Directories list your practice under the wrong postcode, with the wrong number, and no one tells you, while browsers pick whoever loads first and looks alive.
invisible on page three Your website is fine. The directories feeding it visitors are showing a phone number from 2019, and the browsers meant to find you are booking the practice next door because its listing looked awake. We fix the listings, put the tap back on, and let word of mouth do what it's meant to.
A woman in Sowerby Bridge types "physio near me" this morning.
Your practice sits on page three, between a driving instructor and a man who mends washing machines.
This isn't bad luck finding you out. An out-of-date directory listing does what neglect always does, for years, without so much as a note through the letterbox.
Wellness marketing solutions: services that come into play here:
How bad is it: score your practice:
Nobody loses a client to bad luck. They lose them to a listing that stopped trying in 2019.
You redesign the website. You choose a nicer font. You feel, briefly, like a person with their affairs in order.
Meanwhile the directories sending you traffic have you under the wrong postcode and a number nobody's dialled since before the last lockdown.
Your website is fine. The roads leading to it have fallen into a ditch, and the council isn't coming.
Here's a figure that ought to put your cup down for a second.
Owner revenue share is negatively correlated with total practice revenue, at r=-0.61.
Owners who keep a smaller slice for themselves tend to run the bigger pie.
This happens once finding new clients stops living entirely in one person's head, usually the head also doing the invoicing, the ordering, and the bins.
The practices keeping the most for themselves are, oddly, keeping the least.
Good to know: Whatever's on your mind here, and however your practice's specifics play in, this is what specialist agencies take care of - so you can get on with running your practice. Happy to help ease your mind, if it'd be useful.
You imagine, once the listings are sorted, a great rush arriving like relatives at Christmas.
What turns up first is one message. "I found you on the NHS directory thing."
It sounds small, the way a dripping tap sounds small, until you notice the tap's been turned on and hasn't stopped since.
You don't need the flood on day one. Proof the pipes are connected will do nicely.
Keeping every directory listing current, well-worded, and ranked decently is an ongoing job.
Nobody plants a greenhouse once and wanders off for the summer expecting tomatoes.
Some practices tend this themselves, checking the listings the way you'd check the compost.
Others hand it to people whose whole working life is other people's tomatoes, and both are sensible, depending on what else is sat on your desk.
Solved before: practical guidance on this topic:
You update your own website twice a year and feel rather virtuous about it.
Meanwhile three separate directories still list your old address, the one you left in 2021, and not one of them rings to mention it.
Directories don't send a card. Your listing goes stale, like milk at the back of the fridge nobody's checking the date on.
Nobody rings to tell you the address is wrong. They just stop coming.
The clients who vanish haven't chosen a rival over you.
They've chosen whichever name loaded first and didn't look abandoned.
It's the same logic as picking the pub with the lights on over the dark one down the road, whatever's pulling on the pumps inside. Nobody's comparing menus. They're comparing who looks open.
Knowing which part of your marketing earns its keep is worth doing before you spend another Sunday evening on any of it.
Plenty of practices pour hours into social posts, captions, little videos of hands doing something soothing.
Meanwhile the directory listing, the very thing people search when they need you, sits untouched and unclaimed, like a Christmas present left under next door's tree.
Being invisible on a directory doesn't announce itself.
An ordinary Tuesday becomes an ordinary month, then a slow creeping sense that word of mouth has "just dried up" for no reason anyone can name.
Nobody wakes up to a collapsed booking calendar. It arrives the way damp arrives, in the corner, unremarked, until the whole wall's affected.
It never announces itself as a crisis. It stops being a Tuesday worth having, and nobody sends a warning.
Fixing the listing itself takes five minutes. Correct address, working number, a photo that isn't from 2016.
Fixing why nobody checked it in three years is the proper job, the one with your name on it.
That second job decides whether you're sat here again next spring, wondering where everyone's gone.
Get every directory listing working the way your best member of staff would, without you having to remember it exists. get found properly
We love that moment. It's where our listening wind and story garden do their most important work - and where a twenty-five-minute discovery call tends to open into something worth having. Coffee while we talk. Milk and sugar?