In the forty-eight hours before landfall, a slow page is the same as a business that is not open.
Nobody in this situation is browsing
A system is in the cone and the windows need boarding. The roof went in the night and the ceiling is coming down. A tree is across the drive and the power is out.
They are not assessing your workmanship. Three things, fast: you handle roof straps, you come to Riverside, this is the number.
The whole county searches at the same moment
When a track shifts toward this coast, every household makes its decisions inside about two days. That is more traffic in forty-eight hours than the previous three months.
Say what you can still do and by when, in plain words at the top. Honesty about being booked out earns more goodwill than silence, and they will remember it afterwards.
Assume the network is loaded
Everybody is on their phone at once, the towers are saturated, and a lot of people are already running on battery because the power went.
Build for the customer out on a shingle roof in August and the calm one takes care of itself. Words first, images after, nothing standing between the caller and your number.
Buttons for a wet, hurried thumb
Standing outside in rain with the wind picking up, one hand on the phone. Small links crowded together simply do not get pressed.
Make the call button genuinely large, keep it on screen as the page scrolls, and leave empty space around it so nothing else takes the tap from a hand that has been dealing with a roof strap for an hour.
Put a stopwatch on it
Next roof you are on in August, try to book yourself through your own form and time it.
The number usually lands badly. What you approved in an office is not what a customer meets standing in their yard.
