s business better. When they demand a backfill (which they euphemistically call 'Data-enrichment')? He does it. Happily. When they request higher-resolution photos of a product? He’s already setting up the lighting. When they ask for additional safety stock or stricter listing compliance? He leans in with the enthusiasm of a kid with a Lego catalogue.

Why? Because he knows that behind the red tape and rigid rules lies something rare in the ecommerce world: a system that helps you improve. It doesn’t feel punitive to him. It feels like a nudge toward better. More professional. More consistent. And he loves that.

Honestly, it’s almost unnerving how enthusiastically he meets their demands. But also? I kind of admire it.

(Even if I’m still not convinced his collars are made of cotton and not Kevlar)

What We Do Best (Other Than Drink Coffee)

At ReadMatter, we’ve built our little book kingdom on love, hustle, and honestly ridiculous amounts of bubble wrap. We grade our books like suspicious librarians, pack parcels like they’re Fabergé eggs, and chase couriers with the enthusiasm of caffeinated bloodhounds.

But even more than care—it’s consistency that makes the magic happen.

Marketplace Mayhem (and Why We’re Selective)

We know our books intimately. We know if a copy has been gently read or absolutely devoured. We know if the spine whispers “almost new” or screams “three beach holiday and a toddler.” And we rate, describe, and pack them accordingly.

So when we opened ReadMatter up to marketplace sellers in 2022—fellow book hoarders, indie resellers, passionate secondhand evangelists, and yes, even the lady with a Sunday market stall sandwiched between artisanal cheese and hand-carved Rasta-themed giraffes—we knew we had to bring a little Takealot-style backbone to the party.

There needed to be more than just love of books. There needed to be systems. Agreements. A shared language. Standards.

So we built them.

When Systems Work, Magic Happens

Our customers suddenly had more—more choice, more variety, more obscure niche genres you didn’t even know you needed until 1:17am. Our sellers had reach—books that once sat lonely on makeshift shelves were suddenly travelling cross-country. Just today, we shipped books to Koster, Aliwal North, Van Riebeeckstrand, Nieu-Bethesda, Pofadder, Wakkerstroom, Rosendal, Vanwyksdorp, Howick, Matjiesfontein, White River, Steytlerville, Chrissiesmeer, Parys, and yes— Struisbaai.

But beyond the reach, it’s the symbiosis that makes this work.

We didn’t just list their books. We invested in them. We mentored sellers who started out nervously WhatsApping blurry photos, and helped them evolve into spreadsheet-wielding, ISBN-scanning micro-merchants. We advance them lump sums—upfront credit—so they can source new stock without worrying about cash flow (because anyone who’s ever run a small business knows that cash flow isn’t just queen, it’s the whole royal court). As their books sell, we simply deduct from the balance. Clean. Empowering. Practical.

They also get the magic of Steve’s code wizardry—without ever having to actually speak to Steve (and trust me, that’s a blessing). They benefit from our SEO, our ad budget, our lovingly designed 'browse-all-authors' interface, and our endlessly scrollable site, complete with filters galore and a sprinkling of penguins.

And logistics? Please. Spa-smooth. Our system hums. Our customers are spoiled for choice.

And the best part? No one’s stepping on anyone’s toes.

We don’t all stock the same books—that would be silly. Marketplace sellers bring the glorious backlist: vintage Grishams, forgotten romances, out-of-print gems. We focus on the glossy, juicy, nearly-new stuff—the TikTok faves, the recent releases that look like they just stepped off a Bookstagram photoshoot. No overlap. No competition. Just a lovely, well-balanced literary diet.

This setup frees us up to do what we do best: curating the kind of fiction that makes people squeal when it arrives. The ones you gift proudly, or keep for yourself and lie about gifting. The ones with uncreased spines and that satisfying fresh-book smell.

When People Walk Away

Of course… not everyone likes rules.

And sometimes—despite the support, the national exposure, the mentorship, the courier network, the upfront payments—we have to pause a seller.

Maybe there were too many stock-outs. Maybe a book arrived at us with undisclosed water damage and the faint aroma of wet dog. Maybe Vusi showed up to collect a batch of orders and the seller was in Northam. Fishing. With zero warning.

So we say, gently: “Let’s pause. Take a week. Do a full stock check. Backfill the gaps. Come back stronger.”

Same thing Takealot would do. Just without the scary red banners, and the dreaded word "Compliance" in the email subject line.

And sometimes, the response we get is: “Nah. I’m out.”

They walk away. Because structure feels restrictive. Because tracking numbers feel tedious. Because we asked them to message us when something sells out—not after binge-watching all seasons of Bridgerton and repotting the succulents and a quick nap—but immediately. Because excellence, it turns out, is a little inconvenient.

And so… they leave.

And we let them.

Because walking away from a system that supports you, grows you, and gives you national reach… over a temporary ego bruise?

That’s not business sense.

That’s short-sightedness in a sundress.

What We’re Really Protecting

And maybe now is a good time to confess something else. For all my chaotic energy, and the trail of half-drunk coffee cups I tend to leave across every surface of the depot—I’m not actually laissez-faire. In fact, I’m... kind of intense.

I’ve been known to reposition a price sticker three times because it wasn’t aligned “visually centre” (which, yes, is different from “technically centre”). I have, on more than one occasion, reprinted a courier label because it printed slightly skew. I care. Possibly too much. About every book. Every customer. Every order. Every single review.

Once,  a customer responded to our Trustindex "rate your Readmatter experience" post-purchase email and wrote: “Excellent condition and service,” but gave us four stars. FOUR. Not five. And I have spent more time awake at 2am wondering what we did wrong than I would if Paul volunteered to fight in Ukraine and hadn’t checked in for three weeks. (No offence, starch-collared Paul.)

Paul may be the spreadsheet whisperer, but I’m the one who physically winces when someone bubble-wraps a book like they’re wrapping a banana for school tuck. We go over the top—because we believe it matters. A lot.

Which is why—even if an order only contains marketplace stock—we still send Vusi to collect it and bring it back to our Johannesburg depot. Because we triple-check. We page through the books. We inspect every corner. We make sure the listing matched the reality. Then we wrap it our way—the ReadMatter way. With care. With precision. With not a single grease stain in sight.

Because what we’re really protecting isn’t just the parcel.

It’s our reputation.

When a marketplace seller is off-grid in Northam with no signal and a trout rod, it’s our customer who gets their book late. Not theirs. When a title is described as 'like new' but arrives with a cracked spine and a scribble on page 73, it’s ReadMatter that takes the heat.

So yes, we’re a little over the top. We insist on packing. On checking. On quality. We want your parcel to arrive quickly, cleanly, and with the kind of thoughtful attention that makes you smile before you even get to the first page.

We want no disappointments. Ever.

Our 5-star Google rating? We polish it like your grandmother’s silver tea set. Our 100% Bobshop score? It’s sacred.

Because ReadMatter isn’t just a bookshop.

It’s a promise.

And we intend to keep it.

The Final Word (and Probably Another Coffee)

Running a marketplace is hard. Keeping it excellent is harder. But our readers deserve that.

And if we have to channel a bit of Takealot energy—while still offering the warmth, humour, and relentless optimism that defines ReadMatter—then so be it.

Because we’re not here to host chaos. We’re here to curate joy.

Claire x