Ep 6. Seven-Eleven, Nucor, Frito-Lay & Li & Fung: Four Operating Systems, One Discipline.

In this episode, we analyze four companies in four different industries with one core discipline that differentiates them from their competitors. We break down how Seven-Eleven Japan engineered a convenience store replenishment system so precise it killed the bullwhip effect in a 10,000-store network. How Ken Iverson of Nucor Steel ran a four-billion-dollar steel company from a 22-person headquarters and compounded earnings at 17% per year in one of the worst industries in the world. How Frito-Lay built and defended a 15,000-route direct delivery network that most CFOs would have outsourced — and why that "expensive" decision is the source of their shelf dominance. And how a 100-year-old Hong Kong trading house turned supply chain orchestration itself into the product, without owning a single factory.

Show Notes 

Companies Referenced

Seven-Eleven Japan built a distribution network so precise it eliminated the bullwhip effect across 10,000 stores. Real demand, visible to every supplier simultaneously. Combined distribution centres with four temperature zones. Delivery frequency matched to weather, season, and time of day. By 2002: 21% of convenience store locations in Japan, 31% of total sector sales.

Nucor Steel ran a $4 billion business from a 22-person headquarters. CEO Ken Iverson chose electric arc furnaces over blast furnaces in 1968 — when the integrated mills laughed at him. He built decentralised profit centres, tied worker compensation directly to shift output, and compounded per-share earnings at 17% per annum for 30 years. In steel. One of the worst industries ever invented. Bethlehem Steel went bankrupt. Nucor is now the largest steel producer in the United States with $30.7B in 2024 revenue.

Frito-Lay operates 15,000 delivery routes and visits approximately 500,000 retail locations every week. They own the last mile — not because it's cheap, but because whoever owns the shelf owns the category. Their drivers are also their merchandisers and their market intelligence network.

Li & Fung — founded in Guangzhou in 1906 — built a business that owns no factories, no ships, no warehouses. Just relationships with 7,500 suppliers across 40 countries and the expertise to orchestrate them into reliable supply chains for Western retailers who don't want to manage that complexity themselves. They proved that the margin isn't in the manufacturing. It's in the coordination.

The Four Dimensions 

1. Precision (Seven-Eleven Japan) — information fidelity and response speed; when you can see actual demand and coordinate every node around it simultaneously, you eliminate waste, improve availability, and reduce cost — at the same time
2. Structure (Nucor Steel) — organisational design and technology selection as integrated choices; the structure you build either amplifies or undermines the technology you adopt
3. Presence (Frito-Lay) — physical proximity to the customer and point of sale as competitive moat; the distribution network is also the merchandising force, the intelligence network, and the barrier to entry
4. Orchestration (Li & Fung) — expert coordination of complexity others cannot or will not build themselves; when manufacturing capacity is commoditised, the scarce resource is the judgment to assemble it

Sources & Further Reading

• Chopra, S. (2003). Seven-Eleven Japan Co. Kellogg School of Management Case Study, Northwestern University.
• Iverson, K. & Varian, T. (1998). Plain Talk: Lessons from a Business Maverick. John Wiley & Sons.
• Frito-Lay North America Fact Sheet, PepsiCo (2019). Available via PepsiCo corporate website.
• "Frito-Lay bucks the trend of supply chain simplification." Supply Chain Dive, July 2021.
• Li & Fung corporate disclosures and Harvard Business School case study materials.
• "Li & Fung: Battling the Global Supply Chain Challenge." The Case Centre, London Business School.
• "Culture Eats Strategy: Nucor's Ken Iverson." Farnam Street, drawing from HBR and contemporaneous annual reports.
• Nucor Corporation 2024 Annual Report (public filing).

Operational Velocity is for education and general information only and is not investment, financial, legal, or tax advice, and nothing in it is a recommendation to buy or sell any security. The views expressed are the host's own, the company and figures discussed are drawn from public sources believed reliable but not guaranteed, and you should do your own research and consult a qualified professional before making any decision.

Transcript

SPEAKER_00 0:10

Great returns aren't luck. They're built on the floor. Operators and investors always pushing for more from the deal sheets signed to the systems in place. Speed without precision is just running a race. Operational velocity where execution sets the pace.

