Go ahead. Say it. “Websites are so last century. Everyone’s on Instagram now.”
And while you’re at it, build your entire business on land you don’t own, in a town where the mayor can change the rules — or the rent — overnight. See how that works out.
Here’s the thing nobody tells you when social media is shiny and free and full of followers: you don’t own any of it. Not your Instagram page. Not your Facebook audience. Not your TikTok presence. Those platforms own your audience, and they will happily hold them hostage the moment it suits their algorithm, their advertisers, or their lawyers. One policy change, one account suspension, one platform implosion (remember MySpace? Vine? Twitter becoming X becoming a question mark?) and your entire digital presence vanishes. Poof.
Your website, on the other hand? That’s yours. The domain, the content, the data, the email list — yours. It doesn’t disappear because Mark Zuckerberg had a bad quarter.
But nobody Googles anymore, right?
Wrong. Google processes roughly 8.5 billion searches a day. People searching for what you do, in your area, right now. A well-built website shows up in those searches. Your Instagram bio does not.
And when someone does hear about you — through a referral, a social post, an ad — where’s the first place they go to decide whether you’re legitimate? Your website. It’s your shopfront, your CV, and your handshake, all in one. A bad one (or no one) and they’re already looking at your competitor.
“But I have a template on Squarespace…”
Templates are fine. A template you set up in 2019, haven’t touched since, loads slowly on mobile, and has your old phone number on it? That’s not a website. That’s a liability wearing a website’s clothes.
A website that works — fast, findable, functional, designed to convert visitors into enquiries — doesn’t build itself. It needs thought, skill, and occasional maintenance by someone who actually knows what they’re doing. That’s not a sales pitch; it’s just plumbing. Ignore it long enough and things start leaking.
So why bother paying someone like me?
Because you’re good at what you do, and I’m good at this. You wouldn’t rewire your own electrics to save money. A website done badly costs more than one done right — in lost credibility, lost leads, and the awkward moment a potential client lands on your site and quietly closes the tab.
Websites aren’t last century. Neglecting yours is.