Almost every inventory system you have ever used carries the same hidden assumption: a unit of stock is a static widget. It has a SKU, a quantity and a location. You count the box of 200 bolts, you write down 200, and the number stays true until someone sells one. The object does not change between counts. That model is so familiar it feels like a law of nature.
It isn't. It is just an assumption that happens to hold for bolts, batteries and books — things that are finished the day they arrive and only ever leave by being sold or scrapped. Count them and you have the truth, frozen, until the next transaction moves it.
Horticulture breaks that model on day one. A plant is not finished when it arrives; it has barely started. The 9 cm liner you booked in this morning is, biologically, a different product by autumn: bigger, a grade up, worth more, possibly split into three, possibly dead. The widget on the shelf grew legs and walked off to become something else. So the moment you write down a single frozen "accurate stock number," you have written down a fiction — the thing you counted won't hold still long enough for the number to stay true.