"Squeezed by Delivery Apps, Abandoned by Headquarters... Forced to Close Down"[The Fall of the Chicken Republic]②

[Interview] Former Chicken Franchise Owner Who Closed Shop
"After Delivery Apps Emerged, Over 100 Daily Orders Led to Zero Profit"
Promotions at Owner's Expense... Burden of Fixed Supply and Ingredient Costs from Headquarters

Editor's NoteDuring the COVID-19 pandemic, the delivery platform market experienced explosive growth. However, chicken, the most frequently ordered item on delivery applications, is now facing a crisis. This is because delivery fees have snowballed as more orders are placed through these apps. Chicken franchise companies have tried to defend profitability by raising prices. However, these price hikes have led to even higher delivery fees, which in turn have fueled consumer price inflation, weakened demand, and worsened management difficulties, creating a vicious cycle. The 25,000 won price tag for chicken symbolizes the collapse of the chicken republic built on delivery platforms. Chicken, the nation's favorite snack, marks the beginning of the decline of self-employed businesses. There are growing concerns that if the monopolistic structure of delivery platforms is left unchecked, even the franchise industry, which has been an accessible business option for self-employed individuals, could collapse.

"There was a time when business was so good that I could move from a one-room apartment to a larger one. I used to make more than 100 deliveries a day and barely had time to sleep. But now, it's even harder just to keep going. Even after working all day, I can't make minimum wage, so there's no reason to keep getting my hands greasy anymore."

Kim Sujin (alias, age 48), who ran a chicken franchise in Heukseok-dong, Dongjak-gu, Seoul for nearly 20 years, finally closed her shop in August last year. At one point, her annual sales exceeded 1 billion won, but in recent years, sales dropped sharply and profits plummeted.

The photo is unrelated to specific expressions in the article. Getty Images Bank

When business was booming, her shop was always filled with the sound and smell of frying chicken. Local residents would joke, "I came in today, drawn by the smell again." For Kim, that aroma was a source of pride and the reason for her life.

Her business collapsed after the rise of delivery platforms. Phone orders disappeared, and most orders came through applications, fundamentally changing her business model. Kim said, "I've been running this shop in the same neighborhood for 20 years, and I used to recognize regulars just by their voices. Now, I don't even know my customers' names, let alone their faces."

She started using delivery platforms in 2018, encouraged by headquarters. She fried the chicken, while her husband rode the motorcycle. Back when the couple handled everything themselves, they managed over 100 orders a day through their own effort and personal touch. However, after joining the platform, sales declined, while the burden of fees and delivery charges ballooned.

Kim lamented, "In the past, every delivery was entirely our profit. But after deducting app fees, advertising costs, and delivery charges, there's nothing left. Even after frying and delivering all day, I was left with barely 1.5 million won in my bank account." As Kim described, the profit structure only worsened. Even after working 13 hours a day, her take-home pay was less than the minimum wage (10,030 won per hour as of 2025).

Losses grew even worse when the weather was bad. On rainy days, delivery charges would soar from the usual 4,000 won to as much as 7,000 won. If no delivery riders were available and orders were delayed, negative reviews would pour in, lowering the shop's rating and reducing orders. Kim said, "Rainy days were truly terrifying. It was normal for daily sales to be cut in half."

A delivery rider is passing in front of a restaurant in downtown Seoul. Photo by Yonhap News

That was not the only problem. She had to purchase chicken, boxes, sauces, and pickled radish from headquarters at fixed prices. Even if flyers didn't sell, she was still required to take a set quantity every month. Kim explained, "Selling flyers to a scrap dealer only brings in a few thousand won. I was paying half my sales to headquarters, and I wondered if it was worth it."

Joint discount events on delivery apps were also the responsibility of store owners. Kim said, "Whenever there was a discount event, I had to cover 1,500 won per order. Even if daily sales reached 3 or 4 million won, at the end of the day, I was left with less than 500,000 won."

She agonized for over a year before deciding to close. Headquarters suggested converting to a dine-in restaurant, offering 70 million won for renovations and help with loans, but she refused. She judged that taking on loans for a loss-making store would only leave her in debt.

In the end, she closed her shop, which was barely 33 square meters. Kim confessed, "On the last day, as I took down the sign, I wiped my hand across the wall that still smelled of fried chicken and cried. That smell was my life, but now I don't even want to smell it again."

Like Kim, more and more self-employed people are choosing to close their businesses. According to National Tax Service statistics, the number of self-employed business closures nationwide increased from 867,292 in 2022 to 1,008,282 last year. Among these, retail and food service accounted for about 29.7% and 15.2%, respectively. Combined, these two sectors made up about 45% of all closures. The number of business owners who closed due to poor performance reached approximately 506,000.

Just before closing, her husband started working as a courier, and Kim herself also took on quick delivery jobs. She said, "You need a steady income every day to survive. Since there's nothing left from running a business, it's better to at least get a guaranteed daily wage."

Currently, she rides her motorcycle around Seoul, working as a quick delivery courier. Now, her hands are covered with dust instead of oil, and she delivers packages instead of chicken. Kim said, "Physically, it's harder, but emotionally, it's less painful. When I was running the chicken shop, no matter how hard I worked, there was nothing left."