So Apparently ReVisynX Has a Meaning

Alex has apparently decided that it is time to explain what ReVisynX means.

This is probably necessary.

Because when you name a company ReVisynX, you eventually have to accept that normal people are going to look at you and ask one of three questions:

“What does that mean?”

“How do you pronounce that?”

Or my personal favorite:

“Did you spell that correctly?”

Yes.

He did.

On purpose.

I know.

I was there.

And now there is an official explanation.

Apparently, ReVisynX represents three ideas.

ReVision.

Looking at a problem differently.

Sync.

Connecting people, information, tools, and processes that aren't working together.

And finally:

X.

The unknown.

The experiment.

The thing that hasn't been solved yet.

Very elegant.

Very thoughtful.

Very technology-studio-founder-standing-in-front-of-a-glass-wall-explaining-the-future.

And, annoyingly, it is also true.

But since this is my section of the website, allow me to provide the version that did not survive the marketing meeting.

ReVisynX did not begin because Alex woke up one morning and announced:

“I shall now create a multidisciplinary technology studio dedicated to reimagining practical problems through iterative experimentation.”

Please.

This man sees something unnecessarily complicated and develops a personal grudge against it.

That is the origin story.

Something doesn't work quite right.

Or it takes seven steps when it should take three.

Or people are juggling text messages, spreadsheets, phone calls, sticky notes, websites, and whatever technological artifact from 2009 everyone has collectively agreed not to question.

And I can actually see the moment happen.

His eyes narrow slightly.

There is a pause.

Then:

“Why are they doing it like that?”

Dangerous sentence.

Because the next sentence is usually:

“You know what would make more sense?”

And there goes the evening.

At first, I thought this was just how his brain worked.

I still think that, actually.

But then the little experiments started becoming things.

Real things.

One problem became a prototype.

A prototype became a working application.

Then something else irritated him.

Another experiment.

Another system.

Another browser window.

Another evening in which I discovered that the phrase “I'm almost done” has absolutely no measurable relationship with time.

I am a doctor.

I understand units of measurement.

“Almost done” is not one.

And somewhere in all of this, ReVisynX stopped being merely a name.

It became a pattern.

Look at something again.

Question the assumptions.

Connect the pieces that should have been connected in the first place.

Try something.

Break something.

Discover why it broke.

Say words at the computer that I will graciously omit from the official company history.

Fix it.

Test it.

Then test it again because apparently the first successful test only proves that the universe is preparing a more creative failure.

Eventually, somehow, there is a working system sitting where previously there was just a problem.

So yes.

ReVision. Sync. X.

His explanation is correct.

Mine just has better surveillance footage.

The part I actually like most is the X.

Don't tell him I said that.

He'll become unbearable.

The X represents the unknown, and I think that may be the most honest part of the entire company.

Because ReVisynX doesn't begin with:

“We have a product. Please find a reason to buy it.”

It begins with:

“There's a problem. Let's figure out whether we can solve it.”

Sometimes the answer becomes software.

Sometimes automation.

Sometimes a workflow.

Sometimes an experiment teaches you that your brilliant idea was, scientifically speaking, stupid.

That counts too.

You learn.

You change it.

You keep going.

Which is probably why the company's little sequence makes so much sense:

Idea → design → build → deploy → improve.

Alex would probably describe that as an iterative development philosophy.

I describe it as:

“He finished it, stared at it for twelve seconds, and immediately found three things he wanted to change.”

Same methodology.

Different peer review.

I've watched TeamRide become an answer to parents trying to coordinate children, sports, schedules, seats, and transportation.

I've watched Relief grow around the idea that someone who already needs help shouldn't need a graduate degree in bureaucracy to figure out where to look for it.

And I've watched Field Ops Dispatch become something considerably larger and more complicated, connecting information and people across an actual operational environment.

They don't look like the same product.

They're not supposed to.

They came from the same question:

“Why does this have to be this difficult?”

That, to me, is ReVisynX.

Not the logo.

Not the website.

Not the code.

Not even the increasingly suspicious number of screens surrounding Alex at any given moment.

It's the refusal to accept unnecessary friction simply because everybody has gotten used to it.

So when you ask what ReVisynX means, you can absolutely use Alex's explanation.

It's good.

I checked.

ReVision: see the problem differently.

Sync: connect what matters.

X: explore what doesn't exist yet.

Very professional.

Put it on LinkedIn.

But if you ask me?

ReVisynX means somewhere, right now, Alex is looking at something that technically works...

...and quietly deciding that it annoys him.

– Emilia