Every module below is live software you can drive in the demo right now — not a roadmap wearing screenshots. Where something's still coming, we say so in plain sight.
Structured addresses that autocomplete from your own book, extra properties, gate codes, pets, tax-exempt flags, dated notes with pinning, custom fields, tags, lead sources, and one message timeline that writes itself — every call, text and email on that client, including the sends still sitting in the queue. Bulk tools: CSV import that skips duplicates, merge, export. Privacy-erase honors deletion requests while your financial history stays intact.
Point a new client at the client who sent them and the book keeps the thread. When that new customer pays their first invoice in full, a banner turns up on their file — first invoice paid, so-and-so sent them your way — with a one-tap button to put credit on the referrer's account at the amount you set. It waits for your tap, and it sits on your alerts list until you deal with it, because the referral nobody thanked is the last one that person sends.
One composer, every trade plus your own price book — the four launch trades come pre-priced, the General trade fits any crew, and more trade packs are on the way. Optional add-ons print in a "say the word" section, costs stay internal with live profit, markup-from-cost in one tap. Clients sign with a finger; signature, name, and timestamp save onto the record. Accept creates the job and the draft invoice by itself. Price each service for that one quote without touching your book, edit a quote after you've sent it, and templates make repeat work a two-tap quote. A sent quote keeps working, too: set the follow-up for the date you actually want it, and let a quote that's about to run out nudge them before it does.
Every service carries a description — what this one actually includes, written the way you'd say it — and it rides onto the quote line, prints under the item on the PDF, and shows in the portal, so nobody has to guess what a soft wash covers. A service can also carry its own checklist, its own cost for the profit math, the skills it needs, and a separate portal price for when what you show online isn't what you'd quote in a driveway. Accept the quote and every service's checklist lands on the job, in the order you quoted it.
Partial payments, tips tracked separately, late fees applied once and only once, per-client statements, aging chips, and a reminder queue that drafts the nudge in your choice of friendly, firm, or final — then sends it by email, by text, or both, stage by stage, on the schedule you set. Switch on auto-receipt and it goes out the moment the money lands. Write-offs and voids exist and are permission-gated. Online card and bank payments go straight to your own connected Stripe account; cash and checks stay first-class citizens, and you can add the ways you actually get paid — Venmo, Zelle, a check made out a particular way — as your own labelled method, with your instructions printed on the invoice and shown in the portal. Those are recorded here; the money still moves where it always did, and Stripe stays the only processor inside the app.
Any sent invoice takes a date. Choose it and one reminder queues for that day — by text if they have a mobile and haven't opted out, by email if they don't — and a clear button takes it back. A single invoice can also sit out the automatic queue entirely, for the customer you'd rather ring yourself. Quotes carry their own clock on the card, counting down to the day the price stops standing, with a renew button that restarts it when the answer finally comes.
One switch hides the qty × rate line under every item on customer copies and shows the line total only — useful when your pricing math is nobody's business but yours. It applies everywhere at once: the printed sheet, the emailed version, the plain-text copy, and the portal. Your own screens keep the math. Statements gather every open invoice for one client onto a branded page you can print, email, or copy as plain text, and a receipt itemizes each payment with its date and method rather than collapsing the whole thing into one "paid" line.
Turn on appointment reminders and they text the day before and again the morning of, at the hours you choose. Write an email now and send it Thursday — message and link, on the date you picked, cancellable right up until it goes. Test-send any template to yourself first, so you see exactly what the customer sees before a customer sees it. Receipts send themselves when a payment lands. A booking confirmation carries a confirm link and a calendar file, so the customer who never answers a text can still say yes. Everything queued or sent shows on that client's timeline. And unsubscribing from your marketing does not stop their invoice from reaching them — those are different kinds of mail, and the plumbing knows the difference. Texting runs on a business number you set up inside Crewplate, with a monthly allowance — every text respects quiet hours and opt-outs, always.
Today, week, month, and shift-board views. Repeat series, priority flags, multi-day jobs, required skills with mismatch warnings, conflict hints when a tech is double-booked, off-hours flags, checklists from templates, a copyable run sheet with gate codes, calendar export, and a maps route in stop order. There's also a subscribable calendar feed: point your phone's calendar at it once and the work shows up beside the rest of your life, updating as the week moves — with a rotate button for the day you need to kill the old link.
Two photo shelves on every job, shot straight from the phone camera and captioned in your own words — and the caption is what the customer reads in their portal. The job row keeps the count, and a job you've already started with nothing in the before column says so in amber, because the before shot is the one nobody remembers until it's too late to take. Pair any two and the app stacks them into one labelled image with your company name along the bottom, built on the phone at the kerb, ready to post.
