Nothing goes cold.Nobody feels forgotten.
Once somebody has been in touch — or been in once — everything they see of you next is a message somebody had to remember to send. This sends them: every enquiry and quote chased until you get a yes, a no or a time, a reminder before every booking, and the “we've missed you” to a regular who's gone quiet. In your words, with your OK on each one. If you don't quote and don't run a diary, this is the half that keeps the people who already know you coming back.
The follow-up that actually happens.
Not a reminder for you to do it. It does it, and waits for your thumb before anything reaches a customer.
Every quote and enquiry chased until it's answered
A quote sits there until somebody follows it up. This one follows itself up — politely, on a sensible spacing — until you get a yes, a no, or a time in the book.
A reminder before every booking
The day-before message and the morning-of nudge. People don't miss appointments on purpose. They forget, and by then the slot is gone and you can't fill it.
The messages you'd send if you had the time
“We've missed you.” The birthday note. The six-month check-in. Written in your voice and sent to the right person at the right moment, at a scale you could never do by hand.
Written for you, sent by you
Every message waits in one place for your thumb. Approve it, change it first, or — once you've watched it get that kind right enough times — let that one run on its own.
The work is already done. It’s the last message that’s missing.
You've already paid to win these people — the ad, the referral, the hour you spent writing the quote. What's missing is the cheapest part.
The quote you sent a fortnight ago and never chased
Not because you didn't care. Because you were flat out for a fortnight, and it's still sitting in their inbox under forty other emails. The only thing standing between you and that job is somebody asking.
The booking they fully intended to keep
They forgot. You'd already blocked out the time, and at that notice you can't fill it — so the chair, the table or the van sits there costing you exactly what it costs you every other hour of the day.
The regular who just stopped coming in
Nothing went wrong. They came in every week, then they didn't, and nobody noticed for two months because nobody counts that. Somebody else got in touch and you didn't. A message back then would have been the cheaper way to keep them.
And you're most likely already paying for the tools to do this — a texting service billed monthly that nobody opens, an email one nobody has time to write for. The tools were never the problem. Somebody driving them was.
What changes once it's live.
Quotes and enquiries come back with an answer instead of going quiet, and you stop carrying a mental list of who you owe a chase.
Nobody has to remember. The chase already went, and the reply is sitting there waiting.
They hear from you when it suits them, and it reads like you wrote it, because you approved it.
Nothing sends without your OK — you tap approve on your phone, and you can change your mind about that whenever you like.
And once a month, the story of all of it lands in your inbox — starting with how many enquiries got answered when there was nobody there to answer them.
See what's in itWatch a night of it, on a made-up business.
Our work page has one invented electrician's night on a scrubber: the enquiry answered late on, the quote chased before it went cold, the morning brief written before anyone started. Drag through it and see the shape of a week you didn't have to be awake for.
Drag through a night of it on Our workThe rest of what we run