Cockpit.
I work a sales patch by day. So I built the intelligence layer the job should have come with.
The day job is business development for — a phone, a patch, a number to hit. The standard tooling tells you who to call. It does not tell you what is true about them, what is changing in their world, or what you would say in the first thirty seconds that earns the next five minutes. So I built that part myself, on my own stack, on my own time.
The core is a two-stage reasoning engine. Stage one gathers evidence about an account — filings, signals, hiring, tech estate, market movement — and refuses to hold anything it cannot source. Stage two synthesises strategy from that evidence: an eighteen-section dossier reasoning from business to strategy to operations to problems to opportunity, with the top play scored across nine dimensions. Every claim carries a link and a confidence tier — verified, strong, hypothesis, speculative. If the system is guessing, it says so in writing.
Around the engine sits the working surface: an “arm me for this person” generator that researches a target and drafts the full kit — call script, messages, follow-ups, battlecard, a personality read with its own falsifiers. A playbook matrix crossing eighteen personas with fifteen business problems. A live-call copilot that listens for objections and feeds one-line nudges at conversation speed. Model routing keeps the economics sane: the small fast model classifies and retrieves, the mid model drafts, the deep model does synthesis — every call logged with its token cost.
Two design rules hold the whole thing. It never sends anything — every output is prepared for a human to read, judge, and deliver; the system has no send button by design. And it never touches what it should not — no scrapers, no session automation, hard ceilings on every data source, every metered lookup logged. Intelligence, not automation. The judgment stays human.