Ask your own estate what your company does. The whole estate, every page an agent could retrieve, not just the homepage. You will get about five answers. You are a platform on the pages written this year, a suite from the last rebrand, a toolkit before that, a service somewhere in the middle, and something nobody would say aloud any more on more pages than you would like.
This is sedimentation, not sloppiness. Positioning changes every eighteen to twenty-four months, and each change writes a new layer of pages over the old without going back to rewrite what came before. The words in the boardroom move. The words on the estate stay. Every era of how you described yourself is still down there, still indexed, still being read.
Here is why it bites now in a way it never did. A person browsing self-corrects: reads the homepage, gets the current story, discounts the old page as obviously dated. An agent does no such thing. It retrieves across the whole estate at once and averages. It has no way to know which of your five descriptions you would stand behind today, so it blends them, and the blend is a company that does not quite exist.
You can see this for yourself without a tool. Pull the figures and descriptions that say who you are, a customer count, a price, a founding date, a one-line description, and set the pages side by side. Where two of them differ, you have found two versions of you, both live, both retrievable. Cedar does this across the whole estate and shows both versions with both addresses. She never says which is right. That is yours to decide.
Reconciliation is the fix, and it is a decision before it is a rewrite: one canonical answer to each question about who you are, and the old answers retired rather than left to drift, so that whichever page an agent reaches, it reaches the same company. Until then you are described, accurately, by every version of yourself you have ever published. The current one is just outnumbered.
Your newest message is your least-published one.