Why I Do It

Building Resend over the past few years has been the journey of a lifetime.

I jumped in and solved problem after problem but never stopped to ask myself why I do it.

Why do I wake up at 5 a.m. to prevent abuse?
Why do I obsess about the happiness of the team?
Why do I hustle to reach competitive growth targets?

The why, my why, is what I hope to explain here.

Why Not

An easy answer is "why not." Just do, just grow, just improve, and then someday look back and marvel at what you've accomplished.

If I built a castle, wouldn't I care if it was made of boulders or sand? Wouldn't I care if it was on a pasture or a volcano? Wouldn't I care if my friends wanted to live with me there or not?

A thoughtless life is a wasted life.

Laying one brick can be foundational or ornamental. The purpose matters.

Even in the mundane, there is purpose if we care to look.

The Gardener

My grandpa was a farmer. I spent a few seasons working for him building fences, harvesting apples, and chopping blackberry bushes.

It seemed like no matter how much we did, there was always more work to be done. The moment one thing was fixed, something else needed fixing. This cycle not only repeated while I was there but was the nature of the many decades he owned that farm.

I often wondered why he kept going. Was it the profit? Was it self-worth?

I don't know the answer, but I do know what would happen if he stopped.

The fences would fall over, the apples would rot, and the blackberry bushes would take over.

But this isn't only true of a garden.

Don't we all show up every day with more work to be done than can be done?
Don't we all find ourselves fixing something just to know it will break?
Don't we all feel in the dilemma between easy outs and toiling for quality?

Gardeners are caretakers, bringing order from what would be certain chaos. Against odds and reasons, they keep pulling that same weed over and over again to provide a space for growth, flourishing, and joy.

This relentless care to bring calm from chaos and beauty from rubble is very meaningful to me.

I am a gardener.

The Shepherd

I don't like getting dirty. I cringe thinking of wine spilled on the carpet or gritty street water splashed on a white sweater.

But even though I don't like getting physically dirty, I'm drawn to the emotional grime of failure, struggle, and turmoil.

Humans are gloriously complex.

We can hold contradictions in tension, like being both sad and relieved about a relationship passing or disagreeing about a belief while laughing about a shared memory.

We are also profoundly shaped by the mundane moments, like a song transporting us to a distant memory or a conversation with a stranger altering our life's trajectory.

I believe this human experience must be nurtured and protected.

I love the analogy of a shepherd. While the sheep are fully immersed in the wonders of their own life, wondering what grass to eat and what hillside they will sleep on, the shepherd is listening, providing, and guiding.

This shepherding mindset also drives me at work. It means making changes that promote human flourishing, not just moving a KPI. It means being quick to listen when vulnerability shows its lovely face amidst the performance and hustle.

Being a vehicle of human flourishing is a great honor.

I am a shepherd.

The Mechanic

My first phone was a Samsung Flip Phone 3. It didn't work.

My brother upgraded and passed it down to me. I was too young for my own phone, so I just carried it around as if I had one.

One day I got curious about what the inside looked like. How did it work? I pulled it apart and tried to disconnect as many components as I could: a screen, a battery, a SIM card tray, an antenna.

After studying each item closely for maybe an hour, I assumed the only thing to do next was to put it back together. Multiple attempts failed, and I began to worry.

Then a mind-blowing thing happened... The screen turned back on!

That journey of tearing down, studying, and rebuilding was like a high, but what ultimately made me the most proud was walking around with a phone that I knew how to dismantle and rebuild. I knew how it worked. How cool was that!

Just doing or having cool things wasn't enough; I wanted to figure out how they worked. This also brought clarity: I'm more of a mechanic than a builder.

A builder wants to create, generate, produce.

A mechanic wants to know, fix, improve.

I love taking things that are so boring no one cares to understand and becoming an expert. I love seeing things that aren't running smoothly and finding that little gear that's wobbly.

I am a mechanic.

Location

So where does all of that put me? Why am I here now?

When Zeno asked to join Resend, my first thought was "Why not?"

For that moment, this was enough. Now, years later, what keeps me going?

Here it is. My manifesto. My why.

To craft a place where people can live to their fullest.

As a gardener... I'm considering the soil, the weather, the seasons. Everything from the biggest drought to the smallest bug could affect what I'm growing. Sometimes this means observing across the organization to see what's working and what's a threat. It could also require investments in sales and finance to build a durable future. Being a gardner always means nurturing a better future.

As a shepherd... I'm deeply embedded in the cares of the people. A shepherd should smell like the sheep and leave the whole flock to go after the one in need. Sometimes this could mean being a coach to train and guide. Other times this could be building empathetic and equitable policies. Being a shepherd always means being quick to listen and safeguard.

As a mechanic... I'm studying the fundamentals and dispelling the mysteries. Behind every assumption is meaning; behind every problem is cause and effect. Sometimes this means building systems to smooth out manual work. Other times it could be jumping into frontier projects to become an expert. Being a mechanic always means being curious and generous.

That's why I do it.