Our Story

That "somebody" became urgent when it happened to my own family.

My father, a chiropractor in Cleveland, Tennessee, signed a year-long contract with a kid fresh out of high school who'd started a local agency. No formal training. No software engineering background. No design education. Just a drag-and-drop builder, a talent for selling confidence he hadn't earned, and a contract that locked my father into $1,000 a month for a year.

What my father got for that money was roughly twenty hours of work on Wix — a drag-and-drop website builder. About ten static pages with a navbar that ate a third of the screen, images and text that overlapped or ran off the page, testimonials that overflowed their containers and were unreadable. No blogging. No scheduling. No thought given to branding, color, or layout. The site was riddled with design failures, performance bottlenecks, accessibility violations, security oversights, and best-practice breakdowns across the board. Its Lighthouse scores looked like someone flatlining — nothing but red. Responsive design for mobile was practically non-existent; somehow an even worse experience than desktop. After launch, the "maintenance" amounted to maybe thirty minutes a month of edits — only when my father specifically asked. The site wasn't a tool for his business — it was a cost center disguised as a digital presence.

My father wasn't the only one. About a dozen local businesses got trapped in the same arrangement. Within two years the whole operation folded — the founder hadn't done his homework, and it showed. But by then the damage was done. My father and those other business owners had spent thousands on something that provided zero value, built by someone who lacked the skills to deliver and the integrity to say so.

My father didn't know better. And the person he trusted to advise him didn't care to do right by him. It's the same story you see everywhere trust meets technical ignorance — like a parent who walks into an electronics store asking for the "best gaming computer" and walks out with an overpriced, mid-tier laptop that'll be obsolete in two years, paying double what the hardware is worth because they didn't know the right questions to ask. The seller knew. They just didn't care.

I convinced him to cancel the contract and rebuilt his site myself, at no cost. That was the moment I realized this wasn't just an industry problem — it was a trust problem. Businesses without technical expertise were being exploited by the very people they hired to help them. And most never even knew it.

Those two experiences — seeing the industry from the inside, and watching my own family get taken advantage of — planted seeds. But seeds don't become trees overnight. Mine took years.

I sharpened my craft as a software engineer across startup and corporate environments, learning what quality actually looks like when you have to build it yourself, with your own hands, and stand behind it. I became the kind of developer who obsesses over the details most people never see: the page speed score, the accessibility audit, the caching headers, the clean markup under the hood.

Along the way, I discovered a developer on Reddit running a subscription-model web agency and openly documenting the entire journey — wins, failures, pricing decisions, all of it. He'd taught himself HTML, CSS, and JavaScript, and was building a real business serving small businesses with honesty and fair pricing. I followed him closely. His transparency and subscription model became a direct inspiration for what TechTailors would eventually become — though TechTailors would differ significantly in scope, technical depth, and the range of businesses we serve.

TechTailors isn't my first company. That distinction belongs to Moonlight Reviews — an affiliate marketing business I co-founded in mid-2020 with a former coworker during the early months of the pandemic. We built a premium blogging platform focused on high-quality product reviews, genuine research, and honest analysis.

The business was heavily SEO-driven, and I threw myself into it completely. I lived and breathed search engine optimization — technical and strategic, on-page and off-page — listening to podcasts, tracking algorithm updates, studying competitors, and working forty-plus hours a week on the business alongside a full-time software engineering role. Over three years, we generated over $2 million in affiliate sales.

But the economics told a harder story. Our total gross came to roughly $200,000 — split between two co-founders, before expenses and taxes. We made less than minimum wage for the hours we put in. Then the ground shifted: ChatGPT and AI-generated content began dismantling the affiliate model, while Google's AI Overviews started siphoning traffic directly from the organic results our entire business depended on. Revenue dropped. The writing was on the wall.

Moonlight Reviews didn't make me wealthy. But it made me dangerous — dangerous in the best way. I came out the other side with deep expertise in SEO, content strategy, analytics, and web design & development. I understood what makes a website rank, what makes visitors stay, and what turns traffic into revenue. That knowledge isn't something you pick up in a bootcamp or learn from a YouTube tutorial. It comes from years of building, measuring, failing, and rebuilding.

After Moonlight Reviews, I needed to recover. I was burnt out with nothing left in the tank. For months I was unemployed — not building, not coding, just breathing.

But the seeds planted years ago never stopped growing. During that quiet stretch, everything I'd experienced began to crystallize: the agency that abandoned its values, the predatory contract that exploited my father, the subscription-model agency that proved honesty could scale, the affiliate business that taught me the technical craft, and years of education and professional software engineering experience that gave me the confidence — and the proof — that I could do better. Each piece fit into a picture that had been forming for years.

TechTailors wasn't a career pivot — it was a calling. My brainchild. Unlike Moonlight Reviews, which was my co-founder's original idea, this was mine. Born from every overpriced contract, every broken website, every client who didn't know they deserved better. I poured everything into its branding, its pricing model, its business plan, its architecture. Not because I saw a gap in the market — because I'd been living in it for years.

On September 30, 2024 — nine months into unemployment, with my back against the wall — I took the plunge. I went all in on a gut feeling that had been building for the better part of a decade, and I founded TechTailors.

I wanted to build something the web development and digital marketing industry had never seen. Not just another agency with prettier branding — a different kind of company entirely. An anti-agency.

The principles are non-negotiable:

• Radical transparency. Our pricing is published. Our architecture is documented. Our vendor decisions are explained. You'll never wonder what you're paying for or why.
• Honest, fair pricing. Incremental, pay-as-you-grow tiers and add-ons — ideas I worked long and hard to flesh out. No bloated retainers. No surprise invoices. No pricing that punishes you for growing.
• True data ownership. Every client gets their own isolated database. Your data, your code, your infrastructure — you own all of it. Every account that runs your website (your hosting, media library, blog CMS, analytics) is in your name from day one — we’re added as admins, not owners. Your offboarding process is planned before you even sign up.
• Uncompromising quality. Every site is hand-coded from scratch — no templates, no page builders, no bloated CMS. The person who designed your architecture is the same person managing your account. No telephone game, no handoff to a junior dev.

TechTailors is the agency I wished existed when my father needed one. Built for businesses that have been burned before — or the smart ones who refuse to be.

My goal is straightforward: clean up the internet, one bad website at a time.

I want to raise the bar for what businesses should expect from the people they trust to build their digital presence. I want to educate business owners on the difference between a website that costs money and a website that makes money. Most agency websites behave like flyers in a newspaper — they exist, but they don't do much. Ours are built to be profit centers that drive real value, not cost centers that collect dust.

I want to make the internet a neater, safer, more technically sophisticated, and user-friendly place — one client at a time, one site at a time, with no shortcuts and no compromises.

And if you're reading this wondering whether your current agency is part of the problem — take the audit my father couldn't take Fifteen plain-English questions, less than five minutes, no email required. You'll know.