The unglamorous kind: what gets baked, where an order is, what the shelf should hold on a Tuesday. I work alone, I ship to people who will tell me at five in the morning when something is wrong, and everything on this page is running somewhere.
Most of it came out of one shop. A family-run bakery in Miami kept asking for one more thing, and eighteen months later it was an operating system.
Set it up the way you’d want it — move a panel and the wall follows →
Setting up the counter…
A working slice of Store Boss, a native iOS app built and shipped for the counter staff at Reysy’s. Scenarios, grading rules, coaching text and tip maths come across from it unchanged. A shift here is six customers instead of fifteen, with the verdict thresholds scaled to match.
Three of them you can operate here. The logic is lifted from the systems running in the shop; the numbers are sample data, because a shop’s sales figures and customer records are not mine to publish. The way to judge any of it is to open one and try to break it.
The shop closes for two weeks. Everything keeps selling until the door shuts, then nothing gets made until it opens. What comes out of the oven first, and how much?
The baker never learns a forecasting tool. They open it, see how many trays of what, and go bake. The judgement lives in the system so it does not have to live in somebody’s head at four in the morning.
Nobody picks a status. Put an order on the shelf at a door and it marks itself Ready; add a tracking number and it marks itself Shipped. Record what happened, and the board is never wrong.
The counter keeps doing what the counter already does. The board keeps itself straight underneath — including on a Saturday with four people touching the same order.
Orders, the oven queue and anything that has run below floor — on a screen you can read across a room, and spoken out loud when it matters, so nobody has to be standing in front of it to catch the thing that just went wrong.
It shows what this shop looks at, arranged the way this shop thinks. When what matters changes — a new season, a new product, a new problem — the wall changes with it.
Everything above came out of one shop. These two did not.
Not generic AI advice. Give it a real situation and it returns the trade space, a concession ladder, a pressure map and sentences for the actual room. Read a full worked example, then throw something hard at it.
You describe the situation the way you would to a colleague. It comes back with your leverage, what to trade and in what order, and the sentences to say — not a summary of what you just told it.
Autonomous maritime platforms — a carrier that deploys and recharges uncrewed surface vehicles on station, extending mission endurance without putting people on the water.
The bakery is not my business. It is a family-run shop, and each system had to earn the next one before anybody asked for it.
What changed for them: they know what to bake before they bake it. Orders stop getting lost between the counter and the oven. Nobody has to remember to move a card on a board. The shelf says when it is running low, out loud, while there is still time to do something about it.
Every one of these started as something somebody said out loud in a shop. If you have that kind of problem — a thing your people carry in their heads, on paper, or not at all — that is the work I want.