A mother whose son turns fifteen next month sits down after dinner and searches driving schools in your town. She gets a map with three pins. She does not know what makes a good instructor, so she reads reviews, looks at how recently anyone posted, and rings the two that look like real, currently operating businesses. You have taught for eighteen years without a single incident. None of that is visible on that screen.
You know the listing needs attention. But you are in a car with a nervous sixteen-year-old for six hours a day, and the evenings go on scheduling, on the paperwork your state requires, and on the parents who ring at nine to ask about hours. Marketing is a job for a person you do not employ.
So you take the enquiries that come from word of mouth and the high school noticeboard, and the school that started three years ago with a proper listing takes the search traffic. Their instructors are not better than you. They are just visible in the month people book.
Then September arrives, the calendar empties out, and you have a fixed insurance bill, two cars sitting still, and eight months to think about a summer that should have been full.