I protected institutions for a living. I built this for the rest of us.

For most of my career, my job was other people's worst day. I ran technology inside a bank, then built products in fintech — the person responsible when the systems holding people's money, identities, and most sensitive records had to not fail. You learn to obsess over the boring parts: where data lives, who can touch it, and what happens at 1 a.m. when something breaks and a real person is on the other end.

Here's what nobody tells you: the scariest exposures aren't dramatic. They're quiet — a default nobody questioned, sensitive information sitting somewhere it was never meant to live because it was convenient once and then forgotten. The risk was never the movie version. It was neglect that compounded.

Then I'd go home and watch the people I love do exactly what I spent all day preventing at work. Passport numbers in an email thread. A medical history living in one person's head. Insurance, accounts, important documents — scattered across a drawer, a note, a photo on somebody's phone. The same data I'd build vaults to protect at an institution was, at home, just… loose. Not because anyone's careless — because no one was ever handed the thing big organizations take for granted.

That gap is why I built Simply Once: put your important information in one place, once; share it with the people who need it in a tap; and know that no one — including us — can read it. Not "we take privacy seriously." Architecturally can't — the same standard I'd have demanded with a regulator standing behind me.

I don't think privacy is a niche concern for paranoid people. I think it's table stakes the rest of us were quietly never given.