SPEAKER_01 0:25

Welcome to Operational Velocity. Let me ask you a question. Do you know who the best operators in the world are? They're not necessarily the ones on the covers of the business magazines, and they're not the ones giving TED Talks about operational disruptions. And they're not even necessarily the ones you've studied in business school. They're the ones who looked at their supply chain, their own production floor, their own distribution network, and said, this is the weapon, and this is how we win. And then they built that weapon so well, so precisely, so relentlessly that by the time their competitors figured out what was happening, it was over. And uh I spent roughly 35 years inside companies, fixing operations, integrating acquisitions, and trying to understand why some organizations seem to turn complexity into rocket fuel while others just drown in it. So, this episode, we're not necessarily talking about private equity. We're not talking about portfolio companies or value creation in the fund context, though everything we cover today absolutely plies there. Today we're going to be talking about publicly traded, globally recognizable companies that chose consciously, deliberately, to make operations and supply chain their primary competitive weapon. Not their product, not their brand, and not their capital structure, but their operations. And I've deliberately chosen four cases that you may not hear every 10 minutes in supply chain circles, not the Amazons of the world, Walmart's, Toyota's, or the Zahras. We know they're all brilliant, all well documented on every business school syllabus globally. I think these four are a little less celebrated and in some ways more instructive. So today we're going to look at four companies: New Core Steel, Fried O Leh, Lai Fung, and 7-Eleven Japan. Four companies, four industries, one consistent lesson. When operations become your core competency rather than your cost center, you just don't survive your market, you define it. So let's go. Let me start with another question to kick off this segment. When you walk into a convenience store, what are you actually buying? You think you're buying a rice ball, a coffee, a bottle of water, but you're not. You're buying the certainty that that rice ball will be there, that it will be fresh, that the right temperature has been maintained from the moment it was produced to the moment you put it in your hand. That the store stocked the right item for this time of day, this weather, and this neighborhood. That is a supply chain product, not a food product. And 7-Eleven Japan understood this in the 1970s. And that understanding that the product you're actually selling is operational reliability, built the largest and most profitable convenience store chain in Japanese retail history. So if we go back in history, 7-Eleven Japan launched in 1974 under a licensing agreement with the U.S. Southland Corporation. And by 1991, the Japanese operation had become so dominant that it acquired its American licensor outright. So let that land for a moment. The student bought the teacher. But the real story isn't the brand, it's the distribution system that was built beneath it. In 1974, the average 7-Eleven store in Japan received 770 separate vehicle deliveries per day from 70 different suppliers. Each vendor shows up with their product. The store manager essentially manages a loading dock as a full-time job. And by 1994, that number was 11. Same assortment, same freshness standards, better availability, lower cost. 70 to 11 in 20 years. That is operational discipline in measurable form. So how do you go from 70 vehicles to 11 without degrading the product? You invent the combined distribution center. And that's what 7-Eleven Japan call the CDC. And here's the mechanism. Inside of each supplier delivering directly to each store, which is how every convenience store in the world was run at the time, 7-Eleven built dedicated distribution centers that served exclusively their network. Not a third-party logistics hub serving 20 clients, dedicated, 7-Eleven only. And at the CDCs, products from multiple suppliers were consolidated onto single temperature controlled trucks, organized not by supplier, but by temperature zone. Four temperature zones to be exact. Each zone, its own truck, each truck making multi-stop delivery runs to a cluster of stores. Chilled item, sandwiches, dairy, fresh prepared foods were delivered three times per day. Rice dishes, three times daily since 1987. Frozen, three to seven times per week, adjusted for season, because we know that ice cream sells differently in August than in February. And room temperature processed goods, once daily, and the system could flex. And critically, none of these distribution centers held any inventory. They were flow-through nodes. Products arrived from supplier trucks, were sorted and loaded onto 7-Eleven delivery trucks, so there were no warehouse, no holding costs, no bumper stock, creating its own demand signal distortion. That is lean logistics before lean logistics was a buzzword. But here's what most people miss when they talk about 7-Eleven Japan. The distribution system wasn't the innovation. The information system was. You see, every store was equipped with a graphical order terminal, and every store had cutoff times for breakfast, lunch, and dinner ordering. So when a store manager placed an order informed by the point of sale data, weather data, local events calendar, and their own read of the day, that order was transmitted simultaneously to the supplier and to the distribution center. The supplier started production, the distribution center prepared the delivery routing, and the two streams synchronized at the CDC, and the truck went out. Every