Seven Lines of Code
Seven lines of code. That was the pitch — or, more precisely, the dare. In 2011, when most payment companies required weeks of paperwork, merchant account applications, gateway negotiations, and security audits before a developer could charge a single credit card, two Irish brothers in a sparsely furnished Mission District apartment proposed something that bordered on the absurd: paste seven lines of JavaScript into your website and start accepting money. Not in two weeks. Not after a compliance review. Now.
The absurdity was the point. Patrick Collison, then 22, and his brother John, 20, had already sold a startup for $5 million as teenagers and dropped out of MIT and Harvard, respectively. They understood something that the incumbents — the WorldPays, the PayPals, the First Datas grinding through their legacy codebases — could not see, or more precisely, could not afford to see: that the friction in online payments was not a feature of the problem's inherent complexity. It was an artifact of an industry that had been built by banks and card networks for banks and card networks, and then crudely ported onto the internet by people who thought the hard part was finance. The Collisons believed the hard part was code.
This distinction — between a financial problem and an engineering problem — would become the foundational insight of a company that, fourteen years later, processes $1.4 trillion in annual payment volume, roughly 1.3% of global
GDP. Stripe did not merely build a better payments product. It built a new category of company — what it would eventually call "financial infrastructure for the internet" — and in doing so, it rewrote the rules for how software companies relate to money, how startups get built, and how the global economy digitizes. The seven lines of code were not a product. They were a thesis about the future of commerce, expressed in the only language that mattered.
By the Numbers
The Stripe Machine in 2024
$1.4TTotal payment volume processed in 2024
38%Year-over-year TPV growth
~1.3%Share of global GDP
$91.5BValuation (February 2025 tender offer)
50%Fortune 100 companies using Stripe
78%Forbes AI 50 companies on the platform
$500M+Revenue run rate, Revenue & Finance Automation suite
~200MActive subscriptions managed via Stripe Billing
Dromineer to the Discourse
To understand Stripe, you have to understand the Collisons, and to understand the Collisons, you have to understand Dromineer — a hamlet of barely a hundred people in County Tipperary, Ireland, where the brothers grew up without internet access for the first decade of their lives. The house had books, though. Lots of books. Patrick and John read voraciously, a habit their parents actively cultivated, and it was the desire to continue learning to code — not some venture-backed ambition — that led to what may have been the Collisons' first successful pitch: convincing their parents to install a satellite internet connection so they could teach themselves programming.
Patrick, the elder by two years, is the more publicly visible of the pair — the CEO, the one whose personal website lists interests ranging from economic growth to housing production to biomedical research, the one who co-founded Progress Studies with Tyler Cowen and helped start Fast Grants during the pandemic. He carries the intensity of someone who has been building things since adolescence not because he wanted to be rich but because he genuinely believed the tools weren't good enough. John, the president, is quieter in a public sense but no less formidable — the operational mind, the one who in interviews talks about database indexes and the tyranny of being first with equal fluency, the one who describes board members as "like Pokémon characters, each with different powers."
Their mother brought them to blogger meetups in Limerick as teenagers. Pat Phelan, an Irish entrepreneur who knew them then, recalls two whip-smart kids who were "nice to everybody" — a trait that, improbably, has survived the scaling of a company now valued at nearly $100 billion. Their first venture, Shuppa (a play on the Gaelic for "shop"), became Auctomatic, an auction management tool they sold to Live Current Media for $5 million in 2008. Patrick was 19. John was 17. They enrolled at MIT and Harvard. They lasted less than a year at each.
By 2009, they were in San Francisco, writing code and brainstorming product ideas. The spark that became Stripe came from a simple observation, one that Patrick would later describe as so obvious it felt embarrassing: accepting payments on the internet was absurdly, needlessly difficult. Not difficult in the way that building a search engine is difficult — difficult in the way that filing taxes is difficult. Complex for no intrinsic reason. A web of legacy systems, intermediaries, regulations, and sheer institutional inertia had created a process that took weeks and involved merchant accounts, payment gateways, PCI compliance, and integration code so cumbersome that developers dreaded touching it.
We believe that enabling transactions on the web is a problem rooted in code, not finance.
The Collisons saw the gap not as a market opportunity in the conventional sense — they weren't scanning TAM slides — but as an engineering failure. PayPal, which had revolutionized online payments a decade earlier, had ossified into exactly the kind of cumbersome, redirect-heavy experience that frustrated developers. Its code was famously painful to implement. Its checkout flow forced users off the merchant's site. The process, as one early observer of Stripe's product put it to TechCrunch, "sucked." The Collisons decided to build the thing that didn't suck.
