Twelve chapters, each one built on a scene you've stood in — the room nobody walked, the green dashboard, the plate that came back. Every chapter breaks a belief this industry holds without question, then ends with the work: what to fix, who owns it, and where in the day it happens. No theory you can't use by three-thirty tomorrow.
Written for the person who already runs the building and can't say why it's good on the nights it's good. Not a culture book — those are useless at seven-forty on a Tuesday with two callouts. Not a systems binder either, the kind that stays clean on the shelf. It sits between them, at the layer that decides whether the heroics are needed at all.