Built for a muddy phone in a driveway with one bar.
The office side of this app has a lot in it. The crew side deliberately does not. If a feature made a crew leader stop and think in a customer's garden, it did not survive.
It works with no signal at all
Everything saves onto the phone first and syncs when there are bars again. A crew down a lane with nothing on the mast can still open the work order, log the job, take the photos and mark it finished. Nothing is lost and nothing is waiting on a spinner.
Crews never see money
Not greyed out, not hidden behind a setting — never sent to the phone in the first place. A crew leader can raise an invoice for a job in one tap and still has no idea what it came to. The work order shows what to do, never what it is worth.
It warns, it does not block
Booked on a date that has passed, a machine already out on another job, a crew double-booked: the app tells you what it noticed and lets you decide. People have reasons. Software that refuses gets worked around, and then it is not tracking anything.
Every job names the customer
Small thing, learned the hard way. A list of jobs with addresses and no names is a list you have to translate. Rows say who it is.
What a crew leader's day actually looks like
Opens the app in the yard. Today's jobs, in order, with names and addresses. Taps the first one for directions.
On site. Two photos before anything comes down.
Checks the work order — was the neighbour's overhang included? It was. Carries on.
Photos after. Marks it complete. Customer asks for the bill; one tap sends it, and he never sees the figure.
Drives to the next one. The office already knows the first is done, and a post is drafted and waiting for the owner.
What we ask of a crew
Four photos and a finger on a button, spread across a day they were already having. That is the whole training session, and it is the reason this gets used after week three — which is where most field software quietly dies.