Tell it what you do.
It builds the rest.

Nell had no customer list, no website worth the name, and forty unanswered emails.

She runs Harrow & Vale — upholstery and antique restoration in Bristol. Two people, twelve years, mostly period pieces. Here is her first afternoon.

1. 1 Two minutes

   She tells it what she does

   Seven questions. What she sells, who she serves, how she talks — and the one rule that matters:

   “Never quote a firm price before seeing the piece.”

   That is the only thing she is asked to do. Everything below follows from it.

   
2. 2 Thirty seconds, unattended

   It sets up her business

   A customer list and a job board appear, named after her, pointed at workshop work because that is what she said she does — booked, in the workshop, waiting on parts, ready, delivered.

   Every other agent asks you to connect the software you already run. If she had that, she would not need one.

   
3. 3 Ninety seconds

   It builds her a page

   Not a document — a page people land on. Her name set in type, what she does and where, the three pieces she has just finished, and what things cost.

   The prices came from question four. Nobody typed them twice.

   
4. 4 Three minutes

   And the way in, wired to the page

   “Make me a form people can fill in from the website. Let them attach photos. Then set it up so a submission comes to you and you draft my reply.”

   The button on her page goes here. One sentence, two systems, no settings screen — and the thing that answers it is already listening.

   
5. 5 Under five minutes

   Someone finds the page, and sends a photo

   Ruth Bell clicks the button, fills in the form and attaches a picture of a chair she inherited.

   Fahim does not guess from the filename. It opens the photo and looks:

   · New enquiry Ruth Bell

   ruth@example.com · via the form

   nursing-chair.jpg

   “A Victorian nursing chair, seat sagging and the fabric torn on one arm.”

   What it actually saw.

6. 6 Two minutes

   The chair goes on the board

   Booked in, promised for the third. It sits beside the sideboard that has been waiting on veneer and the desk in the workshop — columns named for a workshop, not for a software team.

   Fahim can be assigned a job here like anyone else on the bench.

   
7. 7 Two minutes

   Then it writes the quote to go with it

   An itemised PDF on a letterhead. Labour, materials, arithmetic correct.

   It wrote “Total (indicative)” on its own — still following the rule from beat one, two hours later.

   
8. 8 The moment the chair is finished

   The board tells it, not her

   She moves the job to Ready. Fahim notices, looks up whose chair it is, and has the message written before she has put the screwdriver down.

   “Your nursing chair is finished and ready to come back to you… We're happy to bring it to you within twenty miles of Bristol.”

   It only knew about the twenty miles from beat one. And it is a draft — see below.

   
9. 9 When the chair goes back

   And the customer ends up on the books

   She moves the job to Delivered. Nobody has to remember the paperwork — Fahim goes back to the customer list, finds Ruth, logs what was done and when, and marks the work finished.

   That is her record, in the CRM, written by the agent — the job, what was done to it, the date, and who it belonged to.

   A stranger clicked a button on a web page this morning. Tonight she is a customer with a history.

   
10. 10 Next morning, 8am, unasked

    It tells her what is slipping

    It ran before she was up, read the pipeline and the board, and wrote her a brief. Eighteen seconds. Two cents.

    It also refused to dress up thin data — which is the behaviour that matters most when nobody is checking.

    Three clients have gone quiet.

    Aldgate refit · Active	£22,000
    Clifton townhouse · New client	£15,600
    Marina Logistics · Active	£8,400

    “They're not old-stale — they're never-started-stale. The risk is that they sit in the pipeline looking like live relationships when nobody has actually spoken to anyone.”

    If you can only do one thing today: Aldgate refit. Biggest value, no contact on record, already marked Active — that gap is the most dangerous.

    Verbatim, from the run.

One afternoon. A customer list, a job board, a page her customers land on, a form wired to it, a quote out the door, a chair delivered and the customer on the books — from a stranger clicking a button to a record with her name on it, without anyone typing it twice. And she approved every word that left the building.