From Adair, Iowa

Give your business a wingman.

A wingman flies beside you. He sees what you can't from your seat, says it in a few words, and never touches your stick. Hank is that for a business you don't stand in all day: he reads your own records, tells you what changed and where every number came from, does the chores you hand him — and writes nothing down until you say yes.

No forms. No pitch. We come and look at how the place runs — and if it's not a fit, we say so and leave.

Monday · 6:40 AM
HHank SAMPLE

Weekend orders: 61 in, up from last week — 19 of them new households, the most since May. Nothing red. Owed to you on finished orders waiting: $28,400, still sitting since August.

where this comes fromyour store, your register, last night. Ask me anything about it.

If nothing had changed, there'd have been no message. He talks when something moved, and shuts up when it didn't.

A week with Hank.

Thursday · 3:40 PMThe chore
HHankSAMPLE
set up tomorrow's route

Built. Fourteen stops, ordered. The route invoices ride along — $8,240 total.

Two holds before you load:

Voight's standing order calls for 30 pounds of ground and the case is short until Tuesday's animal. I'd split it — 18 tomorrow, the rest next run. Change it if you want it different.

Blue Barn Kitchen is at 61 days on their balance, and your rule is nobody rides the route past sixty. Their order's picked and ready. Load it or hold it — that's yours.

Read it back

Voight's standing order, tomorrow's run: 18 pounds instead of 30, the rest on the next run. Write it?

YesNo

Read back before anything is written down.

yes. and load Blue Barn — I'll talk to them at the stop myself.

Done — the split is on their sheet, and Blue Barn is on the route with a note that the balance conversation is yours. Route sheets are on the printer.

where this comes fromyour standing orders, the case count, and every account's terms

The route built itself and the invoices rode along. The two judgment calls came to the owner instead of getting made wrong — and nothing reached the book until he said yes.

The question
HHankSAMPLE
what are we paying for bought-in beef this month?

I can't see cost — nothing in the building writes down what an animal cost you. The four places it could live are all empty.

Forward me one of this morning's tickets and I'll start the book from there.

Read it back

Reading it as twelve and a half pounds of beef at the price on the ticket, dated today. Book it in at the door?

YesNo
Yes.

Got it. Landed cost is on the board with today's date. First one you've ever had.

The letter
WThe Friday letter SAMPLE

Finished orders waiting on pickup: $28,400. It has sat there since August. That's the number this week.

Your move this week

You set days-to-pay to 14 on the 2nd — the unpaid pile moved for the first time since spring.

Hank this week: called two, missed one, couldn't tell one.

One thing only you can answer: nineteen new households ordered this weekend — was that the sign at the fair, or the route? I can't see it from here.

Made-up shop, real shape — this is Hank's own screen.

The first real Friday letters are being earned now. They'll be here as soon as their owners say so.

The first question everyone asks

“Does this even apply to my business?”

Fair question. Wingman isn't built for one industry — it's built for how running a business actually feels. Nobody has all of these. Almost nobody has none. If two or three are your week, it applies:

The same phone question answered five times a day
Money you're owed that nobody's chased in weeks
Invoices going out late because the nights got eaten
"How'd we do last month?" takes an hour to answer
Orders and jobs living on paper, whiteboards, or in one person's head
The same report rebuilt by hand every week, from the same three places
One person who knows everything — and what happens if they leave
Something you already bought to fix all this — gathering dust because nobody set it up right

Running now in a meat shop. Built next for the trades around it — dirt work, concrete, heating and plumbing, the vet, the meat shops up the road. Seven kinds of business aren't listed here because we haven't built them yet, and we won't show you a conversation we can't have with you. If your week has three of the lines above in it, the shape is the same. Ask.

Built · being built next Meat & processing Dirt work Concrete Heating & plumbing The vet

What you don't have to do.

01

Nothing to install.

He runs on your phone. We teach him your business from the paper you already have.

02

Nothing to learn.

You talk. He answers, and shows where it came from.

03

Nothing gets written without you.

He reads it back. You say yes. Then it's on the book.