The Developer as the Customer
Stripe's founding insight — the one that still drives its competitive position — was choosing the developer as the primary customer. This was not obvious. In 2010, the conventional wisdom in payments was that the buyer of payment processing was the CFO, the head of operations, or the business owner. The developer was the implementer, the person who wired up whatever solution the business had chosen. You sold to the decision-maker, not the plumber.
The Collisons inverted this. They looked at the world and saw that a new generation of companies — the ones being built by YC graduates and Hacker News readers, the ones that would become Lyft and Shopify and Instacart — were being built by developers. The developer was the decision-maker. And the developer chose tools the way developers choose tools: by reading documentation, trying the API, and seeing if the thing worked. No sales call required.
Stripe's public launch in September 2011 was designed for exactly this audience. The platform supported Ruby, PHP, and Python. No merchant account was needed. No gateway. Stripe handled everything — card storage, subscriptions, direct payouts to bank accounts. The APIs let developers build their own payment forms, brand the experience, and keep users on-site for checkout rather than redirecting them to a third-party page. The pricing was transparent: 2.9% plus $0.30 per successful charge, with no setup fees, no monthly fees, no card storage fees, and no hidden costs. Earnings transferred to bank accounts on a seven-day rolling basis.
The design was the product of Ludwig Pettersson, who was both a talented developer and designer — a combination that embodied Stripe's core aesthetic conviction that financial infrastructure could, and should, be beautiful. This was not cosmetic. Katie Dill, who would later become Stripe's Head of Design, articulated the philosophy precisely: "Our work is consequential — our users are moving money around the planet. If we don't get the details right, it impacts our users' ability to achieve their goals." The company discovered empirically that upgrading the aesthetics of a simple email — better typography, layout, and imagery — increased product conversion by 20%.
The early investor list read like a who's-who of people who understood both payments and developer tools:
Peter Thiel and
Elon Musk (PayPal co-founders), Sequoia Capital with
Michael Moritz personally involved, and Andreessen Horowitz. The seed round was approximately $2 million at a reported $20 million valuation. "He's not known to spend a lot of time on startups he doesn't think will have huge exits," TechCrunch noted of Moritz.
Key milestones from founding to financial infrastructure platform
2007Patrick (18) and John (16) launch Shuppa/Auctomatic from Limerick; sell for $5M in 2008.
2010Brothers begin prototyping payment tools in San Francisco; write first billing code before the company formally launches.
2011Stripe launches publicly in September; raises ~$2M seed from Thiel, Musk, Sequoia, a16z, SV Angel.
2014Valued at $1.75B; begins international expansion.
2016Reaches $9B valuation; Stanford GSB publishes case study "Stripe: Increasing the GDP of the Internet."
2018Stripe Billing launches, years after the Collisons first prototyped billing features.
2021Raises $600M at $95B valuation during pandemic e-commerce surge.
A Programming Language for Money
What Stripe actually built — the thing beneath the seven lines of code — was something closer to an operating system for internet commerce than a payment processor. The distinction matters. A payment processor moves money from point A to point B. An operating system provides the abstractions, interfaces, and primitives that let other people build things on top of it without having to understand the complexity underneath.
Stripe's API was RESTful, predictable, resource-oriented. It accepted form-encoded request bodies, returned JSON-encoded responses, and used standard HTTP response codes. Test mode and live mode were separated by API key prefix — sk_test_ versus sk_live_ — an elegant piece of developer ergonomics that meant you could build and test your entire payment flow without touching real money or real card networks. Client libraries shipped in Ruby, Python, PHP, Java, Node.js, Go, and .NET. The documentation was not an afterthought; it was a first-class product, obsessively maintained, written in the same voice that the company used for everything else — clear, precise, opinionated.
This was Stripe's version of what the Guardian would later call "a programming language for money." The goal was to make adding payment infrastructure to a website as easy as changing the background color. And for a generation of developers building the companies that would define the 2010s — Shopify, Lyft, DoorDash, Instacart, Postmates — it was.
The architectural bet was that by handling all the ugly stuff — PCI compliance, card network negotiations, fraud detection, currency conversion, regulatory compliance across jurisdictions — Stripe could turn a wildly complex operation into a single API call. Credit cards went directly to Stripe's secure environment, never touching the developer's servers. International payments worked out of the box; customers could pay in any currency, which Stripe would convert to USD at prevailing rates. The developer got to think about the product. Stripe thought about everything else.
