Event software exists. It just tends to live in a different tool than your roster.

You create the event with the days it really takes, and each day gets its own type: build, event day, teardown. A build day rarely keeps the same hours as the night it is building for, so every day carries its own doors and close time. On the week grid the event shows up as a chip on the days involved, in the accent colour you gave it, so anyone who opens the roster sees straight away why Saturday looks different.

While an event is a draft, only managers see it. It reaches the team when you confirm it. And if it gets cancelled, the shifts stay put with a flag on them — deleting them quietly would wipe hours people had already planned their week around. That is deliberate: a cancelled night is a conversation with your crew, not a silent delete.

Party moves to another date? You do not get one email per click. Every change stamps the event, and once the shuffling has been quiet for a while a single summary notice goes out with what was added and what dropped since the venue last heard. Change your mind mid-edit and land back on the original date, and nothing is sent at all.

The run sheet is a timeline on the clock on the wall: 17:00 soundcheck, 19:00 doors, 22:00 DJ on, 02:00 last round. Each line belongs to one day, or to the whole event when it is a standing arrangement. It reads on a phone behind the bar and it prints for the people who would rather have a sheet in their pocket.

Next to it sit the contacts: the floor lead, security, the DJ, the bride’s cousin who is arranging everything. Per contact you decide whether the crew sees it. That is off by default, because security’s number belongs on every phone and the booker’s does not.

There is also a checklist and a door list. The door list holds names with how many people they are bringing, and you tick off who is in — which is what you need at a private party where the guest list IS the door policy.

The team briefing is the text everyone reads before the night: who is where, what the client was promised, which bar stays shut, which fire exit has to stay clear. You write it in pieces, between two services. Nothing happens until you hit publish. Only then does it become visible and everyone working that night gets a notification — a half-written briefing never reaches anyone’s phone.

After that you get a counter: read by 8 of 12 working these days — the denominator is the crew rostered on the event days, not your whole team. Not who has not read it — that is a conversation, not a dashboard. Just the number, because that is the only thing you need in order to decide whether to make a few more calls. Republish an edited briefing and an old read no longer counts: anyone who has not seen the new version shows as outstanding again.

Costs go in as lines with a category — artist, production, security, marketing, rental, catering — each with a budget and later an actual amount. An empty budget is not zero: "nothing agreed yet" and "free" are two different facts, and the tool keeps that difference.

On the income side sit your revenue lines and, if you sell tickets, the quantities sold — counted by hand, imported as CSV, or pulled from an external ticket feed. SuperHoreca does not sell tickets and does not take money; it records what was sold so the account is complete.

Nobody types the staffing cost. It comes off the roster: the shifts standing on those days, at the all-in hourly cost you entered per person. Move a shift and the cost moves with it. At the bottom is what is left, and the whole thing exports as CSV for your accountant. For a venue that staffs Saturday with two extras and a student on top of the regulars, that is the difference between knowing and guessing what an event returns.

You get a public enquiry page and a widget you paste onto your own website. The visitor picks from the kinds of party you defined yourself — so "christening" and "staff party" if that is what you do, not a list someone else thought up — and from budget bands you set. Above the form you put your own house rules: minimum numbers, what you do not do, how far ahead you take bookings.

The date may be flexible, or missing entirely. "Somewhere in October, whenever suits you" is a real enquiry and a real lead; a form that demands an exact date turns that lead into an abandoned form. You can add up to five questions of your own, and no more — every extra box is a reason to give up on a form that has exactly one job.

An enquiry notifies your managers and any extra addresses you name. It does not become an event: someone of yours reads it, and if they convert it they get a draft. Nothing reaches your team on the authority of a form a stranger filled in.

This is the part a separate event tool will never solve for you: if your room is privately hired on Saturday, no ordinary reservations should still be coming in. Because events and reservations live in the same system here, the event can take seats off your booking page.

Confirm an event and it holds the expected guest count from the doors time by default. Want the whole day shut, you set it to full and every service block that day comes off sale — otherwise a club night starting at 22:00 leaves the 19:00 slots quietly open. Drafts and copies hold nothing, because a date nobody has decided on has no business blocking your room.