Which department, which doctor, which day — it answers, books, and hands the urgent ones to a person. Uzbek, Russian or English.
Uzbek · Russian · English
Three things that happen in every clinic with more than one door. With and without.
The receptionist is on the phone explaining MRI prices. In front of her, four people with money in their hands. Nobody moves.
The phone quotes the MRI. The receptionist takes four payments. Nobody in the queue has to learn what an MRI costs.
"Who do I see about my back?" Line three. "Is Dr. Sultanov in today?" Line seven. "Where do I get results?" Line twelve. One operator.
The assistant takes all three. Your operator takes the one call that needed her: the man standing outside the wrong building.
Flu season. 600 names on the list. The nurse who "will ring them this week" has a ward round first, and then another.
Your agent rings the 600. 71 say yes and pick a day. The nurse keeps her ward round.
One assistant that knows your departments, your doctors and your lab hours. Three doors.
Calls and messages, day and night, in the caller's language — whichever of your lines they came in on.
Into the right doctor's diary, or the ultrasound and MRI slots, with the right duration for each.
A department extension by day, the duty doctor at night; a question for a human waits for one.
Every conversation, in text, with a one-line verdict — resolved or not — and what the patient wanted.
Rings your list — flu jabs due, screening due, check-ups due — and tells you who said yes and when.
On your phone, wherever you are: calls by the hour, visits booked, who is waiting to hear from you.
Every owner gets it. This is what an ordinary morning at a multi-specialty clinic looks like on it.
Included with every account — on phone, tablet and desktop.
A PDF, a Word file or your website: departments, doctors and their days, services, prices, lab timings. That's the whole training.
Your own PBX — all thirty lines stay yours — or a number we set up. Your operator keeps her phone; the assistant takes what she can't.
Start with nights and the eleven o'clock rush. Switch it off from your phone whenever you like.
No. It takes the calls she can't: the ones at night, the twenty ringing while she's on one, the "which department" questions. She keeps the desk — and the till.
It says so, offers a person, and takes a message that lands with the call record. A price it wasn't given, it doesn't quote; a diagnosis, it doesn't attempt.
No. It writes a transcript you can read, and a one-line summary. No audio is stored.
Uzbek, Russian and English, switching mid-call if the patient does. Twenty more on request.
No. It knows which department sees what, when each doctor is in and what to bring. Symptoms go to a doctor — by transfer or by booking — not to a guess.
Price after a short call — it depends on your lines and departments, not on a table.