About the service
A form is the narrowest part of a website. Everything above it — the design, the texts, the traffic you paid for — only counts if a visitor fills the fields in, presses the button and the message actually arrives. So I do not start with markup. I start with a conversation about which requests your business really needs, what happens to them the next morning, and which questions a person can be asked without scaring them off. The set of fields grows out of that conversation, not the other way round.
Most of the work lives in details nobody notices while things are fine. Instead of a red border the visitor gets a sentence in plain language: what to correct and why. The phone field carries a mask, the mail address is checked for a real format, attachments are accepted only in the types and sizes we agreed on, and an oversized file is refused before the page reloads and wipes everything typed. Spam is cut off quietly — hidden traps, fill-in timing, checks on the server side — rather than by picture puzzles that make an honest customer give up halfway.
Delivery is built to survive a bad day. The request is duplicated into mail and into your accounting system, the visitor lands on a thank-you page with a useful next step instead of a blank screen, and at the end of each period you receive a short report: how many requests came in and how many were actually delivered. The request is written into the database before the letter is sent — otherwise a mail server failure simply means a lost client. The form collects only what is genuinely needed: extra required fields lower the number of requests and create personal data nobody has to store. The consent checkbox is never pre-ticked and leads to a text a person can really read.
What the work includes:
— a short analysis of the requests that matter and the fields that earn their place;
— human error messages, phone masks, a real check of the mail address;
— file uploads with limits on type and size, and an honest refusal when they are exceeded;
— quiet anti-spam without irritating puzzles;
— delivery to mail plus your accounting system, with the database as the safety net;
— a thank-you page with a next step and a regular report on delivered requests.
Most of the work lives in details nobody notices while things are fine. Instead of a red border the visitor gets a sentence in plain language: what to correct and why. The phone field carries a mask, the mail address is checked for a real format, attachments are accepted only in the types and sizes we agreed on, and an oversized file is refused before the page reloads and wipes everything typed. Spam is cut off quietly — hidden traps, fill-in timing, checks on the server side — rather than by picture puzzles that make an honest customer give up halfway.
Delivery is built to survive a bad day. The request is duplicated into mail and into your accounting system, the visitor lands on a thank-you page with a useful next step instead of a blank screen, and at the end of each period you receive a short report: how many requests came in and how many were actually delivered. The request is written into the database before the letter is sent — otherwise a mail server failure simply means a lost client. The form collects only what is genuinely needed: extra required fields lower the number of requests and create personal data nobody has to store. The consent checkbox is never pre-ticked and leads to a text a person can really read.
What the work includes:
— a short analysis of the requests that matter and the fields that earn their place;
— human error messages, phone masks, a real check of the mail address;
— file uploads with limits on type and size, and an honest refusal when they are exceeded;
— quiet anti-spam without irritating puzzles;
— delivery to mail plus your accounting system, with the database as the safety net;
— a thank-you page with a next step and a regular report on delivered requests.
