The external issue doesn’t announce itself with drama.
It arrives the way real problems usually do. Sideways. Half-formed. Slipped into the day like a hairline fracture you don’t notice until weight is put on it. Nothing alarms at first. Nothing flashes red. It sits there, quiet and technical, waiting for the moment someone leans too hard on it.
A missed delivery.
The report comes in midmorning, tagged routine at first, buried beneath patrol notes and inventory checks. One line that shouldn’t matter and does. A supply truck rerouted. A confirmation that never came through. A window missed by hours, not days, which somehow makes it worse. Tight margins don’t forgive small errors. Hours mean assumptions. Hours mean people filling in blanks they shouldn’t.
By the time someone flags it pro
