The owner
Saturday made money.
You will hear about it
on Monday.
Most valet companies run their biggest night blind and reconcile it two days later, out of an envelope and somebody's memory.
The unit of the business
A car is not a car.
It is a session with
a name on it.
A time, a price, a plate, a bay, and the person who touched it at every step. Not a stub in a jacket pocket.
While it is still happening
The shift closes itself.
Card, cash and tips, plus the three things that usually go unrecorded: what was voided, what was comped, what somebody validated.
Where the money goes
Your revenue is not what the guest paid.
Tips are your team's money. The guest convenience fee is not yours either. What is left is the only number labor may be subtracted from.
Per location
Which drives pay for themselves.
Revenue less labor, ranked, best and worst. A location with no pay rates set is shown with no margin at all, because it does not have one yet.
Before you act on it
Real, or just noise?
A number that moved inside two standard deviations of its own history did not move. The screen says so instead of coloring it green.
New money
One car.
Twelve months.
A permit is a right that hangs off a plate. Priced by the day, the week or the month, and billed on repeat.
The driver can carry it. Their building can carry it. Or a contract can, with a floor and a ceiling on the month. The same plate cannot hold two of them.
When a guest disputes a charge
The evidence is already assembled.
Not a folder somebody builds on the deadline. The report writes itself the moment the dispute is reported, out of records the shift already made.
The rule that makes it worth reading
Unknown is never a sentence.
A document that goes to a bank cannot guess. If a fact could not be verified, the sentence that would have carried it is simply not in the report.
Before it reaches the bank
The guest sees it first.
The same document, sent by text. Most disputes are somebody failing to recognize one line on a statement, and this is where that ends.
The leaderboard
An instrument that
happens to look
like a game.
It never scores tips or revenue, because points that convert to money are wages. It never scores speed, in a garage full of other people's cars. And nothing ever subtracts.
You set the weights. Your crew can read them.
One system, not three
The vendor bill you
stop paying.
Schedule the week, punch the shift, approve the period, export the file. Overtime and blended rates across locations are worked out on the way.
Seen enough of this one?
Pick the part you
actually care about.
The same operation, seen from five sides.
Thirty minutes
Bring us your worst location.
We will build a real week on it, price the labor against what it took, and show you the Saturday you have been reading about on Monday.