I build the software. Then I hand you the keys.

Apps Script + Sheets · recurring deliverable

A complex recurring deliverable was still being assembled by hand, and nobody had automated it. I got one wildcard shot and made it in a week: three raw exports in, a flawless color-coded, labeled document out. It shipped on every job for years, and it never came back with a correction.

Apps Script + Sheets · every job

The team was paid by output, so every hour hand-building a parts list was money on the floor. I made it instant — two exports in, a complete list out — and had it catch its own naming and data-gap errors before anyone saw them. The reworks stopped. A one-click sidebar killed the manual typing of hundreds of names.

Apps Script · whole-project scale

Thousands of broken links were scattered through the project data — invisible in the tool everyone used, each one a landmine that stalled someone mid-job. I built the check that showed every one in red. It became the standard everyone ran before every job.

HTML + image analysis + Maps API · large dataset

Records kept going missing across a very large dataset, and people billed hours hunting them — and still missed some. I built a browser tool that reads a screenshot pixel by pixel, finds every gap, and pins them on a real map. It guaranteed what people couldn't.

Apps Script + Sheets · planning

Before the team could start on an area, someone had to decide where its boundaries went and how much capacity it needed. I built the calculator that decided it: paste an area's data into Sheets and get the requirement back, with growth and density factored in. What I handed the team was computed, not guessed.

Python + matplotlib · geospatial

Where the key hard points belong isn't obvious — it's a geospatial optimization against a spec. I wrote an algorithm that groups location data into variable clusters and estimates the points that best satisfy each boundary. It's how I tuned a plan before the team drew a single line.

HTML · offline · two-day build

A new build needed math that, if it's off, fails at the farthest edges of the system. The old spreadsheet was inaccurate and didn't work. I built a spec-true calculator in two days — self-contained, offline, drop it in a browser. No server, no rollout.

Apps Script web app · daily use

My tools and updates were scattered across chat, email, and spreadsheets. I built a single hub the team worked out of every day — so the tooling was something they used, not something they hunted for.

React · offline · cross-team

Everyone had their own notepad-and-Excel method, pulling from five documents and correcting by hand all day. I replaced it with one clean app — data in, two finished deliverables out — used four to eight times a day, per person. I adapted it for a second team, too.

The same client typed into three systems. Invoices rekeyed out of email. The Friday report rebuilt by hand, again. I build software that does the typing for you, on the computers you already have. You get the hours back, and the typos stop costing you.

Engagement letter, intake form, document requests, and the emails chasing the one missing signature. I build a single intake flow: the client fills it out once, the documents land where they belong, and the file opens itself. The three-day scramble is over, and nobody walks because the paperwork took a week.

Billables in one file, receivables in another, capacity in somebody's head. By the time you've merged them, the numbers are a week old. I build one screen that pulls from the systems you already use and keeps itself current. You look once and you know where the month actually stands.

The same client's name keyed into billing, the document folder, the calendar, and whatever tracks the work. I connect what you already pay for so one update shows up everywhere, and I replace the ones you're paying for and barely using. Fewer subscriptions. One version of the truth.

Every call that rings out is a client calling somebody else. I build the system that picks up when you can't: it takes the caller's name, number, and what they need, answers the handful of logistics questions people always ask — hours, location, what to bring — and drops a finished, written request in your queue. It doesn't give advice and it doesn't pretend to be a person. This one isn't hypothetical — it already runs on my own line as an assistant named Iris, booking a time whenever I can't pick up. The 4:40 call on Friday is still a client on Monday.

The tool your office runs on, built by somebody who stopped answering. No documentation, no password, nobody left who understands it. I take those jobs. I get in, write down how it actually works, fix what's broken, and hand you the keys. You own the code, so it can't happen to you a second time.

Everyone got a login and a two-hour webinar, and now it's a line item you can't cancel and can't justify. The problem is almost never the tool. It's that nobody ever mapped it to the jobs your people actually do all day. I sit with your team, find the four or five tasks worth handing over, and build the shortcuts around them. When I leave, the seats you're already paying for are doing work.

Somebody on your team is going to paste a client file into a chatbot, and right now there is nothing telling them not to. For a firm holding tax records or privileged material, that ends up as a bar complaint, not an IT ticket. I write the rules you can actually hand to staff: what's allowed, what never leaves the building, which tools are safe for which material — and where it matters, a setup where the data never reaches a third party at all. Short enough that people read it.

I built a red team out of AI agents whose only job is breaking in, and I aimed it at my own platform first — every service I run. It found real ways in. I closed them. Everything I build for you goes through that same gauntlet before it's ever in your hands.

Security isn't a step at the end that gets cut when the budget gets tight. It's how the thing gets built: who can see what, what gets logged, what happens when someone tries a door they shouldn't. Bolting it on afterward is how firms get hurt.

You hold the accounts and the passwords. You can lock me out in about a minute, and I'll show you how on the day I hand it over. I'll sign your NDA — before the first call, if you'd rather sign before you tell me anything.