I made a film.
Then I needed merch. Then I found out every print shop wanted me to order 500 of something I wasn't sure anyone wanted. So I built a print shop. Then the print shop created an accounting problem. Receipts in my pocket. Notes written in shitty lighting on set. A spreadsheet that tracked what I spent but couldn't answer the one question that actually mattered:
I looked for software that could tell me. QuickBooks wanted $420 a year and was built for an office with a staff. Everything else tracked one piece — inventory or accounting or expenses — never the whole picture. Nothing understood that I was buying blank shirts on Monday, selling at a craft fair Saturday, and trying to figure out if the whole operation was profitable or just busy.
So I built my own. I called it the BS Machine — because that's what it dealt with. The BS that comes with running your own thing. Taxes. Sales tax. State filings. Deductions. LLC paperwork. Inventory. The endless administrative avalanche that has nothing to do with the actual work but will sink you if you ignore it.
Turns out a lot of other people had the same BS.
So I set about taking my BS to the masses. Apparently the business community doesn't love being called BS. So I renamed it Daygig. Same app. Same attitude. Slightly more palatable to people who didn't grow up on a film set.
Then I started talking to other small operators — landlords, Airbnb hosts, people managing a rental property with a shoebox and a prayer. Different books, identical question:
Daygig answers that. For both.