Hi, I'm Tamaya.

The stage years

I trained in performing arts and, for a long time, believed that was my calling. I became a professional choreographer, director and producer, and for ten years I owned and operated my own performing arts company. My early twenties were spent in rehearsal rooms, on regional tours, and teaching young performers — from six-year-olds to adults — how to find themselves inside the beautiful chaos of drama.

I became known for a self-developmental approach to the craft. I wasn't just trying to create the next Nicole Kidman or Chris Hemsworth. I wanted to help shape our future mothers, fathers, and people in our community. I loved watching a shy, clever child grow in confidence and deliver a solo at the end-of-year gala. I loved seeing a withdrawn boy who'd been bullied at school finally find his people and begin to accept who he was. Those years taught me more about who I am, and who I choose to be, than almost anything else. Only now can I truly claim the mastery of those lessons. Performing arts is a constant study of self and emotion. You learn to understand yourself so you can use parts of yourself at will.

The accidental career

The irony is that from the day I left home at sixteen until now, I was always working in hospitality. I never fully trusted that the arts could give me financial certainty, so hospitality became the career I was quietly building while I pursued the one I loved. I found success with my company, but more importantly I discovered business. And lo and behold, it became my secret obsession. The need to understand how to make money from what I loved sent me searching for answers — and that search is still my journey today.

I made every mistake. I made a lot of money and lost even more. I went to China and created my own dancewear line and ballet shoes. I built a Matcha tea company while pregnant with my first child. I opened cafes and restaurants with the accumulated knowledge of more than twenty years of hospitality management, only to realise there was still so much I didn't know.

What I did discover was that I truly loved creating businesses, and that my expertise in hospitality ran deeper than I'd realised. After running high-turnover venues and helping open numerous cafes and restaurants for others, I finally had enough knowledge to start building them for myself.

Three venues, seven openings, two near-collapses

Over the next decade I opened a café, a restaurant, and the first store of a new franchise concept — cafes, a small restaurant, a gelato bar, and a pizza joint. I sold one, bought one, and am still creating new concepts. I learned to read a P&L like a script, to roster to demand, to hire for character and train for skill. Most importantly, I learned how to leave the venue at 5pm and trust the team to finish the show.

Why coaching

Around 2021 I started informally helping other owners. First friends, then friends of friends, then strangers introduced by their accountants. The same problems appeared every time: great food, great vibe, no system. Owners burning out. Teams adrift. Numbers nobody looked at until BAS time. I realised the help I'd needed at twenty-six — practical, honest guidance from someone who'd actually done it — barely existed. So I built it. Hospo Mojo is what I wish I'd had: a real mentor with calloused hands and an opinion, who will get in the trenches with you and not let you stay there.

What I believe

• Culture is a system you choose, not a feeling you hope for.
• Most "people problems" are actually role-clarity problems.
• If you can't take a Saturday off, you don't own a business — you own a job.
• Numbers don't lie, but they don't tell the whole story either.
• Hospitality, done right, is one of the most generous things humans do for each other.

Off the clock

Off the clock I live in Lismore with my partner, two kids, and one beautiful miniature poodle who runs the house. I'm always building new business concepts and writing killer scripts. I'm a sucker for a coffee break, I love trying new cafes, and I still sing in the car. Loudly.