04

Nothing he can't see gets guessed.

He says I can't see that, and names the one paper that would open it.

05

Nobody loses their job.

Your office keeps running the office. He keeps the numbers current and the chores off the pile. Whole thing costs less than one full-time minimum-wage hire, all in.

06

Nothing leaves.

Your records are yours. One command exports everything, any time.

How it goes

From first look to first receipt.

STEP 01

A look, not a pitch

We sit down with you — at your counter or on a call — and look at how the place actually runs, writing the numbers down as they are. No slideshow, no software talk. If Wingman isn't a fit, you'll hear it right there, with the reason.

STEP 02

A number in writing

Three options, fixed prices, and in writing: exactly what “finished” looks like — in numbers — and how many weeks it takes. Good for 14 days, so the number you act on is never stale. No hourly billing, ever.

STEP 03

We teach Hank your business

Over a few days, we teach Hank your business — the accounts, the customers, the paperwork, the way you do things. You hand over what you already have and go back to work. Week one you're asking him questions and checking his answers against your own paper — with us watching every one.

STEP 04

Fridays, for as long as we're worth it

The receipt, every Friday: the hours and dollars Hank gave back, in writing. Twenty minutes a month on what's next — and when the next idea isn't worth your money, we'll be the ones to say so. Your data stays yours, always.

Straight answers

The fine print, in large print.

What does it cost?
A fixed number in writing before any work starts, never hourly. The monthly plan covers the watching, the fixing, and the Friday receipt — nights, weekends, and holidays included. If the scope grows, the price gets re-agreed out loud; it doesn't quietly swell. The whole board, every piece of it running at once, costs less than one full-time minimum-wage hire, all in. Your number comes in writing before you've committed a dime, and the receipt tells you every week, in dollars, whether it's earning its keep.
Are those conversations real?
The shop is made up. The shape is the one running now — in a meat shop, on its owner's own records. Every name and number above is invented; we won't put a customer's book on a website, and we won't rent you somebody else's success story. Ask, and you'll see the real version on yours.
How do I know it's working?
We measure before we build. "Done" means a number moved against that baseline — and the Friday receipt keeps measuring, every week after, in hours and dollars.
What if it breaks?
It's watched around the clock, and most fixes happen before you notice anything. That reliability is what the monthly plan buys — a service you can cancel, not a promise you have to trust.
What about my data?
Yours. All of it. One command exports everything in open formats, any time, no questions — if we ever part ways, you leave with every number you came with and every one we added. Day to day, your records live in their own locked room on the platform, where no other business can see them. And any time we touch your setup for support, it's logged — ask, and you'll see the whole trail. Got sharper questions — hosting, backups, the what-ifs? Ask; you'll get plain answers in writing before anyone asks you to commit.
Who do I call when something's off?
A person — the one who built your setup. Not a ticket queue, not a call center, not a phone tree.
Early, on purpose

Wingman is young — you won't find borrowed logos or rented testimonials here. The first Friday receipts are being earned right now, and they'll be shown here as fast as their owners allow. What early businesses get instead is more of us: faster answers, first say on what gets built next, and your shop treated as the proof. The price never changes for going early. The attention does.

Who's behind it

A person, not a portal.

Wingman

Adair, Iowa

Wingman is built and run in Adair, Iowa. Behind it are 25 years of enterprise systems — most of it clinical software running across a multi-site hospital network, where "it went down" is not an acceptable sentence, and where the real job is getting many locations to run the same way without a person in each one holding it together by hand.

If you own a business, that last part should sound familiar.

The first business we put a wingman in was a meat shop, because if it works there it works anywhere.

We build end to end — software, hardware, and the connections in between. Wingman exists so the capability the Fortune 500 is buying by the billion shows up at businesses like yours, with an accountable human being attached to it.

"If we can't measure it, we don't sell it."
Talk to a person

Wondering how it'd land in yours?

The first conversation is a look around your week, not a pitch. You'll get a number in writing — and if it isn't a fit, you'll hear that first, with the reason.

Wingman · Adair, Iowa