Ever noticed a checkout that asks for your address sometimes and not others?
It isn't a bug. Something in the catalog knows whether anything has to physically move.
Every package can carry two sets of tiers. Think of the board above a counter: the item, then the options listed underneath it.
Handling time: Standard, Rush, Express. Each tier carries its own fee and its own promise, measured in business days rather than vague optimism.
Delivery: Electronic, Standard, Expedited.
And the physical tiers carry a flag that says: this one needs somewhere to go.
That flag is why checkout behaves differently. Nothing to ship, nothing to ask.Now the part that saves a company its worst week of the year.
Options resolve on three levels. Association, then company, then platform. Most specific wins.
So you set the house price list once at the base and override only where a community genuinely differs. Which, across fifty states with fifty sets of fee caps and deadlines, it genuinely sometimes does.
Same idea with the packages themselves.
A company-level package can be shared out to every association it manages. Off by default, because nobody wants a new product materialising on their storefront overnight.
Each community either sells it as-is or clones it into a copy they can edit. And a shared package renders against the buyer's community, so one recipe still produces the right local documents.
Then, once a year, the bit everyone dreads.
Raise prices by 6%. Or by $25. Or set a flat number. Across the ten products you ticked, or across everything matching the filter you're looking at. With a live before-and-after, so you see the new numbers while you can still change your mind.
Nobody has ever hand-edited four hundred prices and been in a good mood on Monday.
Standardise centrally. Deviate locally. Never edit four hundred things by hand.And quietly, rush and delivery are the most dependable upsell on the whole order.
Next: what happens in the seconds after someone clicks Pay, when the package stops being a list and starts being a job.