I came in early with a headache that wasn’t from whiskey. The “overheard” post had been trimmed, but the damage was in my ribs. Lesson learned. Say less when tired. Choose the room.
At nine, I sent a message to the whole team:
Audit Amnesty, today 2–4 in Ops Corner.
Bring anything broken. No blame. We’ll make a plan and put names on nothing except the fix.
I added a sign-up sheet with ten slots. It filled in twelve minutes.
Maya slid a coffee onto my desk like a bribe. “You’re starting a clinic.”
“I’m starting control,” I said.
“Same thing,” she said, pleased.
Before lunch, I built three tiny status notes for three different people who loved to “check in.” Each note had the same gist, each tucked in one harmless phrase that was different: “parking tickets,” “tangled cables,” “white