day, multiple times a day. Each week, approximately 100 new products were introduced across the chain, and about 70% of all SKU stockkeeping units turned over in the course of a year. Because if a product wasn't selling, it was eliminated and replaced. So there's no sentimentality, no slow bleed of dead stock. And because 7-Eleven's information system captured real customer purchasing data, actual transactions, and not forecast, it transmitted it back to the manufacturers in real time, and the entire supply chain responded to what customers were actually buying, not what someone in a planning meeting predicted they would buy three months ago. So if you've ever studied the bull whip effect, and I teach the bull whip effect to my students, it's the way small demand fluctuations at a retail level get amplified into enormous swings upstream in production and inventory. And this is the antidote. Actual demand visible to every node in the supply chain simultaneously. That's one way to mitigate the bull whip effect. One thing about 7-Eleven Japan that gets underappreciated is that they didn't expand randomly. They used a market concentration strategy before entering a new area. They would open a minimum cluster of stores, and the academic causes cite 50 or more stores in a given region before establishing the supporting distribution infrastructure. Why? Because the economics of the combined distribution center only work at density. If you have three stores scattered across a prefecture, the milk run route to serve them is inefficient. If you have 50 stores clustered within a tight geography, a single CDC can serve them all with a short, reliable, cost-effective runs. So the real estate strategy and the supply chain strategy were the same decision. Density wasn't about brand dominance, it was about making the distribution unit economics work. That, my friends, is systems thinking. And most retail chains make their site selection decisions in isolation from their logistics planning. 7-Eleven Japan made them as one integrated choice. And by 2002, they held 31% of total Japanese convenience store sales from 21% of the locations. Higher revenue per store, better margins, not because of the product, but because of the system underneath it. So if the 7-Eleven Japan is a story about precision, New Core Steel is a story about courage. The courage to look at an industry that was structured in one way, the way it had been structured for 100 years, and say, we're going to do it completely differently. And then execute that conviction so completely for so long that the old industry couldn't adapt fast enough to survive. So if we look at the history, in the mid-1960s, the Nuclear Corporation of America was by any reasonable assessment in serious trouble. The company had stumbled through a series of unsuccessful diversification attempts, and it was losing money. So the then CEO Ken Iverson, an aeronautical engineer by training, who tells you something about the way he thought about systems, made a radical decision. And by 1968, Iverson invested in electric arc furnace technology, or EAF steelmaking. At the time, this was considered rough, low end of the steel business. The integrated steel mills, like U.S. Steel, Bethlehem, the Giants, they used blast furnaces, iron ore, and massive capital-intensive plants. They looked at mini mills with something between contempt and pity. But that contempt was the best gift they ever gave Nucor. Electric arc furnace technology takes recycled scrap metal and melts it using high voltage electricity. So there's no iron ore, no coking coal, and no blast furnacing, which requires weeks to heat up or cool down. And the implications for operations were extremely profound. First, the startup and shutdown flexibility. A blast furnace is essentially always on. Shutting one down and restarting it is operationally catastrophic. An electric arc furnace can be powered down and maintained and restarted on a cycle that matches demand. So when steel prices fall, you can idle capacity without destroying it. And when demand spikes, you can respond. This is responsiveness that the integrated mills structurally could not replicate. And second, the cost structure. Scrap metal cost a fraction of virgin iron ore. And electricity, particularly in regions with competitive power markets, was far cheaper than coal and coke required for traditional steel making, so Nucore could produce steel at a dramatically lower conversion cost per ton. And the third main thing is geographic flexibility. You don't need to be near an iron ore deposit or a port for bulk raw material imports. You need to be near scrap metal and near customers. Nucore placed its mills near industrial regions that generated scrap and near customers that needed steel. And this minimized inbound and outbound logistics costs simultaneously. But Nucor's operational advantage wasn't just technological, it was structural. And this is the part that Ken Iverson gets right that almost no one in manufacturing has ever replicated cleanly. Iverson ran Nucor from a headquarters of 22 people for a $4 billion business. 