In the short term, we want Stripe to enable more commerce online. When you think about how much we spend, and the direction the world is likely going to take, there's at least a 10-fold gain possible.
The Wedge and the Expansion
Every platform company faces the same fundamental strategic question: how do you get from the wedge — the initial, narrow use case that gets you in the door — to the platform, the broad surface area that makes you indispensable? Stripe's answer to this question has been executed with a patience and discipline that is unusual in Silicon Valley, where the pressure to expand is matched only by the pressure to expand fast.
The wedge was online payments for developers. Simple, beautiful, API-first payment acceptance. But the Collisons understood from the beginning — John has said as much — that payments were the entry point, not the destination. Every business that accepts money also needs to manage subscriptions, handle billing, calculate taxes, detect fraud, issue refunds, manage disputes, comply with local regulations, incorporate as a legal entity, access working capital, and eventually, report its finances. Each of these needs represented a product. And each product, once adopted, deepened the relationship between Stripe and the customer, increasing switching costs and expanding Stripe's share of the customer's financial operations.
The expansion followed a consistent logic: find the pain point that sits adjacent to payments, build a solution that is dramatically better than the alternatives, and make it trivially easy to adopt for companies already using Stripe. Stripe Connect (2012) enabled platforms and marketplaces to route payments between multiple parties — the primitive that powered companies like Lyft (driver payments), Shopify (merchant payments), and DoorDash (restaurant payments). Stripe Atlas (2016) helped entrepreneurs incorporate a U.S. company in days, bundled with a bank account and Stripe account — effectively creating customers before they had customers. Stripe Radar used machine learning for fraud detection. Stripe Terminal brought the platform to in-person payments. Stripe Issuing let companies create virtual and physical cards. Stripe Treasury embedded banking services. Stripe Capital offered working-capital loans. Stripe Tax automated sales tax calculation across jurisdictions. Stripe Identity handled identity verification. Stripe Climate let businesses fund carbon removal at checkout.
The pattern was not a random walk. It was a systematic attempt to own the entire financial layer of internet business — what Stripe calls, with characteristic ambition, "financial infrastructure for the internet."
The Billing Revelation
Perhaps the most instructive expansion story is Stripe Billing, because it illustrates something the Collisons themselves admit they got wrong for years.
John Collison wrote the first iteration of a billing product before Stripe even formally launched. The code existed in 2010. But when Stripe shipped in 2011, billing was not the priority — payments were. The billing code sat, a prototype in the wings, while the company focused on the wedge. Stripe Billing didn't come to market until 2018 — eight years after the initial prototype.
"It was something we underestimated for a very long time," John Collison told Fortune in 2025. "I think it's only recently that we started viewing it as the main second business."
The underestimation was consequential. Billing — managing recurring payments, usage-based pricing, subscription tiers, proration, invoicing — is a fundamentally different technology and market than one-time payment processing. It requires different data models, different customer success motions, different competitive positioning. But when the AI boom arrived, it became Stripe's secret weapon. Companies like OpenAI, Anthropic, Perplexity, and Cursor needed the most nuanced pricing capabilities possible — usage-based billing that could handle token counts, API calls, and compute minutes at scale, with the flexibility to change pricing models overnight in a hypercompetitive market.
"Look at the AI world, how fast-growing it is, how it monetizes, that it's also incredibly competitive," Collison told Fortune. "If your pricing is wrong, you're going to rapidly lose market share to someone who is pricing right."
By January 2025, Stripe Billing had propelled the company's Revenue and Finance Automation suite past $500 million in annual revenue run rate. More than 300,000 companies used it, managing nearly 200 million active subscriptions. NVIDIA completed what Stripe called "the fastest-ever migration to Stripe Billing." The Collisons had been sitting on a $500 million business for over a decade before they fully committed to it. The lesson — that a company's most important products are sometimes the ones it's slowest to recognize — rhymes with a broader truth about Stripe's strategy: patience, compounded, can look like genius.
In December 2025, Stripe announced the acquisition of Metronome, a usage-metering platform used by companies like OpenAI, further consolidating its grip on the billing stack. The deal was a signal: Stripe viewed agile billing not as a feature but as a strategic pillar.
