What a duty manager looks at at 05:40
At 05:40 the operations room is a kettle, a stand list, and three people who have not clocked in at security. Nobody wants a graph. They want to know which pier still has a closed search lane and whether the first wave will meet a wall of trays.
The stand list remains handwritten in many UK regional rooms because it changes in the mouth, not in a nightly export. We do not replace it. The board we hang opposite the kettle is the passenger picture: expected dwell at security, known trolley snags, and whether reclaim still has last night’s belt numbers taped over.
First wave is a social event. Catering, cleaning, and security arrive in a clump. If the board is behind the door, the clump never sees it. Hanging height is a people problem. Tomasz measures from the person who actually stands there with a mug, not from a midpoint of the wall.
We have been asked to add a clock that counts down to the first departure. We refuse. Countdown clocks in this room become theatre. The duty manager already has a watch and a radio.