Give your business a wingman.

Built. Fourteen stops, ordered, sheets on the printer. 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 split it — 18 tomorrow, the rest next run — and their sheet says so. 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.

Done — it's on the sheet, with a note that the balance conversation is yours.

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

Custom work was 58% of the animals that came through last year and 31% of the margin.

Your own beef — the case, online, and the route — was 42% of the animals and 69% of the margin.

Per animal, custom nets about $310 after the hours. Your own, taken all the way to the case, nets about $1,240.

The part that's harder to see: custom work sets the calendar. Kill days, cut days, cooler space — all built around it. So when your own cattle are ready, they go in the gaps.

I can get you close. I can't get you exact, and I'd rather say so.

On last year's hours, the extra time on your own cattle runs about $14 an animal. But that's built on the shop's average labor cost, not the cut room's.

You've never given me what an hour in the cut room actually costs. So treat the $14 as a guess with my name on it, not a number I'd stand behind.

Give me that one figure and I'll have the real number before lunch.

where this comes fromlast year's hours; labor priced at the shop average, not the cut room's

Built — nine of them, $612,000 for the month. Ready to go out tonight.

Every one is matched: quantities against the delivery tickets, the extras against signed change orders, and the 5% they hold carried forward job by job. That's $148,000 held across the nine, and I keep the running total on each application so nobody has to reconstruct it at closeout.

Two waivers are still outstanding — the rebar supplier on Ridgeview and one of your own subs on the school addition. Both are drafted and waiting on signatures. I'd chase them before Friday — a missing waiver is the usual reason one of these sits on somebody's desk for a month.

One I'm holding, and I want you to agree before it goes: the Harding job. Twelve hundred feet of flatwork is placed and finished, but the inspection hasn't cleared, and billing placed-but-unaccepted work on that owner's contract starts a clock you'd rather not start. It's ready the day the inspection clears.

Send the other eight?

where this comes fromthe month's delivery tickets, signed change orders, and every job's payment record

On the daily logs, 31 pieces of extra work across 19 jobs — poured, finished, written down by your own crews, and never turned into a change order.

I can price 22 of them: $58,400, at what you charged for the same work elsewhere.

The other nine I can't price, and I won't make up a number for them. The logs say what happened. They don't say what it was worth.

Two of the 22 are on jobs still open.

Drafted — both change orders are in your review pile with the log pages and photos attached. $6,900 between them. The closed jobs are a judgment call; that list is ready when you want it.

where this comes fromtwo years of daily logs against the signed change orders

I'll give you a number. Understand it's a recommendation, not a fact.

Your last six of these averaged 19% gross. On the three where you priced finishing at book rate, the finishing hours ran over every time — that's the pattern I'd correct for.

If it were mine, I'd bid it at $487,400 — your costs as they actually came in, 21 points on top, and the schedule risk priced rather than absorbed.

Here's what moves that number more than my arithmetic does, and I can't see any of it: how hungry you are this quarter, whether Merle's crew is free in November, and what you'd walk away from. You can. So take the $487,400 as the floor of the conversation, not the end of it.

Want me to run it at 18 and 24 points so you can see the whole range?

where this comes fromyour last six jobs of that type, hours and costs

$214,000 across forty-six closed jobs. $72,000 is ordinary aging — thirty to sixty days, retail customers who pay.

$118,000 is held back by carriers until the work is proved. Twenty-two jobs, and on thirteen of them nobody ever sent the paperwork that releases it.

Nine are past the window. That money is gone.

For the thirteen still alive, the release packets are assembled — completion photos, certificates, the forms each carrier wants. Thirteen folders, ready. Five cross the window inside sixty days: I'm telling you what's assembled and what's coming up on a date. The deadlines stay with you.

where this comes fromforty-six job files, your photo folders, and the deposit record

One, and it's big.

Jobs sold in the three weeks after a storm take 44 days longer to close out than everything else, and they carry 2.4 times the extra work.

It isn't a crew — it's even across all three. It isn't a neighborhood and it isn't a product.

What those jobs share is that they were scoped fast, in volume, off a roof somebody walked in a hurry.

