No commission on your sales
Orders are paid through the payment provider you connect, and the money goes to your account. We charge per module, per location, per month. Your busiest night does not cost you more.
The café that paid for six tools
TapTime began in the back office of a twelve-table café in Sofia's Lozenets district in the winter of 2024. The owner, a friend of our founders, showed us her monthly invoices: a QR menu builder, an ordering app that took a cut of every order, a reservation widget priced per cover, a loyalty punch-card app, a site builder and a Google Ads freelancer whose reports never matched the bookings on the board. Six tools, six logins, six invoices, and not one of them knew that the guest at table four had a loyalty card.
The two of us who started the company had spent the previous decade building payment and booking systems for other people. We knew the problem was not that these tools were bad. It was that each of them was built for a market where a venue can afford a developer, an agency and a second manager to glue them together. In Sofia, in Tbilisi, in Almaty, the owner is the developer, the agency and the second manager.
So we wrote down what one account would have to do for that café: open the menu from a code, take the order and the payment, show the ticket in the kitchen, call the number in the hall, book the table from Instagram, stamp the card at the till, and tell Google which ad brought the guest. Then we wrote down the rules we would not break: no commission on orders, no per-cover fee, no setup fee, no contract, and every screen in the owner's own language before it is in ours.
The first version ran in that café in spring 2025 with a menu, a floor plan and a stamp card. The kitchen display came that summer, because the chef kept asking why the order was on the waiter's phone and not on the wall. Appointments came when a barber two streets away asked whether the same booking page could work for chairs instead of tables. Conversion tracking came when the first owner started buying ads and wanted the truth about them.
By 2026 the same account was running in Georgia, Turkey, Kazakhstan, Uzbekistan and the western Balkans, each with its own currency, its own banks and wallets, and its own language on every guest page. That is still the whole idea: one platform, built from the venue outward, for the markets where nobody else bothered to localise.