There’s a sentence that has paid for a lot of spreadsheets over the years: “We’ll submit your business to 500 directories.” You’ve seen the gig listings. Fifty dollars, two hundred dollars, doesn’t matter — the deliverable is always the same. A PDF arrives. It has a long list of directory names in it. Nobody, in the history of local marketing, has ever clicked through that list.
And the frustrating part is that the underlying work is real. Search engines cross-check your name, address, and phone across the directories they trust, and a business that’s consistently listed reads as a business that exists. The work matters. It’s just that the work is two hundred near-identical forms, so it either gets skipped, or it gets “done” in a way that’s suspiciously hard to verify.
So we built the version that can’t lie.
One profile, written once
The board lives at /u/you/directories. It starts with your business profile — pulled from what your workspace already knows about the company, not typed into yet another form. If something’s missing, the board says so before anything is filed: 12 of your selected directories ask for a phone number, and you haven’t got one on file. A submission with a blank field isn’t a submission. It’s a rejection with a delivery date.
Below the profile: 309 curated directories, grouped by category and region, each one declaring exactly which fields it asks for. Pick some, pick a category, pick all of them. Launch.
The part that can’t be faked
Every selected directory becomes one row on a board, and every row has a status: queued, submitted, rejected — or live. That last one is the whole product, because a row can only turn live when it carries the listing’s URL. Not “done.” Not a checkmark. The link. The status ratchets forward and never quietly back, rejections keep their reason, and what your client gets at the end isn’t a PDF of directory names. It’s a table of links they can click.
The industry’s favourite sentence doesn’t compile here. There is no way to say “submitted everywhere” — there is only a board with some green rows, each one carrying its evidence.
The agent types. You submit.
Filing two hundred forms is still two hundred forms, so there’s a second pair of hands: an agent that works inside your own Chrome. It reads the queued packs, opens each directory’s submit page, and fills the form — name into the name field, phone into the phone field, description trimmed to whatever limit that particular directory enforces.
Then it stops.
You look at the filled form, and you click submit. Every single time. The agent never submits on its own, never creates accounts, and never touches a captcha — when a site challenges, a human answers, because you’re sitting right there in your own logged-in browser. Every filing is stamped with who did it, human or agent, so over time there’s an honest per-directory record of where the agent’s work gets accepted cleanly.
That record is the road to running unattended — per directory, earned from evidence, and deliberately not today. Same reason paid directories get a flag and never a charge: the board files listings, it doesn’t spend your money.
Two hundred forms become two hundred approvals. The agent does the typing. You keep the judgment.
The receipt table is the product. Everything else is just typing.