Admin consoles
The private side of a public site. Staff manage records, work the queue, and publish updates without touching code.
UPA Hillsborough runs on oneIf your operation runs on spreadsheets, group texts, and a whiteboard, an app replaces the parts that keep breaking. Built to your process, not the other way around.
The line is simple. If the problem is that people can’t find you, you need a website. If the problem is what happens after they do, you need an app.
The private side of a public site. Staff manage records, work the queue, and publish updates without touching code.
UPA Hillsborough runs on oneClients log in to see their own jobs, documents, invoices, or progress — instead of emailing you to ask.
Cuts the “any update?” emailsJobs, crews, and calendars in one place, with assignment and status that the field can update from a phone.
Replaces the group textStock, equipment, or fleet with locations, check-in and check-out, and alerts before you run short.
Barcode scanning optionalThe five numbers you actually run the business on, pulled from the systems you already use and updated on their own.
No more Monday spreadsheetDocument generation, intake summarising, and drafting built into a real workflow rather than bolted on as a chatbot.
DocSmith is one of mineEvery app is assembled from the same handful of parts. Select the ones that sound like your situation and you’ll get a plain-language spec plus a range — no email required.
$1,000 – $2,500
10–15 days
A small internal tool. Two weeks, one clear job, and something your team can use immediately.
Turn this into a real quoteA planning estimate, not a quote. Real numbers come after one conversation.
A public league site backed by a role-based console. Registrations arrive as applications and wait in one queue; placing an applicant on a team is what turns them into a player, and teams, rosters, schedules, and event pages all update from the same place. Volunteers get the access they need and nothing else.
My own product, and the clearest proof of what I can build for someone else. Customer and engagement records, templated document generation, and AI assistance wired into the workflow rather than sitting beside it.
Coaches, crews, and volunteers use the app between other jobs, on whatever phone is in their pocket. Every screen is designed for that first, then given room to spread out on a laptop — not shrunk down afterwards.
Added to the home screen it opens like any other app — full screen, own icon, no app store.
The actions people repeat all day sit in the lower half of the screen, at 44px or larger.
Wide data tables become stacked cards on a phone rather than something you pinch and drag.
Forms are laid out one question at a time and ask only for the fields the job needs, so nothing that matters sits below the fold.
Each screen is designed around a single task, so nobody standing in a car park is hunting through a layout drawn for a monitor.
Checked on actual phones, in daylight, one-handed — not by dragging a browser window narrow.
Apps go wrong when nobody agrees what they are. I fix the shape before I write the code, then show you real screens early enough to change your mind.
Including the spreadsheets and the workarounds. The awkward parts are usually where the value is.
A written spec: the screens, who can see what, and what the app stores. You approve it and the price before anything is built.
One working area at a time, on a preview link you can log into. You see progress weekly instead of waiting for a reveal.
Import what you have and run a week in parallel with the old way. That’s the only test that finds the real problems.
Training for whoever uses it, written notes for whoever maintains it, and the source code in your account. I stay on hand for fixes once you’re live.
Twenty minutes is usually enough for me to tell you whether an app is worth building, and roughly what it would take.
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