The Culture of Craft
Stripe is, by the consistent testimony of people who have worked there and competed against it, an uncommonly well-run company. This sounds like faint praise. It is not. Running a company well — especially a company that operates in dozens of countries, moves trillions of dollars, serves both ten-person startups and half the Fortune 100, and must simultaneously satisfy developers, CFOs, regulators, and card networks — is enormously difficult, and the difficulty is mostly invisible because when it works, it looks effortless.
Patrick Collison has been unusually explicit about how he thinks about culture. In an interview published in Elad Gil's
High Growth Handbook, Collison argued that the main mistakes companies make with culture are "being too precious about it, being too apologetic about it, and not treating it as dynamic and subject to revision." His prescription was radical specificity: don't say "we believe in the importance of commitment," say "we want people who really want to pour their hearts into this for several years, and we expect this to be the singular focus of your working life." Don't say "we value attention to detail," say "if you work with us, you're going to have to be okay with your work being repeatedly designated as inadequate, and okay with it being redone several times over."
This is not a comfortable culture. It is a high-performance culture that selects for people who thrive under relentless scrutiny. Katie Dill, Stripe's Head of Design (previously at Airbnb and Lyft), described the company's quality framework as operating on three levels: utility (does it work?), usability (is it comfortable to use?), and beauty (is it well-executed in the details such that it's enjoyable?). All three must be right. "We believe we must get all three aspects right," Dill said. "Our work is consequential — our users are moving money around the planet."
The craft obsession extends beyond product to communication. Stripe Press, the company's publishing arm, produces beautifully designed books on themes of economic progress, technology, and human achievement — titles like Tyler Cowen's Stubborn Attachments, M. Mitchell Waldrop's The Dream Machine, J. Storrs Hall's Where Is My Flying Car?, and Dwarkesh Patel's The Scaling Era. This is not a marketing play in any conventional sense. It is a declaration of intellectual identity — a signal to the kind of people Stripe wants to attract that this is a company that takes ideas seriously, that reads deeply, and that thinks about the world in terms of decades, not quarters.
His essays extol the virtues of free enterprise, yes, but also of doing business the right way, with integrity and rigor. Of taking your work very seriously, but never yourself.
John Collison describes his own relationship with books with the same intensity. He and a Fortune reporter once spent "far too long looking at books" in Stripe's San Francisco office library — Dickens, Tom Wolfe,
Charlie Munger lining the shelves. "We spend a lot of time at Stripe" thinking about the quality of their own publications, Collison said, holding up a Stripe Press copy of
The Dream Machine with mild dissatisfaction about some detail of its production. The man holds a 1943 Dickens compilation in one hand and an oral history of computing in the other, and his instinct is to talk about craft.
Increasing the GDP of the Internet
Stripe's official mission — "to increase the GDP of the internet" — is either a perfectly calibrated piece of corporate ambition or a statement of genuine philosophical commitment. With the Collisons, it appears to be both.
The phrase is revealing. It does not say "to process more payments." It does not say "to serve more businesses." It says GDP — the total value of economic output. This frames Stripe not as a vendor selling tools to customers but as infrastructure enabling an economy. The distinction is strategic: if you are a vendor, your growth is bounded by the number of customers you can sign and the fees you can charge them. If you are infrastructure, your growth is bounded only by the size of the economy you enable. And if you can make that economy grow faster — by reducing friction, lowering barriers to entry, expanding access to global markets — then you are not a zero-sum participant in a market. You are growing the pie.
This is the logic behind Stripe Atlas, which has helped thousands of companies incorporate. It is the logic behind Stripe's expansion to 46+ countries. It is the logic behind the company's investments in stablecoins and AI. Each initiative expands the surface area of the internet economy, which expands Stripe's addressable market, which funds more investment in infrastructure, which further expands the economy. The flywheel spins.
John Collison put concrete numbers on the ambition in 2024: "We're a trillion dollars in payment volume. But, depending on how you define digital payments, it's $50 trillion-plus in total payment volume. So, we're less than 2% of the overall digital payments market." Less than 2%. The headroom is vertiginous.
The Collisons' interest in economic growth is not performative. Patrick co-founded Progress Studies, a nascent intellectual movement focused on understanding and accelerating human progress. He helped create the Arc Institute, a new model for biomedical research. He co-funded Fast Grants, which distributed funding to scientists during the COVID pandemic. He has written about housing policy, science funding, and the stagnation of institutional productivity. His personal bookshelf — which he has catalogued publicly — ranges from The Rise and Fall of American Growth to Quantum Electrodynamics to A Farewell to Alms. These are not the reading habits of someone who sees payments processing as the endgame. They are the reading habits of someone who sees payments processing as a lever for civilizational change.
