We hold health information about people in their own homes. Is that safe in a system like this?
It has to be, and it changes how we build. Care records sit in an access-controlled store with per-person permissions and a log of every open, retention set to what your regulator and your insurer require, and no health detail sent to any outside service without that being written into the scope you sign. We would rather have that conversation at the first meeting than discover it at the end.
Would software ever decide which carer goes to which client?
No. It narrows the options — who is free, who can get there in time, who has the training this client needs — and puts three workable choices in front of your coordinator. The match is a human decision every time, because the fit between a carer and a person living alone is not a scheduling problem and pretending it is would be dangerous.
A lot of our customers do not use the internet. Does that make this pointless?
Not at all, and it changes what we build rather than whether we build. The phone stays. What we do is make sure the call gets written down once, properly, and reaches a technician or a coordinator with the address history attached. The online part is often for the daughter in Fishers who is arranging things, not for the person in the house.
Money is tight. How do we know this pays for itself?
You pick the number first. Before we build anything we agree what the system is supposed to move — missed visits, uncovered shifts, second call-outs to the same fault — and how you will read that number without asking us. If it does not move, the work has failed on its own terms and we would rather find that out on a small first build than a big one.
What happens to our client and visit records if we stop using you?
They go with you, in full, in an open format, at no charge and without a conversation about it. That is written down before you pay anything. Care and repair histories are records a family may need years later. A firm that made them hard to retrieve would deserve everything said about it in a town where everybody knows everybody.
You have written about a town with no businesses in it. Are we not the Shadeland strip?
You are not, and the distinction is the reason this page reads differently from an Indianapolis one. Warren Park is 0.45 square miles of houses platted in 1913, bounded by Pleasant Run on the west and cut by East 10th Street. The dealerships, tyre shops and bank branches on North Shadeland Avenue are Indianapolis addresses on the far side of the line, and we will not list them here as though they were local colour — a mapping query hands them over because a bounding box does not know where a town ends. The regulated-sites register shows nothing inside the town at all. What is really here is housing, an ageing population and a town board, and the businesses that matter to it come in from outside.
Our town office is tiny. Is any of this relevant to the board?
Possibly, but honestly a town of 1,490 usually needs one thing done well rather than a system. Getting notices, agendas and minutes posted once and archived automatically is normally the whole useful project. If the board is being asked for anything more elaborate than that, ask hard questions about who benefits.
Where is the AI, and where is it deliberately absent?
It reads incoming messages and sorts them, it spots urgent wording in a request, and it sequences a day of trips. It is absent from every judgment about a person: who is safe to visit alone, what counts as an emergency, who gets a tenancy. Those go to a person, and SolaceSentry holds anything outbound until somebody releases it.