No, but seriously.
You're grafting your gat off in your business.
Then okes Google you, and…
Niks. Dololo. Fokol.
The internet says you don't exist.
They believe it.

Let's sommer try it right now.
Google your own business.
Go on, I'll wait.
Ja??
Ja.
Look, I'm not here to make you feel bad. Life is busy. Load shedding is real.
There's at least eleventy seven things more urgent than your website on any given Tuesday.
But here's what somebody should have told you:
Even while you're reading this, someone somewhere is looking for a business that does exactly what yours does.
They're on their phone.
They're searching.
They find Vuyo.
(Oooh, that Vuyo… he's such a beeg beeg dreamer).
Vuyo has a website.
Vuyo looks lekka legit.
Vuyo is getting the call.
We both know Vuyo isn't better than you.
Vuyo just showed up online when you didn't.
That's not Lekka.
You've been meaning to sort this out.
You really have.
You once got a quote from a graphic designer, and the price made you hittthhh through your teeth like you just skopped your baby toe on the bed.
That's not Lekka.
Your tjommie told you to try Wix, because “it's easy!”
So you fiddled with a D.I.Y website for a while, but quickly realized you don't need this kak in your life, and then tried to calm your shattered nerves with a Klippies and Coke.
That's not Lekka.
Meanwhile Vuyo (and there IS a Vuyo in your industry, you know exactly who I'm talking about) sorted his website out ages ago and is clocking up new customers like clickety-click.
That's not Lekka.

Howzit! I'm Simon.
I've started more businesses than okes have opinions about Siya Kolisi at a Heritage Day braai.
Websites used to be a headache for me… cost way too much, took way too long.
Then I got Lucky.
Lucky Shabalala is the website whizz-kid who now works from my garage.
He once knocked out a website so fast, that Dricus du Plessis got "Lucky" tattooed on his fist.
The boykie's not only blitzvinnig, he's also blerrie cheap.
That's cos Lucky sukkels with maths and accounting.
Unlucky for him.
Lekka for you.
A website you'll actually want to show people.
So you can finally stop saying "excuse the website, it's a bit old".
A continuous scrolling page, just like this one.
Words so rich and creamy you'd expect to find them in the fridge.
When okes read them, they won't just let you in, they'll put you on top.
Copy written for your business that makes you impossible to forget.
Pictures that don't look like you took them on a Nokia 3310.
So your brand sizzles like a Checkers boerewors advert.
Whatever you send us, Lucky will make it look lekka.
A website that sweats while you sleep.
So you can finally stop being Mzansi's best kept secret.
Start collecting customers like Rassie collects trophies.
Now that's Lekka.
All this for
R2,950
Ja, you read that right the first time.
Don't worry, we're not mal in the kop.
Just now we'll put the price all the way up to five grand.
Klap the Yebo! button at the bottom, and fill in the blanks. I'll come back to you within 24 hours with a questionnaire and an invoice.
Then this happens:
It's online. Twenty minutes. Everything about your business: who you are, what you do, why you're better than Vuyo. That last part is important.
Write it down. Lucky needs to know. The more detail you give me, the more lekka this gets. The less detail you give me, the more it will look like you Googled "free website" at midnight.
Oh ja, and then you pay. R2,950 by bank transfer with the proof of payment. No negotiating.
This is the part where you don't hear from us. No updates. No "just checking in." I write the words. Lucky builds the website.
This is how it works. This is why it works.
Seven days later, you have a finished website. Not a draft. Not a concept.
A live and lekka website that would make Vuyo catch a skrik.
You'll get one round of changes: "move this… fix that… my wife has opinions about the font". We make the tweaks. We connect your domain. We publish.
Then you spend three days WhatsApping the link to everyone you've ever met in your entire life, because you finally have something worth showing people.
You're not losing business 'cos your product is bad.
You're not losing business 'cos your price is wrong.
You're not losing business 'cos your service isn't lekka.
You're losing business 'cos nobody can find you.
And while you've been busy actually doing the work (the real work, the work that pays the bills) Vuyo has been quietly snatching up the customers that should be coming to you.
Not 'cos Vuyo deserves it, but 'cos Vuyo has a website.
That already happened this week.
The longer you sit back and watch, the worse it gets.
Right now, Vuyo is opening your lunchbox and stealing your sarmies.
Just now you'll be hungry… then what?
R2,950 is all it takes to choon Vuyo to voetsek.
R2,950 (but only for a little while).
One continuous scrolling page. Words. Pictures. Domain connection. One revision round.
SEO management, social media, ongoing updates, and anything that makes it sound like we're in a long-term relationship. If you need stuff like that (and you might) I'll hook you up with the right okes.
Exactly one week (7 days) after I receive your completed questionnaire. If it arrives on a Tuesday, you'll get your website the next Tuesday. Weekends don't count. If you send it through on a Saturday or Sunday, the clock starts on Monday.
We send you an invoice. You pay the full amount upfront with a bank transfer. Lucky doesn't start until it's confirmed. He didn't say that, but it's still true.
You get one round of changes. If you come back with forty-seven changes, Lucky will ignore you. I'll respond, but it won't be lekka.
Don't be silly.
You know what it costs.
You know how long it takes.
You know Lucky is already waiting in the garage.
Some okes maak 'n plan. Other okes go hungry.
The question is, which one are you?
R2,950. 7 Days. 3 Spots this week.
There's one with your name on if you want it.