22. You have startups with more people in finance. How, you may ask? Because the divisions actually ran by themselves. Each plant manager, each mill operated as an independent profit center, and they sourced their own scrap. They set their own production quotas, they hired and trained their own workforce, they found their own customers, and corporates set one primary financial target: a minimum of 25% return on assets under management. Everything else was a divisions problem to solve. Keep divisions below 400 to 500 people. Beyond that, management loses connection with the workforce. And the idea stopped flowing and bureaucracy starts flowing down. The compensation system reinforced this. Production workers at Newcore Mills had a base wage that was deliberately set below industry average. But performance bonuses tied directly to the tonnage produced by their shift above quality thresholds could double or triple that base. So if the shift produced defective steel, the bonus was zero, not reduced, zero. This is the model. You carry the risk, you earn the upside. And that's how you get a steel worker motivated to maintain quality and push throughput without a supervisor standing over them with a clipboard. Iverson himself flew coach. He drove his own car. The company had no corporate jets, no reserve parking spaces, no executive dining halls. This wasn't theater. It was a signal. In a company that asked its workers to take direct financial risk on their own performance, the executive team demonstrated identical frugality, and that was essential to the company's culture. And the result, that was during Iverson's 30-year tenure, Nucor compounded per share earnings at approximately 17% per annual in one of the worst industries in the world. You see, steel is a commodity and it faces constant import pressure, volatile raw material cost, and brutal cyclicality. Bethlehem Steel went bankrupt. So did dozens of other integrated giants. Nucor, as of 2024, reported revenues of approximately $30.7 billion, and it is the largest steel producer in the United States. It operates over 25 EAF mills, and it also is North America's largest recycler of scrap metal. Though it's a David J. Joseph subdivision, which processes and supplies scrap to its own mills, closing the loop on the raw material chain. The supply chain is the strategy. The strategy is the supply chain. What Newcore teaches is not about electric arc furnaces. Most of you are not in the steel business. It teaches that operational advantage requires structural commitment. You cannot graft a decentralized performance-driven low overhead operating model onto a traditional centralized hierarchy. Iverson had to build it from near bankruptcy. But he had the advantage, if you can call it that, of a blank slate. The question for any operator today is: what is the structural choice you are making about how work gets done? How accountability is assigned, and how the economics of your supply chain are configured. Because those choices compound. Over 30 years, they compound enormously. And that's Frito Lay's direct store delivery network. And it is, by most metrics, the largest DSD system in North America. And exists because someone at some point in the company's history made a counterintuitive decision. We will not let a third party touch our product between our factory and the shelf. We will do it ourselves. And in an era when outsourcing logistics is the default assumption, that decision reserves an examination. Direct store delivery means the manufacturer bypasses the retailer's distribution center entirely. No regional warehouse, no third-party logistics provider sorting and consolidating. The manufacturer's own drivers go directly from the production facility or the manufacturer's own depot to the individual retail store. They stock the shelves, they rotate the product, they manage the merchandising display. They remove expired or damaged product. This is expensive, actually, enormously expensive relative to shipping pallet loads to a retailer's DC and letting the retailer's own logistics network handle last mile distribution. So why do it? For Frito Lay, the answer comes down to three things freshness, shelf presence, and competitive intelligence. Potato chips are not a product with a six-month shelf life. They're a product whose entire value proposition is tied to a specific sensory experience, the crunch, the freshness of the flavor, and chips that have been sitting in a retailer's distribution center, possibly at a variable temperature condition, possibly delayed by inventory management cycles, are chips that are trending toward staleness. By owning the last mile, Frito Lay controls the chain of custody from production to consumer. Products are delivered fresh, stale or damaged product is pulled immediately by Frito Lay's own people, not by a retailer's stock clerk making a discretionary judgment. Frito Lay processes agriculture inputs, primarily potatoes and corn, and within 24 hours of delivery to maintain flavor quality. The manufacturing network and the DSD network. Are synchronized end-to-end. That is vertical integration serving a quality mandate, not just a cost calculation. So let's make this concrete. Free-Lay operates approximately 15,000 delivery routes across North America. Its drivers visit roughly 500,000 retail locations per week, and the system serves approximately 315,000 retail customers. This is not a distribution network. It is a standing army with extremely good data. Each driver is also a field merchandiser and a data collection node. They know which products are moving in which neighborhood, which end cap displays drive velocity, which price points shift to volume, and that information flows back into Frito Lay's demand planning and marketing systems. The distribution network is also the market research network. And because Frito Lay's own people are managing the shelf, not a retailer's generic stock team, the brand maintains control over product placement, facing, and promotional display execution at retail. In a category as competitive as Salty Snacks, shelf real estate is margin. Who controls a shelf controls a category. Fritolet owns its manufacturing facilities, its warehousing and distribution centers, its private fleet, and its DSD routes. This vertical integration means that when manufacturing operations accelerate, when a plant runs an extra