Friday, quarter past nine, six people on a corner two hundred metres away. Someone opens Maps, filters to open now, and scrolls. Three venues, three sets of photos. Yours shows an empty room in daylight from the week you opened.
The room they picked is not better than yours. You know it is not, because half your regulars used to drink there. They won a comparison that took eleven seconds and involved no drinks at all.
So the midweek trade thins out first, because the people deciding midweek are exactly the ones deciding on a screen. You add a quiz night to fix it, and nobody searching “quiz night near me” ever finds out it exists.
Then the group of twenty who booked their Christmas do at the place down the road turn out to have searched “bars for private hire [city]” in October, seen a page with a capacity and a contact form, and never considered you.