Suite 6 people
Nobody here is a swing coach with a mill in the back. The mill is the front. If you want a lesson, we will say so on a different page and send you away kindly.
CAM · flute choice · feeds
Keiko wrote toolpaths for a university fab shop before the Olive lease. She treats a cavity iron like a small fixture, not a relic. If the flute chatters she kills the feed in the same breath she uses to insult the CAM kernel. Saturday mornings she programs the week’s 5-PW jobs so weekday vises do not wait on a mouse.
Alloy spark · vise · veto
Reed grew up around a Springfield machine shop that cut pump housings, which is a sentence we do not romanticize. He sparks steel, mics faces, and is the person who says no. Golfers like him less than they like Nia. The heads last longer because of that. He answers the shop phone if the spindle is idle.
Ra sled · wet collar · tickets
Nia keeps the soaked-clipping tray honest and the Ra sled calibrated against a set of finish coupons that live in a labeled tin. She writes the ticket in a hand you can still read after a winter in a bag. If a groove edge rolls on the wet table, she does not argue with the loupe. She walks the head back to Keiko.
mill@millface.space
There is no fourth machinist. The shared inbox is Reed on weekdays and Nia on Saturday. If you write at 9:40 on a Sunday, the reply waits for Monday at 10. That is not rudeness. That is the gantry clock.
A “master fitter.” A brand ambassador. A person who talks smash factor while a 4-flute is in the cut. If that is the visit you want, Olive Street will bore you. If you want a face that still has a corner in March, we are the boring people you came for.