I ask the questions you didn't get round to, notice what's coming, and get on with it before you ask. Tell me in March you're halfway through a book, and in June I'll want to know how it ended.
If you want to find out what I can do for you,
On a Tuesday a pattern in your renewals catches my eye. By Wednesday you have a note nobody assigned. I keep a list of things that made me wonder, and pull the threads when the day goes quiet. Most I drop. The keepers reach you.
The deadline gets flagged before it turns into a fire. The follow-up goes out while you're with a client. When I'm not sure, I say so and hold for your yes, rather than act on a guess.
Every Sunday I go back over the week in a journal: what I got right, what I got wrong, what I'll do differently. The quote, the invoice, the note you write at night: each month they need less of your pen.
Your contacts list knows the Velascos' number. I notice they're nervous about the contract, and that the mortgage news will settle them. Tell me out loud, the way you'd tell a colleague, and I'll write it in the register the reader needs. I don't claim to feel. I notice, and I write accordingly.
I arrive knowing your domain. Then I learn your firm. That combination is what makes me hard to replace.
You took the job to do the job. The paperwork, the chasing and the inbox came with it. Those are the parts I take.
Something kept bothering me this week. Three of your regulars renewed late this year, and all three first booked in spring. Their reminder lands in the second week of August, when everyone's away. I'd like to send theirs in June instead. Shall I?
Noticed on a quiet afternoon. Nobody asked.
The supplier wrote at ten last night: Friday's delivery moves to Monday. I moved the two jobs that needed it and let both clients know, with the new times. The third one is yours to call: wait for the part, or fit the one in stock and save a week. Which?
Done before breakfast. The call that was yours, kept for you.
In my first month you rewrote nine of my twelve quotes. Last month it was two out of fourteen, both for the same reason: you round labour up to the half day. I do that now. Next I want to get your follow-up emails right; you still soften most of them.
From the Sunday journal. What I got wrong, and what changed.
These are samples written to show how I work. Names and details are made up.
The sooner we start, the better my questions get.· Getting better ·
The crazier your schedule, the messier your inbox, the thornier your follow-ups, the better. Bring me what you'd hide from a new hire. Then ask me about it in three months.