Tap-to-clock timers tied to jobs that survive dead phones — the clock is a timestamp in the database, not a counter on the screen. Auto-break deduction on long shifts, manual entries by hours or exact times, approval locks, weekly OT flags, and a CSV your bookkeeper will accept without a sigh.
Its own tab beside Team, running on your pay cadence and your anchor date, with arrows to walk back through periods you've already paid. Hours come off the clock at each person's rate, commission comes off their real plan, one-off bonuses go on by hand, and the CSV goes to your payroll service or your accountant. Record the run and it takes a snapshot, so a rate you change in October can't quietly rewrite what August paid. If someone's hours are well above their own recent average it says so before you export, and if a shift is still running it warns you those hours aren't in the file yet. Gross pay only — withholding stays with your accountant, and the page says so itself.
Log it standing at the supply-house counter: photograph the receipt and the vendor, amount and date fill themselves in for you to check. Mark it billable to a customer or eat it as overhead, say what it bought so forty gallons reads as stock and not a vanished cost, note which card paid so a statement reconciles. The page keeps two counts in front of you — what's billable and not on an invoice yet, and what's still missing a receipt — and the QuickBooks export is shaped the way QuickBooks imports an expense feed, one row per expense with the account it maps to, rather than a table somebody has to rearrange by hand first.
Build any report: pick a measure — revenue invoiced or collected, profit after materials, labor, or a count — and slice it by service, trade, client, team member, month, or status, with stackable filters and member revenue credited by who sold it or who worked it. Plus the ready-made views: collected/labor/expenses/net, revenue by month and trade, lead-source ROI, quote funnel and win rate, job profit, outstanding by age, sales by employee — each a copyable CSV.
Every client gets a private link to request a quote or booking, review and e-sign quotes, see their invoices, and pay online — on their time, not yours. You decide what shows: live prices or request-a-price, which trades and services appear, your welcome note and brand color. Requests land in your inbox for a one-tap yes. Confirming an appointment is a link, not a phone call — and the confirmation brings a calendar file for their own calendar. Ways to pay lists everything you take, including the methods you added yourself.
Five tools in one page: AI social posts (before/after ready), segmented email blasts, review requests that auto-queue every finished job, win-back drafts for clients who've gone quiet, and an insights tab showing customers, revenue, and cost-per-acquisition by lead source against your real win rate. A one-question satisfaction survey rides along after the job: score it high and the next thing they see is your Google review page; score it low and it comes straight to you instead — privately, while you can still fix it.
An AI that picks up your business line — after your own phone has rung first, or only evenings and weekends, or every call, whichever you choose. Two things it will not do, whatever the caller says: it never quotes a price it worked out itself, and it never confirms a booking. Work becomes a request in your inbox, the call becomes a record with a transcript and a plain-English summary, and a text goes to whoever you named. Voicemail is the floor under all of it — out of minutes or any hiccup and the caller leaves a message that gets transcribed, never a dead line. The minutes meter sits on the same page, and when they run out calls go to voicemail instead of quietly billing you.
Upload your logo once and pick whether the header shows your name, the mark, or both — that one choice brands the campaigns, the quotes, the invoices and the printed sheets together. Marketing emails build from blocks: heading, paragraph, button, image, a before/after pair, an offer box, dividers and spacers, each with a style drawer that stays shut until you want it, and blank always means "use my brand." The preview beside you is drawn by the same builder that does the real send, so what you're looking at is what lands. Afterwards the outbox tells you what happened to each one — delivered, opened, clicked, bounced, marked spam — with the app's own note that opens read high these days and clicks are the number that counts.
The schedule pulls the service-area forecast and shows it right on the day you are booking, so a wash going out in tomorrow's rain is obvious before you promise it — not at seven the next morning. When weather does blow up a day, the reschedule planner drafts the moves, finds crew who are actually free, and writes the customer message for each one. You approve; it sends.
Keep subs alongside your own crew with their own logins and a deliberately narrow view: their jobs, their hours, and nothing about what the company makes. Insurance certificates and W-9s are tracked with expiry dates, and a sub whose general liability has lapsed is flagged before you send them out — because an uninsured sub who gets hurt on your job lands in your workers comp audit. Payouts are recorded per person, per job.
Build commission plans and let the books do the arithmetic: a percentage of what someone sold, what they worked, or both, calculated from the real quotes and real clocked hours already in the system. It lands in payroll next to their regular pay, so the person who closed the job can see exactly how the number was reached — and so can you, months later.
Track stock across multiple trucks and warehouses — each location with its own low-stock point, plus supplier, cost, reorder quantity, and SKU. Alerts fire before you're empty at the job, and it ties into the Service page so parts and equipment stay connected.
Track machines, run-hours, and maintenance with overdue reminders, so a pump doesn't die mid-driveway. Rodney, the equipment AI, is one tap away to log service, talk through a symptom, or plan the next PM.
