I find the places in a business where money leaks out unnoticed, and build the thing that holds on to it. All of it runs inside your own tools, so nothing changes in how you and your team work.
More than twenty channels nobody has time to read, and decisions lost somewhere in the chat.
One digest each morning: what was decided, what needs a reply, what's still open.
Inquiries answered whenever somebody gets around to it — if the message survives the week.
Scored, recorded and answered within minutes, in the language the person wrote in.
Someone opens every invoice and retypes the numbers into a spreadsheet.
The row is already in the ledger — vendor, dates, totals, tax reconciled.
Each reply to a comment is written from scratch, and the style of the text depends on who on the team is writing it.
A draft response in brand style is just a click away — and if a fact is missing for the answer, the agent will let you know.
A task that takes an hour a day is about 250 hours a year — the slice of a role you'd otherwise be hiring for, or the slice of your own week you'd rather have back.
The setup that does it instead costs less per month than a single working day of that person's time. It works at night, doesn't take vacations, and doesn't forget anything.
An hour a day adds up to six working weeks a year. Somebody works them: either a person you keep on for it, or you, after hours. The chain takes those six weeks for the price of a couple of billable hours a month — and it stays the one line in the budget that doesn't grow with volume.
Digests, replies, follow-ups. Your inbox and channels get read and summarized — and the replies drafted for you. You just approve, edit or skip.
The tasks you do the same way every day — copying, tagging, moving data between tools — go to an agent. It does them at three in the morning, for the thirtieth time in a row, without skipping a step.
Write in your own words what eats your time or still gets done by hand. You'll get a specific answer: what I'd take on first, what takes a day, what takes a week, and what isn't worth doing at all and why.
No call required. Describe the work in a few lines and I'll come back to you on whichever channel you prefer.
Thank you — I read everything myself and reply on the channel you picked.
The team talks in more than twenty channels, mostly inside threads. Decisions get made in passing and are gone by the next day. Nobody could say for certain what was agreed yesterday, or who still owed an answer.
Every night it re-reads every channel — public and private — including the replies inside threads. In the morning, one list appears in a channel of its own: what was decided, who owns what, and what's still waiting for an answer.
Replying to comments meant watching the account all day and writing every answer from scratch. The account publishes expert commentary, so replies have to sound consistent and never promise something the company can't stand behind.
Each new comment lands in the team's chat with the original text, a link, and two or three ready-made replies. A person picks one, edits it, and sends — or doesn't.
A remodeling contractor gets invoices and receipts by email — files and phone photos. Someone opens each one and retypes the numbers into a spreadsheet. It's slow, and it's exactly the kind of work where a typo costs real money.
Any invoice tagged with one label in the inbox gets read on its own — vendor, dates, line totals, tax and the amount due — and arrives in the spreadsheet as a finished row.
Inquiries come in as free text and vary wildly: one names the budget, the dates and the square footage; the next asks something vague and leaves. Each one has to be read, judged, copied into a sheet and answered by hand.
Each inquiry is read and marked hot, warm or cold — on what it actually says. A finished row goes into the sheet with a short summary, the customer gets an answer in their own language with two meeting times to choose from, and the manager gets a message on Telegram.
GeoInvesting has published its own research on small companies since 2007. The home page had to do three things at once: show what the market is doing right now, gather everything the firm publishes, and run a live feed of events — without turning into a wall of links. The first version came out looking like a magazine; the client wanted a working tool, not a brochure.
A three-column page. On the left, the stocks the desk follows: today's risers and fallers, and the year behind them. In the middle, the lead piece and four sections of published work. On the right, a calendar of what's coming and a feed that catches everything new.
The structure of the page, the design and the art direction. I decided what belongs on the page, what goes into the side columns, what sits in the header, and how all of it looks. I found the visual reference that moved the layout from magazine to working tool, gathered the client's real material and sorted it into sections, ran the project in iterations and reviewed every build — down to columns jumping on scroll and text clipped on the cover images. The code was written by an AI assistant to my spec and under my review.
