Everybody wants the trip. Nobody wants to plan it.
The text goes out every year. “We should do this again.” And everybody means it. Fifteen people, five families, and one long weekend that would be so good if it actually happened.
Then the planning starts. The date that works for nobody. The house nobody booked. The deposit one person floated and quietly ate. Somewhere in there the trip stops being a plan and turns into a group chat that just keeps scrolling.
Every group has the same unspoken deal: one person picks up the whole thing. Nobody asks them to. They just start, because if they don't, nobody goes.
Friendships don't usually end. They get postponed.
That's the problem we set out to kill. Not “trip planning.” The slow drift where the people you'd cross a state line for turn into the people you keep meaning to see.
Where it came from
We're a group of college friends who watched getting together go from easy to genuinely hard.
For years the trip took one text message. Then life did what life does. Jobs in different cities. A couple of moves. Five households, nine calendars, and a house deposit big enough that somebody had to actually think about it. The wanting never changed. The cost of coordinating it went straight up, right as everyone's free time fell off a cliff.
The breaking point was a reunion that almost didn't happen. Not because anyone bailed. Because the planning collapsed under its own weight: a dead poll, six house links lost in the thread, and one person carrying a deposit for six weeks. We got there in the end. But we spent the drive home talking about how close we came to just not going, and how that's exactly how these things quietly end.
So we built the thing we kept wishing existed. First for our own crew, tested on our own reunion, and only then for anyone else's.
What we're actually solving
The date that never lands. Group polls surface the day that works for the loudest, not the most. Kompani reads real calendars and ranks the weekends that work for everyone.
The house that scrolls away. Six links in a chat is not a decision. Kompani holds every option in one place with the cost and the votes attached.
The money nobody wants to bring up. One person fronts it, everyone forgets, and asking feels rude. Kompani does the math and sends the nudge, so no friend has to chase another.
The trip that lives in twelve threads. Door codes, arrival times, who's cooking. Kompani keeps it in one hub that changes as the trip does.
So the goal here isn't better software. It's more weekends where everybody's in the same house.
Every feature gets judged against one question: does this make the trip more likely to actually happen?
What Kompani does about it
One place, from “we should do this again” to “everybody's paid up.”
The tools in this category are some of the most disliked software on the internet. Not because the features are bad. Because they got squeezed. Ads between expense entries. Caps on what you can log. Reminders moved behind a paywall.
We're not going to do that. In writing:
Kumpania is the Romani word for a band of families who travel together, pool what they have, and decide things as a group. Not a family, not a company. Both at once.
Your kompani is the crew you'd cross a state line for.
Who made it
Kompani is built for PRMR, powered by Ooni Marketing, out of Bellingham, Washington. It started as our own annual reunion and is still tested there first. Nothing ships until twelve real people, five real families, and a few awesome toddlers have run it through a weekend.
One weekend. Everyone there.
Start a trip in about four minutes. You can invite everyone before you've decided anything.
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