The Valuation Roller Coaster and the IPO That Isn't
If Stripe's product strategy has been remarkably consistent, its valuation trajectory has been anything but. The numbers tell a story of wild oscillation that mirrors the broader tech cycle:
The pandemic supercharged everything Stripe touched. E-commerce adoption accelerated by years. Startups proliferated. Digital payments volumes surged. In March 2021, Stripe raised $600 million at a $95 billion valuation, making it the most valuable private technology company in Silicon Valley and catapulting the Collison brothers to estimated net worths of $11.5 billion each. They were, at 32 and 30, among the wealthiest millennials on the planet.
Then the correction. Rising interest rates, the end of zero-interest-rate policy, a pullback in tech valuations, and a normalization of e-commerce growth rates conspired to compress Stripe's valuation. In March 2023, the company raised $6.5 billion — one of the largest private fundraises in U.S. history — but at a valuation of $50 billion, nearly half its peak. The round was unusual: much of the capital went to buy out existing investors and provide employee liquidity rather than fund operations. It was, in effect, a concession that the $95 billion number had been aspirational.
But by early 2024, the business had recovered. Stripe passed $1 trillion in total payment volume for 2023 and disclosed that it was cash-flow-positive. The valuation bumped to $65 billion. Then, in February 2025, Stripe announced a tender offer for employees at a $91.5 billion valuation — within striking distance of the pandemic peak, but this time backed by fundamentals rather than speculation. The company processed $1.4 trillion in 2024, up 38% year-over-year. Revenue from the Revenue and Finance Automation suite alone crossed $500 million. Stripe was profitable and expected to remain so.
Throughout this period, the question that hovered over every Stripe discussion — the one that launched a thousand investor conversations and media inquiries — was: When will Stripe go public?
John Collison's answer has been consistently, almost aggressively, unhelpful. "People love speculating on this," he told Fortune in 2024. "We have no news to share, and when it's time to share, we'll share it." On CNBC in 2025, he was slightly more revealing: "You cannot manage the Stripe business on a supertight quarterly EPS basis, because this growth tends to come in waves." The implication was clear: public markets, with their quarterly reporting cadence and their fixation on linear growth, were a poor fit for a business whose growth was "lumpy" — driven by large enterprise migrations, platform adoption cycles, and macroeconomic shifts in e-commerce penetration.
The tender offers — Stripe has conducted several — serve as a pressure valve, providing liquidity to employees and early investors without the governance overhead, disclosure requirements, and short-term pressures of a public listing. It is a strategy that works precisely as long as Stripe's fundamentals continue to improve. The moment they don't, the pressure for a public exit will intensify dramatically.
Two Gale-Force Tailwinds
In 2025, Patrick Collison described the forces reshaping Stripe's landscape with uncharacteristic drama: "There are not one, but two, gale-force tailwinds, well off the Beaufort scale, dramatically reshaping the economic landscape around us: AI and stablecoins."
The AI tailwind is already materializing in Stripe's business. Seventy-eight percent of the Forbes AI 50 — and all of the AI 50 that are currently selling a product online — build on Stripe. The company's data reveals that top AI startups are reaching scale at a pace that makes earlier software cohorts look pedestrian: Cursor hit $100 million in ARR in three years, Lovable reached $17 million ARR in three months, Bolt hit $20 million ARR in two months. These companies don't just use Stripe for payments; they use Stripe Billing for the usage-based pricing models that define AI monetization, Stripe Radar for fraud prevention, and increasingly, Stripe's agentic commerce tools — over 700 agent startups launched on Stripe in 2024, and the company's toolkit for AI agent developers is downloaded thousands of times a week.
Stripe's response has been to build the world's first AI foundation model for payments — a model trained on tens of billions of transactions that captures hundreds of signals about each payment that specialized models cannot. Early results are striking: deploying the foundation model increased detection of card-testing attacks on large businesses by 64% "practically overnight," building on a previous 80% reduction achieved over two years with older models. The company also deploys dozens of specialized ML models across the transaction flow — optimizing fraud detection, authorization rates, and checkout personalization — and retrains them continuously on what it calls an "economy-scale dataset."
We're continually retraining dozens of machine learning models that optimize every part of the transaction flow over an economy-scale dataset. The resulting optimizations are big enough that businesses see them in their topline revenue figures. Businesses simply start making more money when they switch to Stripe.
