Record a few minutes and it speaks in your own voice. Or pick one, and set how warm, how formal, how playful it is.
It answers every call and every message the moment it arrives. And when a caller would rather not struggle through English, it simply asks, and carries on in theirs.
Screen one: the reel's comment sheet, where it replies in public two minutes after they ask.
Screen two: the DM thread that ends in a paid order.
The number comes up and three years come with it — the trail shoes that came back too small, the exchange, the answer you gave in April. Nobody is asked who they are, or made to explain it twice. Everything it remembers, your own business heard first.
The win-back at the end came from this. Nobody typed a word.
Swap a size, add an item, change the address, cancel a line. It finds the order, re-checks stock and the total, and re-sends the confirmation — without anyone reading back an order number.
They ask to see the apartment, and it's already in their hand before the sentence ends. The call never stops, and the viewing books itself.
Before I book a viewing — can I actually see it? Mainly the bedroom and the living room.
Sending them to your WhatsApp now — bedroom and living room, and the balcony in case that helps.
It reads the picture, tells real damage from transit scuffing, and has the replacement moving before anyone is asked to describe it.
It replaced the item. It did not refund them, and it did not accuse the courier. Both of those go to a person, with the photo, the order and its own reading already attached.
No forms, no “please email us.” Filed mid-conversation with the transcript attached, so whoever picks it up already knows everything that was said.
No menus, no flowcharts. Say what changed — a price, a policy, a new dish, this week’s opening hours — and it becomes knowledge your agent has, checked against your guardrails and live on the next conversation.
It notices the silence and drafts something personal. It sends only when you tap approve, and the customer comes back.