Stock moves, the sheet doesn’t. By the time counting ends, the number’s wrong — so reordering is a guess.

Collect, clean, build the sheet, send it. Every cycle, again. Not hard — just never-ending.

Who paid, who complained, what was promised — if he’s off a week, the business forgets.

Orders, handoffs, approvals — buried in threads that vanish when someone leaves.

Three versions, two people editing, one number that sets pricing — different in each copy.

You paid for that enquiry. It sat in an inbox for six days and closed itself.

Invoices, receipts, who owes what — collected from everywhere, all at once.

Bookings live in a calendar, a notebook, and someone’s memory. All three disagree.

Every re-entry is a chance to fat-finger a number someone else will trust.