Website Emergency Rescue
Your website is losing bookings right now, while you're busy doing the real work of helping people.
Your website is losing bookings right now, while you're busy doing the real work of helping people.
Your website is stuck in March It still says opening soon and it opened months ago. We fix the page that's costing you clients, fast, and you go back to running your practice, not its IT department.
Somebody built your website once, felt very pleased, and left the banner up. It says opening soon. It has said opening soon since the daffodils were out.
You've a business that's open, trading, and taking clients. Your website is the only one who hasn't heard.
We can have that fixed by Thursday. You won't have to think about it again - which is the whole point.
A website announcing news from March is a Christmas card arriving in July: technically delivered, entirely useless.
She's got sciatica, a laptop balanced on a cushion, and four seconds of goodwill. Your page is still loading.
She gives up, puts the kettle on, and books the practice down the road. The one with the slightly worse reviews and the site that opens on the first try.
Every one of those four-second waits is a client you've already paid to lose. She never saw your face, your qualifications, or the nice photo of your consulting room.
A first impression that never loaded doesn't get a second go. You only get the four seconds once.
You're picturing a whole saga. New logo, a photographer trailing you round the therapy room, months of choosing fonts.
That's the fear talking, and it's kept better websites than yours broken for years out of pure dread.
We're patching the leak, not rebuilding the house. Your site keeps its bones, its bookings page, its good bits.
We fix what's actively driving people away. We leave the rest exactly as it was, which is usually most of it.
You called a plumber, not an architect. Treat it that way.
One wheel drags left, the whole thing veers toward the tinned tomatoes, and you abandon ship somewhere near the yoghurts.
A slow booking form does the same thing to a client who was, ten seconds ago, entirely willing to hand you their money.
They drift off. The trolley stays abandoned by the yoghurts, and your Tuesday slot stays empty.
We rebuild the booking form so it takes the shortest possible route from curious to confirmed.
No detours, no dead pages, no trolley with a mind of its own.
Nobody wants to be squinting at a dashboard at eleven at night, wondering why the paragraph's gone purple.
This never involves you touching the back end. We handle the whole thing.
You send us the mess, however embarrassing, and we send you back something that works.
You keep doing the job you trained for. We do the one you didn't.
Somewhere a client of ours is still proudly showing people her 'new website' a year later, having never once logged in to it.
An empty Tuesday afternoon feels like nothing much. Weather, half-term, the school run.
Look at enough empty Tuesdays and a pattern turns up. The pattern is usually sitting on your website, not doing its job.
Your diary reflects your homepage far more than it reflects the season.
Fixing the site isn't decoration for next quarter. It's the reason next quarter looks the way it does.
An empty afternoon isn't restful. It's a symptom.
Book the call and tell us what's broken, or what you suspect is broken.
Most people running a practice know exactly which page does the damage. The booking form that hangs. The photo taken in 2019 on a phone held sideways.
They've just never said it out loud to anyone qualified to fix it.
Say it to us. We'll name the fix in the same call, no homework required beforehand.
There's a comforting logic to it. New year, new website, fresh start, all very tidy.
Do the sum on what three more months of a site that turns people away really costs you.
Three months of Tuesdays with nobody in them adds up to considerably more than the price of the fix.
January is a lovely time to launch something. It's a poor time to keep losing money you could have kept.
Christmas is expensive enough without your website joining in.
No fee, no obligation, no follow-up call from a stranger trying to sell you a logo.
Twenty minutes, and you'll know exactly what's wrong and what it takes to fix it.
Book it now, while you're already on the page that's been bothering you. You were going to look at it anyway.
Bring a cup of tea. You'll still be on the call when it's gone cold.
Twenty minutes. Same as the kettle boiling, twice.
Stop losing clients to a website that hasn't caught up with your practice. Book your discovery call
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