Mateo Salgado fixes things for a living — alone, in one van. Between nine and six he is under sinks and on ladders, and that is exactly when the people he already fixed something for write back. This is one ordinary day of the AI employee he hires first: Ruby, AI Customer Support Agent. Hour by hour.

Mateo runs Casa Lista Home Repair in Tampa. He takes the jobs that get fixed in one visit, and one man can only do so many of those in a day. The messages keep coming anyway: the gate from last spring, the faucet from last month, a question in Spanish about the air conditioner. None of these people are shopping. They already paid him. They want an answer, and when nobody answers, a small question turns into a bad review.

That is Ruby’s whole job: the people who have already bought.

9:00 — the gate from last spring

A comment under Casa Lista’s Facebook post: the gate Mateo fixed is sagging again, what should I check? Ruby answers from Mateo’s own advice, not from the internet: check the hinges first, then the post — nine times out of ten it’s the hinges. One step at a time, one question at a time. No “read the manual.”

Morning at a cream stucco garden wall with coral bougainvillea: Ruby, the AI customer support specialist, kneels in her headset and points at the loose cross board of a sagging wooden gate while the owner, a gray-haired woman in a denim shirt, holds the gate up and looks where she points.
Check the hinges first, then the post — nine times out of ten it’s the hinges.

10:30 — “Is this covered?”

An Instagram Direct message. The faucet Mateo repaired is dripping again. Ruby first says the problem back in the customer’s words — the kitchen faucet, repaired last month, dripping at the base — and asks if she got it right.

Then the real question: is it covered? Mateo never wrote a warranty rule down. So Ruby doesn’t make one up. “I don’t have that. I’ll ask Mateo rather than guess.” An invented rule is worse than silence: the customer would hold Mateo to it.

A bright cream kitchen, over a customer’s shoulder: she points at the base of a brass faucet, and Ruby, in her headset and a linen jacket, points to the same spot with a blank folder in her other hand.
“I don’t have that. I’ll ask Mateo rather than guess.”

12:15 — a message in Spanish

A Telegram message about water running down the wall under the air conditioner. It’s in Spanish, so Ruby answers in Spanish, from Mateo’s tip: change the filter every season and clean the drain at the same time. The next line comes in English, and she switches back. Nothing to configure; the answer means the same thing in both languages.

A sunny backyard at noon: a white-haired man in a denim shirt kneels by the outdoor air conditioner holding a dusty old filter, a clean new one leaning beside it, while Ruby, a folder under her arm, points at the water stain running down the wall.
It’s in Spanish, so Ruby answers in Spanish.

1:40 — “It’s me, just send the address”

Someone writes that they rent the house Mateo worked on and asks for the owner’s details. A chat has no ID. Ruby doesn’t confirm who is writing and doesn’t share another customer’s address or job. The request goes to Mateo, together with everything the person already said.

3:20 — the unhappy one

A customer is upset about the last visit and wants money taken off the bill. Ruby doesn’t argue, and she doesn’t promise anything in Mateo’s name. Money is his word, never hers. She writes the complaint down as facts — what happened, when, what the customer wants — and hands Mateo the whole conversation, not a retelling. The customer is told the truth: this is with Mateo, and the answer will come from him.

Afternoon on a porch with a coral door: an upset man in a white polo leans forward from his chair, arguing with his hand raised, while Ruby sits calmly across from him, slipping a blank sheet into a folder with her other palm open; two folders rest on the railing.
Ruby doesn’t argue, and she doesn’t promise anything in Mateo’s name.

5:00 — the same question, again

Someone asks, one more time this week, how long a faucet repair lasts. Ruby’s log makes it visible: the same question asked again and again isn’t many customers, it’s one hole in how the service is described. Mateo’s own advice already holds the answer — a cartridge repair lasts months, a new faucet lasts years. It belongs in the service description, and Ruby points it out to him.

6:00 — Mateo’s day ends

Mateo finishes his last job and opens his personal messages. Waiting for him: the warranty question, the address request, the complaint. Each one arrives as a case with the full conversation attached. He decides. Nobody had to tell their story twice.

Ruby’s day doesn’t end at six. People notice the drip in the evening and on weekends. She is there then, too.

Early evening on a quiet Tampa street: Mateo, in a tool belt, sits at the open side door of his white van and takes a stack of folders from Ruby, who stands in her headset and a light cardigan.
Ruby’s day doesn’t end at six.

Hire the AI employee first

That is the order we suggest. Before you hire a person to sit on messages, hire an AI employee for the questions that come after the sale, and see what is left. What’s left for Mateo is what should be his: the money, his rules, and the customers who need him in person.

Ruby works where customers write: Facebook Messenger, Instagram Direct and Telegram, and the comments under your Facebook and Instagram posts. In her first reply she says she’s an AI.

Setting her up is a conversation, not a screen to learn. In the ChatGPT, Claude or Gemini app you already use, you describe what you do, how warranty works for you, what you never promise, and when she should call you in.

See the work before you hire

Casa Lista and Tampa Pasta House are sample businesses we run ourselves, open to anyone at smashone.us/examples. AI employees post and answer there on Facebook, Instagram and Telegram. Write to them the way your customers write to you after the job — and see who answers.

SMASHONE CORPORATION, Florida, United States