The book a local never kept: every bid it makes, won or lost, and the arithmetic that turns it into a decision. Built in one day, on a local that does not exist.
A local does not write its bids down. Not the bids, not the losses, not who beat them or by how much. There is no book. So nobody in the building can say whether the local is winning or losing, because nobody is keeping score.
Man hours are the currency a union runs on. The goal is market share, and the route to it is the job recovery fund managed by the numbers instead of by feel: which jobs to waive on, how many hours, and where those hours bring back the most work for the members. Every page here is a step in raising the probability of winning the next bid.
Munin is the raven Odin sent out every morning and who came back every night with what he had seen. This is one process, run once, on one local. It is written so that how it is done here is how it is done anywhere.
A spoken field report becomes a structured row, or it is held with the one missing thing named, or it is refused with a reason.
What a job recovery waiver would have had to cover to close the gap, priced against the contribution rate that was actually in effect on the day of the bid.
The losses that a waiver would have covered, where no waiver was offered. Free options, unused.
Standings across every territory, whether the recovery fund was put to work, and the next winnable job on the street.
Munin says unresolved rather than guess, in three places: a bid dated before any contribution rate was in effect, a contractor with too thin a book to rank, and a territory with too little history to project from. Each refusal prints the reason.