We will build five Nigerian businesses a website that sells for them. Free.

A study-abroad agency in Abuja, in a trade where agents say “you qualify”, take the fee and go quiet. The assessment turns grades and budget into a dated plan and plays every WhatsApp message the client would get from today to landing, so the follow-up is sold before the first call.

A skin clinic that sells courses of treatment, not single appointments. The assessment makes a visitor describe their own skin first, so the plan it returns feels written for them, and the clinic knows what a lead is worth before it answers.

Consultants selling an engagement nobody buys cold. The scorecard makes a visitor grade their own business and see where they rank, so the call is booked by someone who has already diagnosed themselves.

A dental practice competing with people who hide their prices. Publishing every fee removes the phone call that was losing patients, and the payment plan turns treatment they would postpone into treatment they start this month.

A bespoke Alté perfume house in Lagos, in a category where nobody can smell anything before they buy and every rival answers that with a lecture about bergamot. Three sliders put the buyer on a map of the whole range and name the one oil that fits, and say plainly when none of them does, which is why the other five recommendations get believed.

Solar engineers for Abuja homes and offices, in a trade where every rival quotes a system over WhatsApp without ever seeing the roof. The site counts the household's real load and lays panels on their actual roof before anyone drives out, so the engineer's first visit is a survey for a buyer instead of a free consultation for a browser.

Marque specialists for German cars in Abuja. The site takes the job card before anyone phones, so a stranger arrives as a booked bay with the work already priced, and the workshop stops losing mornings to quoting.

An event venue that lives or dies on whether your date is free. It answers “does it fit and what does it cost” at the moment of interest, so it takes deposits from people who would otherwise have rung three other halls.

Installers of CCTV and access control across Abuja compounds. Letting clients draw their own coverage turns a vague “how much for cameras” into a counted, specified job, so every survey visit is to a buyer who already knows the number.

A renovation firm bidding against builders who quote low and drift. Building the budget room by room, in the open, filters out the people with no money and wins the ones who wanted a straight answer, before a site visit is spent on either.

A private dining room sold by the evening rather than the cover. Naming the room, the minimum spend and the deposit on the spot turns a browsing party into a held date, so the kitchen knows its week by Monday.

Nine shortlet apartments that earn nothing on an empty night. Showing the whole board at once means a guest whose first choice is taken books a different key instead of leaving for another listing.

Painters whose customers stall for months over choosing a colour. Seeing it on a real wall ends the stalling, and measuring the room turns that decision straight into a priced, dated job.

A lounge whose revenue is table minimums, not the door. Showing which tables are still free tonight, with the spend for that exact date, takes the deposit while the group is still deciding where to go.