How we hire

We are notoriously spiky.

We don’t want people who are good at everything. We want people who are dangerous at one thing, sharp somewhere specific, and honest about where they are not.

Well-roundedness is not the goal. A person who is a little good at many things is not who we are looking for. We want the spike. Deep, uneven, undeniable.

But the spike is not narrow. The best ones are interdisciplinary at their root. Someone whose engineering is shaped by philosophy, whose design is shaped by music, whose thinking is shaped by every strange thing they’ve lived. The depth is the range. What makes your spike yours is where you pulled it from.

So we don’t look for the complete person. We look for the missing edge, the strength our team doesn’t have yet, and we build around it.

When sharp, different people sit in the same room, they don’t just cover more ground. They make things none of them could make alone. The engineer and the artist and the athlete and the philosopher, put together, synthesize ideas none of them would have reached apart. That collision is the whole point.

And it runs both ways. Being around people this different is how each of us grows. You sharpen your spike and you fill in your edges, not by being told to round out, but by standing next to people who are strong where you are weak. We come here to build, and we leave more fully ourselves.

No one of us contains the whole of it. Together, we get close. We will never quite finish the circle. That’s the point. We just keep reaching for it, and growing as we go.

How we live

We don’t stay in one place. Every two or three weeks the whole team moves — a new city, a new country, together.

This isn’t a perk, it’s the thesis. What you can make is bounded by what you’ve lived. Taste doesn’t come from a desk; it comes from the world — the food, the streets, the people, the strangeness you only get by being somewhere new. We treat lived experience as the real R&D: the more of the world we take in, the better the things we build.

So we break the single-city consensus everyone else optimizes inside, and go collect the raw material that makes work worth doing.

And the deal underneath it is simple: your flourishing and the company’s are the same thing. What I want is for you to be more alive, more yourself, more full of the world — because that is what makes the work good. Your happiness isn’t traded against it. It is it.

Sharp somewhere specific? Write to hardik@useinvariance.com