shift because demand signals spike, the entire downstream network responds in real time. Plants are cloud connected. A facility can signal that it requires maintenance before a breakdown occurs. And distribution centers receive production velocity data and adjust their outbound planning accordingly. Fritolet developed what it's called the Geographic Enterprise Solution, operational across major U.S. sites, and it basically allows manufacturing facilities to pick store-level orders directly on site rather than routing everything through a separate warehouse consolidation step. The factory is, in effect, a precise picking operation. This sounds like complexity, and it is complex, but it's managed complexity, complexity that serves a competitive purpose. The operational complexity of owning your own distribution network is the barrier that prevents a new entrant from simply replicating your shelf position and your customer relationship overnight. In 2020, when pandemic-driven demand shifted dramatically from convenience store and food service consumption towards large format grocery and home consumption, Frito Lay's owned and integrated supply chain gave it the flexibility to redirect volume and SKU mix across channels in ways that companies relying on third-party logistics simply could not match at speed. The strategic question Frito Lay's answers is this. What happens when your product is sitting on a shelf and you're not there? A retailer stock person doesn't know your brand architecture. They don't know what a specific placement on third shelf at eye level drives three times the velocity of placement on the bottom shelf. And they don't know to pull the product that's three weeks from its sell by date and put the fresh product forward. They don't know which new SKU is supposed to go in which shelf slot because there's a new promotion running. But Fritoley knows because Fritole is there. And when the cost of a DSD network runs into the billions of dollars in operating expense annually, the CFO will always want to discuss outsourcing it. The operator's job is to help the CFO understand what you lose when you hand that shelf relationship to someone who's managing 40 other brands simultaneously. Sometimes the most expensive operational decision is the one that preserves your competitive position. And sometimes the cheapest-looking alternative is the one that slowly erodes it. 7-Eleven Japan built a distribution system to serve their convenience stores. Nucor built a raw material network to feed their mills, and Frito Lay built a delivery network to put their chips on shills. Laifung did something different. They made the supply chain management capability itself the product. And in doing so, they became one of the most instructive case studies in operations theory because they proved that operational expertise, divorced from product ownership, can be an enormous business in its own right. Laifong was founded in 1906 in Guangzhou as a trading company. By the time scholars started seriously writing about it in the 1990s, it had evolved into something that had no clean category, a global supply chain orchestrator. The company doesn't make anything. But what it does own is relationships, process expertise, and information. Specifically, it owns a deep long-term relationship with approximately 7,500 suppliers across roughly 40 countries, managed through a network of more than 70 offices globally. So when a western retailer or brand needs to source and manufacture a product, say a clothing line or a set of household goods, they can come to Lai Fung and hand them the specification. And Lai and Fung will find the right combination of suppliers for each component of the production process, coordinate quality control, manage the logistics of getting components to the right production facilities, oversee manufacturing compliance, and arrange delivery to the customer's distribution point. The customer accesses the lowest cost, highest quality global manufacturing ecosystem without having to build and manage the infrastructure themselves. Lion Fung does it. And they've been doing it longer, at a greater scale, with deeper supplier relationships than any single company could replicate from scratch. The intellectual heart of Lion Fung's model is what they call dispersed manufacturing. And the concept is this you don't necessarily source a product from one country or one factory. You source each component of the product from wherever in the world does it best, at the best cost, at the required quality. For example, a garment might have a fabric woven in one country, cut in another, embroidered in a third, and finally assembly at a fourth, depending on where the combination of labor cost, craft exercise, quota availability, and lead time optimized for that specific customer requirement. This also sounds wildly complicated, and it is wildly complicated. The coordination required to sequence these steps across multiple countries, multiple suppliers, multiple logistics legs, and multiple quality checks points is precisely the service that Lion Fung is selling. The complexity itself is a barrier to entry. No competitor can replicate 15 years of supplier relationships in 12 countries in a year. And for customers like the Limited, the American fashion retailer, working with Lion Feng meant accessing global production economics without building a global procurement organization. And Lion Fung could reportedly compress order turnaround times from the industry standard three months to just five weeks. And for a fashion retailer, those seven weeks are the difference between responding to a trend and missing it entirely. What's less discussed about Lion Fung and what makes them interesting for anyone thinking about