You keep winning those jobs and you keep bleeding on the back end. That reads like a scoping problem, not a crew problem — but that's your judgment, not mine.

Done. Every job sold inside three weeks of a storm gets flagged before it hits the schedule, with the file open on your desk. Who walks the roof twice is yours to pick.

where this comes fromevery job of the last two years, tagged to the week it sold

Done. Finished, ten days, no invoice — I'll bring it up with the job, the crew, and the last thing anybody wrote on it.

Right now that's four. Two are sitting with Deb and she knows about them.

The third was finished March 19th and nobody has touched it since. That isn't a slow bill. That's a job that fell out of the pile.

The fourth has a bank in it, so the money comes in thirds and the next inspection is the gate, not the invoice.

One thing to be clear about: I'm telling you what's gone quiet. I'm not tracking whether anything is late, and I'm not counting anybody's deadlines for them. That stays with you.

where this comes fromyour job list against the invoices, every morning at six

Done — here's what that takes, and what's already ready.

Every morning by seven: the day's schedule with an estimate prepared for each planned treatment — what the plan pays, what the patient's portion is, one sheet at each front desk.

Today's is built: 41 visits, nine with treatment planned, nine estimates attached. Two of the nine I didn't finish — that plan's fee schedule changed last month and I won't guess at it. They're flagged for Sue Ann to check first.

It's counts and dollars only — no charts, nothing clinical. The desk hands the number over. That part stays human.

where this comes fromthe schedule, each plan's fee tables, and last year's payments — no chart data, by design

$1,240,000 across the three offices. Diagnosed, presented, never booked.

That's about 18% of what you produced. It isn't lost — most of it is still standing.

And one thing separates it: unscheduled treatment is 2.3 times higher when the patient left without a number for their own portion. Same doctors, same procedures, same offices.

I don't know why. Could be the software, could be who's at the desk that day, could be that the hard cases are the ones the estimate isn't ready for. I only know the two move together.

Built — every patient with standing treatment, newest first, with the estimate ready to hand over when they call back. It's on Vicki's desk. Who calls, and what gets said — that's the desk's, not mine.

where this comes fromlast year's treatment plans against the schedule — counts and dollars only, no chart data

That one I won't answer. A valuation depends on things I don't have, and you should hear it from somebody who does that for a living and has nothing to sell you.

Here's what I can hand whoever comes next. Three years of production and collection by office, by provider, by procedure. What each plan actually pays. What a chair hour costs. What a new patient is worth at one year, two, and three.

And when Lorna hands the office over, how this place runs is written down instead of in her head — credited to the people who knew it.

where this comes fromthree years of production and collections — no chart data, by design

Done by lunch. The shape of it first:

$174,000 of prepay from two seasons back, sitting as credit on nine accounts. Some of those growers don't know it's there. It's money you're holding that isn't yours to forget.

Ready now: nine letters drafted for your signature — each grower's balance, where it came from, and a plain line asking what they want done with it. Nothing mails until you've read every one.

And the seed-book list is on Ty's desk: sixteen growers who bought last year and haven't booked, each with their history and their usual acres. Books close in six weeks.

On your Friday receipt, both of them, word for word.

where this comes fromtwo seasons of prepay against every account, plus the seed book

You serve 63,000. You're the primary on 39,000.

The other 24,000 belongs to growers who buy from you in a pattern — a late order, a short window, usually the second or third week of the spring push. Twelve growers, and last year every one of them called inside four days of each other.

You're their overflow. When the big supplier's book fills, they call here.

Those acres are 14% of your revenue and they land in the eleven days you're already tightest. They're also why the rigs sat waiting on tenders — scattered ground, further out, small blocks.

I'm not saying turn it down. I'm saying you've been counting your worst-timed, most-scattered acres as growth, and they're somebody else's spillover.

Flagged. Next spring the crunch shows them first — so the overflow waits on your say, not the other way around.

where this comes fromevery order date against every grower's total book, four seasons

That one I won't answer, and I don't think you'd want me to. It's a label question with a regulator attached, and it belongs to a person with a license and a name on it. I've routed it to Wade.

