It rarely shows on any list. It's the mental weight of holding a household together — carried quietly, all day, mostly by women. Alice was built to take that weight, not add to it.
There are no menus, no forms, no categories to learn. You say what's on your mind — Alice knows what to take, what to bring back for a tap, and what to leave firmly yours.
The errands whose value is only in getting done — refilling gas, restocking your usual groceries. Off your plate, with a receipt every time.
The jobs that need a person — a fix, a delivery to the village. Alice lines up trusted, rated options; you choose; she manages it end to end.
Bedtime stories. Sunday cooking. The moments whose whole value is that you are in them. Alice never touches these — she clears the load around them so you're free to be present.
Every new thing Alice does starts by simply telling you. You hand over more only when you're ready, and you can take it back the instant you want to — no friction, no guilt.
At first, Alice only flags things — "you're low on gas." Nothing moves until you say so.
She prepares the whole thing — the cart, the price, the vendor — and waits for one tap from you.
Once you're comfortable, let her act on her own up to a monthly limit you set. Big or unusual spends always come back for your say-so.
Money separated into envelopes you control — gas, groceries, errands. Every spend sends a receipt the moment it happens.
Alice confirms real stock and the real price with the seller before a single naira moves. You never overpay for a listing that was out of date.
Change from a refill, a refund on a swap — it's credited straight back. Your model is yours: export it or delete it, any time.
Alice grows into a whole-home assistant — but she begins with the everyday things that quietly eat your week. You add more only as you trust her with it.
Alice measures her success in one thing only: the time she hands back to you. Not more time in an app — more time at the table, on the floor, in the moment.