Collect every booth fee, check every sale, and pay us for neither.
Invoice the roster, take the card, and open load-in morning with a paid-and-unpaid list instead of an argument. The statement that follows is built from money Stripe actually settled, not from what a truck told you it sold.
No fee to collect, no exclusivity, your own Stripe account. It runs beside whatever you do now.
Forty trucks, forty transfers, one spreadsheet.
You raise the invoice and then you spend three weeks chasing it. The booth fee arrives by bank transfer, in cash at the gate, and from the trader who swears it went out on Tuesday. Here the invoice is raised against the roster itself and paid by card, and the roster is what shows you who has paid — so load-in morning is a list you read down rather than a conversation you have at a gate with a queue behind it.
Nothing. Every other platform wants a percentage.
Booth fees carry no platform fee at all: the payment settles into your own Stripe account, because you are the merchant of record and we never hold your money. Sponsor slots are the same. So are the statements, the reports, the roster, the vendor brief, the paperwork and the live board on the day. There is exactly one thing on this page that carries a fee and exactly one thing you can subscribe to, and both are named further down rather than discovered later.
A percentage deal runs on the vendor's own word.
You have never had a way to verify the figure a truck reports, so a percentage of sales was a trust exercise with an invoice attached to it. This one runs on the payments. A sale counts when the truck was approved on your roster, the order was placed inside the event's own window, and the money was actually collected — so the statement is what settled through the card readers, per truck, with refunds already taken out. We produce it and you invoice against it. We never move your share ourselves.
A booth fee is usually a handshake and a bank transfer.
Write your terms once — what the pitch includes, when load-in is, what you need to see before you say yes, who is liable for what — and every invoice you raise carries them. The truck reads the document, types their name at the bottom, and pays on the same page; both of you can print it. A starter set is already written in plain English so you are not staring at an empty box, and you can edit every line of it. Terms can differ by what the vendor actually is, because a bar needs a licence clause and a craft stall does not. What a truck signed is frozen at their signature: editing your template in June cannot change what somebody agreed to in April, and the document knows if anything moved.
A free-entry festival has never been able to charge for attendance.
A passport is bought before the gates open and spends across every truck on the roster, which makes it the only ticket a free event has ever had to sell. People who have already paid turn up in light rain, and the sales pace tells you how many are coming while there is still time to book another truck. We take $1.50 of every passport, flat, whatever you price it at — the one thing here carrying a fee at all, because a passport is something we built and operate rather than money you were already owed.
You do, or the truck does, and you are the one who decides.
A passport gives its holder something off at every window, and somebody has to fund that. The share is a field on your tier and you set it before anything goes on sale: leave it at nothing and the truck carries the discount as the price of the footfall; put it at half and you reimburse half of each one out of passport revenue; put it at all of it and you carry the whole thing. Half is an example written to make the sentence concrete — not a default, and not our number. The split has never been ours to take.
A discount with no ceiling is an uncapped liability.
Every passport freezes its terms at the moment it is bought, so the most one can ever cost you is its redemption limit multiplied by your share of a single discount — and editing a tier tomorrow cannot change what you owe on what sold today. Summed across everything you have sold, that is the ceiling, and it sits on the same screen as the revenue it came out of. You know the worst case before you sell the first one, which is the only version of this that is safe to put on sale.
You have never owned your audience.
Facebook decides who sees your post and Instagram will not let you message anybody. A free event has no transaction, so nobody has ever had a reason to hand you their number. The reason is a box with your festival's name on it — unticked by default, and what gets stored is the exact wording the person agreed to alongside the moment they agreed to it. Texting them is metered, and the meter is in front of you before you send rather than on an invoice afterwards.
Two radios, a clipboard, and whoever picks up.
Check trucks in from a phone at load-in — the volunteer holding the clipboard gets an account that does that and nothing else, so nobody standing at a gate can move a fee term by accident. Watch who is open, who the queue is building behind, and what has just sold out. Write the flooded pitch and the dead fryer down at the minute they happen, because a note made on Sunday is a memory and next year's plan is built out of the ones made on Saturday.
The truck that takes the most is not always the one that filled the field.
Takings tell you who sold well to the crowd that turned up. They do not tell you who brought it. So the report separates the two: for each truck, how many of its buyers had never been to one of your events before, and how many bought at that truck and nowhere else. Those are different trucks and they earn a pitch for different reasons — the one with the queue may be feeding people you already had, and the quiet one at the far end may be the reason a hundred of them came. It says how many of your past events it checked against, because the claim is only ever true relative to that.
The screen tells you, instead of waiting to be asked.
Open your festival and the top of the page says what actually needs you this week: the four agreements still unsigned with the gates six days out, the passport selling behind where it was by this point last year, the truck that brought the most new faces and has not been invited back. Every line names the number it came from, so you can disagree with it. It will not tell you a text message caused a good Saturday — sequence is not cause, and it says so rather than drawing the arrow for you. Ask it anything else and it answers from the same figures, or says plainly that it could not read something.
Then keep it. This asks nothing of it.
There is no fee to create the account, put an event on, invite a truck or collect a booth fee, so there is nothing here to justify to a board or a committee. There is no exclusivity: a truck can trade with you here and everywhere else it already trades, and you can run one stage on this and the rest on the spreadsheet you trust. You are the merchant on your own Stripe account, so your money never passes through us and stopping is not a migration. Put the smallest event on your calendar through it and leave everything you already do standing beside it.
There is one recurring charge, and it is the list.
Booth fees, sponsor slots, statements, reports and the live board are free. A passport costs $1.50, flat, whatever you sell it for. The audience — the texts, the consent record, the meter — is the only thing here you subscribe to, and it comes in three shapes because an organizer running two festivals a year should not be paying for ten quiet months.
- Monthly$149.00 a month
For a market or a series that runs every week. 3,000 texts included, then metered.
- Annual$1,490.00 a year
The monthly plan paid up front — two months free. 3,000 texts included, then metered.
- Per event$199.00 an event
For two festivals a year, with nothing to pay in between. 3,000 texts included, then metered.
What counts as a text?
We count segments, and a segment is 160 characters of plain text. A longer message becomes more than one of them.
One message to 500 people is 500 segments — the count is per person, not per message. An emoji, or the curly apostrophe your phone types by itself, drops a segment to 70 characters, so a message that was one segment becomes two.
Above your included 3,000, every extra segment is $0.04. The composer prices the send before you tap it and charges for that send alone — never a bill you find out about weeks later.
The allowance resets every month on all three, the annual one included — a yearly bucket would let a whole year of texts go out on one Saturday, and that is precisely the send that makes people opt out.
Put your smallest event on and invite one truck.
Nothing to pay to create the account, put an event on, or collect a booth fee.