Edinburgh fills twice a year. Your phone shouldn't ring out either time.
Edinburgh runs two restaurants in one building: the August one, where the Festival quadruples the city and every table from the Old Town to Stockbridge is fought over, and the rest-of-the-year one, where locals reclaim Leith and a quiet Tuesday matters. The phone is a different problem in each — and unanswered in both.
The missed-call problem, Edinburgh-style
A ringing phone during service is a booking walking out.
In Festival season the calls come faster than any human can take them, in every accent a fringe show can import, at hours that make no sense. In November they're sparse but precious: a fiftieth birthday, an office Christmas booking, a food tourist planning around one dinner. Missing the August flood costs volume; missing the November call costs the whole night.
Vox answers both seasons the same way — instantly, warmly, with the diary open. It books what the room can truly take, hands anything delicate to your team, and keeps a transcript of every call. Running live in Australia today, and now taking Edinburgh pilot venues.
During a Edinburgh service
Where the phone loses you money — and what answering it changes.
Fringe week, phone on fire
Forty calls an hour, half of them for tonight. Vox answers all of them at once, fills the diary to what the kitchen can survive, and politely lands the overflow on other nights.
The one-dinner tourist
A caller planning a trip around a single booking, three time zones away, ringing at 3am your time. Vox is awake, the diary is open, and the table is confirmed before they lose their nerve.
January Tuesday, skeleton crew
Two staff on, one delivery arriving, phone rings. It's a party of twelve for Burns Night. Vox takes every detail down properly — the kind of booking a rushed scribble on a pad gets wrong.
Hogmanay, everyone's one night
The city sells out and every caller is carrying the pressure of their single night of the year. Vox books exactly what exists, waitlists the rest honestly, and never promises a table that midnight can't hold.
The AI under the hood
Tuned for Edinburgh. A person the moment it matters.
One system, seasonally stress-tested: recognition that copes with a Festival's worth of accents, a diary connection that tells the truth under pressure, and an exit to a human that is never more than a sentence away — Edinburgh's configuration.
Peak-proof honesty
Demand never changes what the diary says. In August that discipline is the difference between a full room and an oversold one.
A world of accents
Festival callers arrive from everywhere. The listening layer is built for variety and trained further by every Edinburgh pilot call.
Knows both towns
Old Town or New Town, Leith or Morningside — place names land correctly in the notes, so staff know exactly which caller is which.
Rules before cleverness
Sensitive calls go to people. Data stays within UK GDPR. The clever part is knowing where cleverness should stop.
Across Edinburgh
The neighbourhoods venues call from.
- Old Town
- New Town
- Stockbridge
- Leith
- Bruntsfield
- Morningside
- Tollcross
- Portobello
- Grassmarket
Not on the list? The pilot programme isn't drawn by postcode — a venue anywhere in the UK works exactly the same way.
We used to lose tables every Friday night just because nobody could reach the phone. Bella picks up every single call — and the bookings just appear on our screen. It paid for itself in the first week.
Edinburgh questions
Answered plainly.
Can it survive August?
Callers from overseas, odd hours — handled?
Do you understand Scottish accents?
What if a call needs a human — a complaint, say?
Is our data staying under UK rules?
Elsewhere in the UK
Also in pilot conversations with venues in
Put Vox on a Edinburgh line
Tell us how a busy service sounds at your venue and we'll show you Vox handling a call like it — live, before you commit to anything.