The stablecoin tailwind is newer but potentially more transformative. Stripe's relationship with crypto has been a full circle: the company accepted Bitcoin in 2014, withdrew support in 2018 due to volatility and low usage, re-entered in 2022 via USDC payouts on Polygon, and then in February 2025 completed the $1.1 billion acquisition of Bridge, a stablecoin infrastructure platform. Three months later, Stripe launched Stablecoin Financial Accounts — enabling businesses in 101 countries to hold balances in stablecoins, receive funds on both crypto and fiat rails, and send stablecoins almost anywhere in the world.
The strategic logic is powerful. Stablecoins make international money movement dramatically faster and cheaper. Stablecoin transaction volumes surged over 50% in the past year. The stablecoin market is now worth over $200 billion and projected to reach $400 billion by year-end. For entrepreneurs in countries with volatile currencies, stablecoin accounts offer a hedge against inflation and easier access to the global economy. Bridge's partnership with Visa on a global card-issuing product means stablecoin balances can be spent anywhere Visa is accepted — making stablecoins as practical as fiat currency for the first time.
The convergence of AI and stablecoins with Stripe's existing platform creates a picture of a company positioned at the intersection of the three most powerful forces reshaping global commerce: the digitization of money, the automation of economic activity, and the programmability of financial infrastructure.
The Tyranny of Being First
John Collison has a phrase that he returns to in interviews: "the tyranny of being first." The idea is that being an early adopter of a technology can morph into a long-term disadvantage — the accumulated layers, integrations, and workarounds that compound over time into terrible customer experiences. He applies this to Stripe's competitors and to the broader enterprise landscape: "It's striking, where a startup will be working with Google Drive and Docs, whereas the very large, established companies have giant Excel docs. It's a funny thing, where we think that large companies have all these advantages... But sometimes there can be an inverted curve, especially in matters of software."
The phrase cuts both ways. It describes the opportunity Stripe exploited — incumbents trapped by their own legacy systems — and the risk Stripe must avoid becoming. The company's response has been relentless reinvestment. "In each of the last six years, Stripe has reinvested a much higher proportion of our earnings in R&D than any comparable company," the Collisons wrote in their 2024 annual letter. The specific ratio is undisclosed, but the claim is made in the context of a company that is profitable and choosing to invest rather than distribute.
The reinvestment fuels a product expansion rate that is almost comically ambitious. At Stripe Sessions 2025 alone, the company announced over 60 new launches: the AI Payments Foundation Model, Stablecoin Financial Accounts, AI-powered dispute management, support for 25 new payment methods, consumer card issuing, Stripe Tax expanding to 102 countries, the Metronome acquisition, and a deeper NVIDIA partnership. Sharmeen Browarek Chapp, Stripe's head of product for Revenue and Financial Automation, captured the company's view of its own trajectory: "We're at the same inflection point" as where online payments were ten years ago.
That inflection-point framing is the Collisons' consistent narrative: we are early. Less than 2% of digital payments. Billing where payments were a decade ago. Stablecoins where crypto was before it became useful. AI where the internet was before it became commerce. Every metric Stripe reports is designed to communicate the same message: the total addressable market is enormous, our current penetration is tiny, and the growth curve bends up from here.
The Machine at Rest
There is a photograph from the early days — reproduced in the Financial Times in 2014 — of John Collison standing in the San Francisco apartment the brothers shared, surrounded by dozens of books stacked against a living room wall. The apartment was unfurnished in the way that only the apartments of very young, very busy people are unfurnished: an Ikea sofa from 2010 ("They don't sell it anymore — it's like hipster Ikea"), two red leather bucket chairs they'd admired at a coffee shop, fold-out chairs, outdoor furniture used indoors, a bag of random stuff, and a largely untouched kitchen.
"The caveat with all this is Patrick and I have not finished furnishing this place properly," John told the reporter, "which is why there's that bag of random stuff and an Ikea desk and a bunch of fold-out chairs and what is actually outdoor furniture that we've been sitting on inside, and so I apologize for—"
"—for everything," Patrick interrupted.
Eleven years later, the company those two brothers built in that apartment processes $1.4 trillion a year. Half the Fortune 100 uses it. The Revenue and Finance Automation suite alone throws off $500 million in revenue. The valuation is $91.5 billion. And they still haven't gone public — still sitting on what John Collison calls "lumpy" growth, still reinvesting at rates that would make a public-market CFO nervous, still treating the entire venture as early. Less than 2% of the market. Still furnishing the place.