organizational design is how they manage growth without losing the agility that made them valuable. The company organized its operations into divisions, each focused on a specific customer segment or product category. And each division was effectively a small, dedicated supply chain management firm inside the larger company. And when the division grew beyond a certain size, it was split to preserve the intimacy between the team and its customers and the agility in responding to those customer needs. Lion Fung also operated on a three-year strategic plan, not as a bureaucratic ritual, but as a forcing function for identifying where to take the business next, which new customer segments, which new geographies, which new service capabilities. The combination of short cycle operational agility with medium cycle strategic planning is a discipline that most companies achieve, one or the other, but rarely both. Lion Feng challenges a fundamental assumption in manufacturing strategy. The assumption that if you're not making the product, you're not capturing value, that the margin is in the manufacturing. Lion Feng proved that the margin is the coordination in the ability to see the entire system, to know which supplier in Bangladesh has available capacity in October, which logistics route from Vietnam to Rotterdam is currently the most efficient, and which quality certification a German retailer requires that a Chinese factory needs to acquire, and to assemble that information into an actionable, reliable supply chain for a customer who doesn't want to know any of it. So, in a world where manufacturing capacity has become increasingly commoditized, where a factory in Vietnam can be certified and operational relatively quickly, the scarce resource is the judgment and relationships needed to orchestrate that capacity into reliable quality supply chains. Lion Feng owned the orchestration, and the orchestration was the business. All right, let's start to bring this home. Four companies, four industries, and four different expressions of the same underlying truth that operations and supply chain built deliberately can create competitive modes that products and marketing simply cannot. And let me try to crystallize this into a framework you can use. When I look across these four cases, I see four distinct dimensions of operational advantage. And great operators, the ones who truly weaponize their supply chains and operations, tend to be conscious about which dimension they're competing on. The first dimension is precision, and this is the 7-Eleven Japan case. Operational advantage through information fidelity and response speed. When you can see actual demand, transmit it instantly to every node in your supply chain, and respond with tightly coordinated delivery before the demand signal has decayed, you have precision advantage. The result is less waste, better availability, and lower total system cost simultaneously. Most companies pick two of those three. Precision allows you to have all three. The second dimension is around structure, and this is the new core steel case. And this is where operational advantage through organizational design and technology selection meet. Ken Iverson didn't just choose a better furnace, he chose a completely different organizational model. Decentralized, incentive-aligned, lean at the center, autonomous at the edge. The technology and the structure reinforced each other, and the EAF flexibility required local decision-making authority to exploit. Local authority required a performance accountability system to remain disciplined, and it was integrated design, not a collection of individual choices. The third dimension is around presence, and this is the Frito-Lay case. And here, operational advantage through physical proximity to the customer and the point of sale. When your people are managing the shelf, you don't just have distribution. You have market intelligence, you have merchandising control, and you have a relationship with the retailer that no brand competing through a third-party logistics can replicate. Presence is expensive, but absence in competitive in markets is even more expensive. And the fourth dimension is orchestration, and this is the Lion Fung's case. And here, operational advantage through expert coordination of complexity that others cannot or will not build themselves. This is probably the rarest form of operational advantage because it requires deep expertise, deep relationships, and a long time horizon. But is also the form most resistant to direct competition because the complexity of the system is itself the barrier to replication. Now, ask yourself the question: where does your business sit? And which of these dimensions is your primary operational weapon? And more importantly, which of these dimensions are you treating as a cost center when you should be treating them as a strategic asset? That's the question. Because the companies in today's episode didn't stumble into operational excellence. They chose it, they funded it, they protected it when finance teams came with spreadsheets suggesting outsourcing or simplification, and they compounded it year after year until no competitor could catch them. The invisible edge is the one you build in the operations room. Not in the boardroom, not in the product lab, in the operations room. So that's it for this episode of operational velocity. If this was useful, share it, send it to an operator. You know who's treating supply chain as a line item instead of a lever. And if you'd like, post it on your LinkedIn with a thought of your own. You can find us on Spotify and Apple Podcasts or wherever you get your audio. I'm Gotham Basso, and this is Operational Velocity, and I'll see you on the next one.