You can’t answer the phone from a panel swap.

Anyone who reports sparks, a burning smell, or smoke gets one instruction: hang up and call 911. That's by design — a life-safety call was never yours to take as a message. Everything short of that — a breaker that keeps tripping, half the house dark — gets the full treatment: what's happening, how bad, when they're home, texted to you with the recording.

Some will — the same ones who hang up on voicemail. That's the honest comparison, because the alternative to this agent isn't you answering; it's voicemail. 27% of home-services calls already go unanswered, and fewer than 3% of callers pushed to voicemail leave a message (Invoca, 2024). The agent says it's an AI in its first sentence — no tricks on your customers — and anyone who asks for a person gets you — a live transfer straight to your cell, or a text with the callback, your choice. Never a call center. Most callers just want to leave their problem with someone who answers.

You do — at cost, on your own accounts, straight to the providers. About a dime a minute all-in, roughly a quarter per call; most small shops — five or six answered calls a day — land at $35–45 a month. We never touch that money and never mark it up. It's itemized on the spec plate above, line by line.

Your agent keeps answering. That's not a promise — it's the wiring. The phone number, the minutes, the AI: every account is opened in your name from day one. At delivery you also hold the agent's complete build — the prompts, the settings, a plain-English redeploy doc. If Anvilcall vanished tomorrow, nothing you bought goes with us.

Nothing wears out. There's no server of ours to keep running and no code to rot: the agent is provider accounts in your name plus a configuration written down in black and white. If a provider changes something someday, that's a settings change on your own accounts — the redeploy doc covers it, step by step. And hello@anvilcall.com still answers after your 90 days are up — asking a question was never a subscription.

You've probably been pitched three of these this week. Here's what's different — you own this one. Most of what hits your inbox is a reseller renting you the same software for $250–500 a month, on their account, with their markup on your minutes. We build yours once, on your accounts, hand you the keys, and have nothing left to bill you for.

No — on purpose. Software that books jobs sight-unseen double-books you and books junk. The agent takes the message, asks what's broken and how bad, notes when the caller is free, and texts it all to you. You call back, you quote, you book. Fifteen seconds of your judgment beats an algorithm guessing at your Tuesday.

Most agents answer their first call within a week of your reply to the intake email. The build is our work, not yours — the calendar mostly moves at the speed of your intake replies. And the 90-day guarantee clock starts the day the agent goes live on your number, never the day you paid.

Never — unless you want one. Everything runs in writing: the exact quote comes by email, and your questions get answered by reply — by Robin, a real person, usually the same day. Writing isn't a dodge; it's a paper trail you can hold us to. And if you want to hear a voice, that's exactly what the demo line is — the product speaking for itself. Call it as many times as you want. We'll never make you book a call to see a price.

No. $2,500 is the only money we ever take, through Stripe, once — no card on file, no auto-renew, nothing to cancel. The ongoing costs are the usage fees above, paid by you, directly to the providers, on accounts you control. If a 'one-time deal' ever burned you, that's exactly the trap this structure makes impossible: there's no plug we can pull and nothing we can repossess.