What Your Website Must Do
Not how it should look — what it must do. The five jobs of a converting page, in the order a ready visitor needs them done, and the anatomy test to run on your own site.
Most conversations about websites are about appearance — modern, dated, clean, cluttered. But the visitor who matters isn't grading your aesthetics. They arrived with a job to be done, and your site either helps them do it or watches them leave. Function, not fashion, decides.
So put appearance aside and ask the operator's question: what does this page have to do?
The five jobs of a converting page, in the order a ready visitor needs them: tell me I'm in the right place (who you serve, what you do — in one glance); give me a reason to believe (proof I can check); answer what I'm actually asking (cost, time, process); make the next step obvious (one action, visible without scrolling on a phone); and remove my excuse to delay (respond fast, book now, no friction). Every job undone is a place visitors leak.
The jobs, unpacked
"I'm in the right place." The first glance — headline, subhead, imagery — must answer what, for whom, where. Cleverness is the enemy: "Elevating your tomorrow" tells a visitor nothing; "Family dentistry in Bedford, taking new patients" does the entire job. You have about four seconds of a stranger's attention before they decide whether the rest of the page deserves any; spend them on clarity.
A reason to believe. Within one scroll, checkable proof: the review score with volume, a named client outcome, the credentials. This is Earn Trust's material surfacing at the moment of use — the page doesn't have to contain all your proof, it has to show it exists.
Answers to the real questions. Cost, duration, process, what happens first — the questions every prospect brings and most sites refuse to touch. Answering them isn't giving away leverage; it's the precision that reads as competence, the content assistants quote, and the filter that saves your calendar from mismatched enquiries.
One obvious next step. A page can offer several ways in, but it must recommend one: the visually primary action a ready visitor can't miss. Book the consult, request the call, start the enquiry — pick the step that fits how your clients actually buy, then make everything else visibly secondary. Competing calls-to-action are how pages achieve nothing while offering everything.
No excuse to delay. The gap between "I should contact them" and "I'll do it tomorrow" is where conversions die. A form that takes thirty seconds, a response promise with teeth, a bookable calendar — each one converts a delay into a done.
The anatomy test
Run your own site through the jobs, on your phone, as a stranger: Can you tell in four seconds who it's for? Find checkable proof in one scroll? Get a price signal anywhere? Identify the next step without hunting? Complete it in under a minute? Score five jobs pass/fail per key page. Most practices fail two or three — and each failure is cheaper to fix than any redesign, because the fix is nearly always adding a stated fact or removing a competing element, not rebuilding.
Questions practices actually ask
Do I need a redesign to do these jobs? Rarely. The jobs are content and emphasis decisions that fit any competent design. A dated-looking site doing all five jobs out-converts a beautiful one doing two — though if your site also fails the bathroom test, fix that alongside.
How many pages need this treatment? Every page a stranger plausibly lands on: home, each main service, contact. Deep pages inherit trust from the shell; landing pages carry all five jobs alone.
What's the single most common failure? Job one. Practices are so close to their own work that they describe it in insider terms and forget to say the obvious thing. Read your homepage's first screen aloud and ask: would a stranger know what we do, for whom, where?
Where does the enquiry go once the page works? Exactly the right next worry — a converting page feeding an unwatched inbox just moves the leak downstream. The page is step one of the conversion chain.
Part of Get Chosen — the conversion chain.