
Three instructors, two mats, kids' classes at 4 and 5, adults at 7, gradings every quarter — and a phone in the office nobody's in. Stella answers every call, enrols into classes with live counts, books trials and privates, keeps twice-a-week rhythms sensibly spaced, and sees the grading dates coming.
Ridge Martial Arts, this is Stella — how can I help you?
You don't need another dojo app. You need someone who picks up, knows the mat count, and keeps the family on their rhythm.
Stella knows the live count and the age band, books the trial, and explains the twice-a-week rhythm without a sales pitch.
The universal six, and two that matter when training is twice a week and gradings are dates.
No menus, no “press one”, no hold music, no disclaimer wall. Place, first name, how can I help — in one breath. Then she listens instead of interrogating. And she's there at 7:40 in the morning and 9 at night — when the parent thinks of it, not when you open.
She searches actual availability — who is where, doing what, for how long, in which chair or room — and never double-books. If she offers 2:20, 2:20 is free.
Reminders go out ahead of time. When someone can't make it, she handles the flustered call with warmth and finds the next time without drama.
A cancelled four o'clock is the one slot you can't sell tomorrow. The moment it frees, she offers it — by text — to the people who've said they'd take short notice, who wanted earlier, or who owe a make-up. First yes takes it; nobody else hears about it.
A four o'clock cancels? She asks the five o'clock if they'd like to come earlier. Nobody is obliged, and it cascades — you finish at five, not six.
Someone turns down a 9am; she stops leading with mornings for them. Preferences, never rules — and when she checks, she uses very few words.
A member's rhythm is a standing arrangement — Tuesdays and Thursdays, not two classes on one day. A missed class moves one class; the rhythm carries on. Family plans keep siblings on the same evenings.
Grading dates and closures are on the calendar; when a member's rhythm is set, she flags the collisions then — “grading week is the 12th, no regular class that Thursday” — not the day before.
She takes the 7:38 text the moment it comes — the mother doesn't have to wait until nine and forget. Runway is money: the earlier she knows, the more people she can offer the slot to once your outbound hours open, and the likelier it fills. Your policy — 24 hours' notice, a make-up credit, a fee — is yours; she states it plainly, applies it the same way every time, and never guilt-trips a parent.
Everyone on the short-notice list asked to be on it. Nobody is nagged; nobody hears another client's business.
Rain, a burst pipe, a birth, the autoclave, the hall double-booked — the whole block moves, and it's your call, not the client's. You say it once; she works out who's affected, offers each person the right alternative in their own words, waives the fee, logs the reason, and reports back. When it's an overrun rather than a closure she works by who can still act: the people who haven't left home yet get the call and the choice; the people already in the room get the honest ETA and a coffee; nobody further out is touched until the delay is still growing. Nobody hears why; nobody rings the desk.
I'm at the seminar Thursday — no classes. Offer Saturday open mat, and tell everyone by tonight.
A member's training is a standing arrangement: classes, days, instructor. Two classes on one day don't satisfy twice a week. Stella projects it forward, flags gradings and closures early, and only ever moves a single class.
Nobody leaves the mat to answer a phone. Somebody else has to.
A panel in the office: which class is next on which mat, who's new, who's grading. One button to say “move Teens to Mat 2.” Uniform suppliers and scam calls never reach the dojo.
Between classes, a glance and you know. Nothing to tap.
No “press one”. No “your call is important to us”. No recorded disclaimers before a human word. Warm, short, present — and honest if you ask what she is.
She offers what's in your catalogue and staff profiles. She won't crown a “best” anyone or promise an outcome. A time she offers is a time that's free.
A moved client hears “we need to move your Tuesday — let me find you another time.” Never who, never why. And once moved kindly, they're not yo-yo'd back.
She doesn't lead with it and doesn't apologise for it. Ask, and she'll tell you plainly: she's the assistant. She helps; that's what people remember.
Your classes and capacities per mat, your instructors and hours, your grading calendar, your family plans. She's configured by hand for the first schools — a few at a time.
Stella is in early access with a small number of practices and salons. Tell us about your phone and we'll tell you plainly whether she fits — and when.