Invite by link; each person lands scoped to their role — Owner, Admin, Office, Crew lead, Tech. A tech can't read your money pages, an office admin can't void without the permission, and none of that is just hidden buttons: the database itself refuses. Rates, skills, targets, and week-at-a-glance workload on every member card.
Turn on two-step verification and pair an authenticator app — and it isn't a screen you can click past. Your verified status is folded into every permission check in the database itself, so an enrolled account that hasn't entered its code gets refused at the data layer, not at the button. Switching it back off makes you prove it with a current code first.
Phone, office iPad, laptop — the same books, updating live. Delete the wrong client, quote, job, or invoice and a ten-second Undo sits in the corner; take it and the record comes back as the same record, not a copy of one. Export-everything downloads your complete records any time. Automatic database backups*, and destroying your own books takes an export, a typed phrase, and a countdown — on purpose.
Every good load quietly saves a copy of the day. Lose the bars in a basement or out past the last tower and the app offers that copy instead of a spinner: today's and tomorrow's stops with addresses and gate codes, the client contact book, and a tap-to-call button on every one. It's read-only and it says so, with the time it was saved right at the top — a stale schedule you can't tell is stale is worse than no schedule at all.
Clocking yourself in captures where you were standing. The timesheet shows a small map pin, and when the stamp landed outside the job-site radius you set, that pin turns amber and reads the distance. It never blocks the clock-in and it never blocks payroll — the point is that a Thursday-afternoon question ends with a map instead of an argument. No fix, no problem: a denied permission or a bad signal just clocks you in without one.
In the iPhone and Android app, switch on the app lock and the books stay behind your face or your thumb every time it opens — a curtain for the phone left on the truck seat, not another password. It's a per-device choice, so locking your own phone doesn't lock your crew's, and the phone's PIN gets you in on the day your thumb is wet.
The app pushes on the handful of things you'd actually want to know standing in a driveway: a quote came back accepted, a customer confirmed their visit, a request landed in the portal, a survey came back unhappy, a missed call got handled. Each one is a switch you turn on yourself, and tapping the notification opens the page it's about. Nothing buzzes to tell you it's Tuesday.
Three things straight off the home screen without opening anything first: clock in, new quote, today's jobs. It's the app icon on your phone, held down — which is where a crew's thumb already goes.
One button on the client file and on the schedule row. Pick the minutes off the chips or type your own, and your on-my-way wording goes out with the arrival window filled in. Sent from the business number it reads as the company, and their reply comes back onto that client's timeline instead of disappearing into somebody's personal phone.
Steps on a job can be marked required, and a required step nobody ticked stops the job being marked done — it lists what's still open instead of arguing. Steps that need a name capture a typed sign-off on the spot. That's how the step everybody knows survives the fourth job of a long day.
Pick a category, then a brand, then the actual unit, and the service schedule arrives with it — engine, pump, drive, the parts and their intervals, off the manufacturer's own book. Every level has a "not listed" door, so an odd rig still gets built by hand. And where the library isn't certain of a spec it says so instead of filling in a plausible number, which is the whole difference between a reference and a guess.
A pump seal can be due every hundred hours and every six months at once, and tracking that with one clock — usually the wrong one — is how parts go quietly past due forever. Each part runs both and the worse one wins. You set how many days ahead to warn, and how little of a part's own interval should be left before it starts nagging; the list sorts overdue first, undated next, due soon after that.
The equipment AI arrives already holding your machines — worst condition first, each with its meter reading, when that meter was last read, what rig it sits on, and every part's status worked out by the same rule the screens use. He can lay out a whole service plan, and every line comes tagged with where it came from: the book, the web, or an honest guess. It lands with no clock started and badged to check the book, because he can't know when yours was last done.
A low-stock line answers "am I under the mark." The forecast answers the question the mark was guessing at: when does the truck actually run dry? It reads what jobs really consumed, turns that into a burn rate, and gives you days left and a date to order by. It refuses to guess on thin evidence — too few uses, or too short a history, and it stays quiet rather than hand you a confident wrong date.
Every change to a count says why: used, spilled, damaged, expired, lost, stolen, returned, found, corrected. What a job was expected to use and what actually got measured out sit side by side and are deliberately never added together — a single number that mixes the two can't tell you whether you have a pricing problem or a shrinkage problem.
Two opposite obligations, one book. Their lights on your shelf over summer: you owe those back, and if they get crushed that's on you. Your lights on their house for the season: that's your stock, off site, and somebody has to go and collect it. Box labels, where it's sitting, install dates, takedown-by dates, and overdue flags that come off the takedown date — and the same book appears on that customer's own file, so the two can never disagree about what's late.
In the run-up to the lights season the dashboard starts counting it for you: how many customers' sets you're holding, how many of those already have a visit booked, and how many are still nobody's job. It only appears if you actually have sets in storage, and it leaves when the season does.