What I can tell you: four different people have asked me some version of that this year. There's no written answer anywhere in the company, so every one of them ended up at Wade's desk.

When Wade answers, I'll write it down where everyone can find it — so the next new hire asks me, and Wade gets his afternoon back.

where this comes fromfour internal questions this year, and no written policy on file

Built. Four pieces:

The agenda, with the three items that actually moved since last month on top.

Open matters by rep — what's active, what's waiting on the department, and the one that came in eleven days ago with no rep assigned yet.

The five entities reconciled — association, charity, chapter, honor society, PAC — every account to the dollar, with two transfers flagged for Arlene that need board minutes behind them.

And the treasurer's quarterly filing, drafted, in her pile. She reviews it, she files it. Not me.

One more thing in the back of the pack: this local has had four presidents in twelve years, and every one started over. What's in here is written down now, credited to the people who knew it.

It's at the top — with the intake date and the last thing anybody wrote.

where this comes fromthe matter files, five sets of books, and the meeting record

One, and it's large.

Thirty-six percent of Step 1 filings over two years cite the same provision — the callback and overtime-assignment language.

Seventy-four matters, from every station and every shift — so it isn't a supervisor and it isn't a battalion.

Fifty-eight of the seventy-four were resolved in the member's favor. You keep winning the same argument.

That reads like contract language rather than conduct — the same disagreement, over and over, because the words allow it. But that's a bargaining judgment, and it's yours.

A one-page summary is drafted — the filings, the language, the win rate. It's in the committee's pack for the next session. The argument is yours to make; the record's ready to carry it.

where this comes fromevery filing of the last two years, tagged to the article it cites

Done. Seven days, no recorded activity, open matter — I'll surface it with the case, the rep, and the last thing anybody wrote.

Right now that's three. Two are ordinary; the member's waiting on the department.

The third came in eleven days ago and still has no rep assigned. That isn't a quiet case. That's a case nobody has picked up.

One thing to be clear about: quiet isn't late, and I'm not tracking whether anything is late. I'm telling you what's gone still. The grievance chair owns the clocks, same as he always has.

And the other line I'd rather say before anybody asks: I hold service dates, assignments, and what's in the record. I hold nothing about anybody's health, and I don't want to. That isn't a limit I'd want removed.

where this comes fromopen matters with no recorded activity, refreshed every morning

Last night's closed out. $34,600 — bar $19,400, kitchen $8,900, gate $6,300. Labor as actually worked: 37%.

Done while you slept:

The band settlement sheet — the guarantee against the gate count, ready for when their manager calls at noon.

Friday's deliveries matched to invoices. The meat order came in 40 pounds light and the invoice doesn't say so — flagged, note drafted, in your pile.

The comps log, assembled by shift, reasons typed on every ticket.

And the 31 private-event inquiries from this year are finally one list, with dates and sizes. Eleven are for this fall. Somebody should own that inbox this week.

Noted — the list is in her morning pack with that at the top.

where this comes fromthe register, the door count, the invoices, and the schedule as worked

Friday grosses the most — about $36,000. Saturday grosses around $29,000.

Saturday keeps more. Friday runs 39% labor, Saturday 31%. The arena nights need the whole door crew, two extra behind the bar and the pen help — and while the rounds are running the bar goes quiet. People are watching.

Per dollar of labor, Saturday is your best night by a wide margin. Friday is third.

I'd be careful with that, though. A lot of Saturday's crowd first came on a Friday. The gate isn't really a revenue line. It's the thing that fills Saturday.

It'll be on your Friday receipt — every night, gross against kept, twelve months back, so the calendar argues with numbers instead of memories.

where this comes fromthe register, the door count, and the schedule as it was actually worked

I'll give you the number. I won't give you that answer.

Comps on one bartender's shifts run about three times the floor average. That's a number, not a conclusion. It could be he works the nights the regulars come. It could be he's covering kitchen mistakes. It could be a dozen things, and somebody should look before anyone decides.

What I've done: every comped ticket for the period is queued for you — time, item, and the reason typed on it — so you're looking at the same thing he is.

Handing you a reason to be suspicious of somebody isn't my job.

where this comes fromevery comped ticket for the period, with time, item and stated reason