Work sits in one person's hands, going cold, and nobody upstairs can see whose. Hot Potato puts a clock on it — and a name. That's the whole product.
A blocker hides as long as it belongs to nobody. So we gave every one a name and a clock.
Hot hands this week: Northwind IT — 2 taters, 34 days combined burn. Help 'em, or quit feedin' 'em.
Updated live ·That's your blocker right now. Sitting there. Doing nothing. Going cold. Nobody's hiding it from you — it's just that nothing in your stack was ever built to say whose turn it is.
Don't be the potato. (🔊 unmute it — we dare ya.)
Someone's stuck on something you can fix. Toss it their way by name. The clock starts the second it lands.
The longer it sits in one pair of hands, the hotter it glows — on one board, in front of everybody, including you.
Your tater turns to fries, the clock moves on, and you're the hero of somebody's week. Tater et.
One tater, one holder, one clock. No sub-tasks, no statuses, no project-managing. It sits beside whatever you already run.
The board shows who's holding what, not what anyone typed. Strava shows miles, not where you live.
The Monday digest writes its own agenda: here's the bottleneck, here's the burn, here's who needs a hand. Read it in ninety seconds.
The CEO and the new guy get the same clock and the same voice. That's the part that makes it work.
Flat per org — never per seat. More hands in the game shouldn't cost you more, and a per-seat bill is the fastest way to make a blocker invisible again.
Takes about ten seconds. First few are on the house — and the first clock you start is usually the one you didn't know was running.
Send a hot potato — free