Why we are here
At the beginning of every endeavour there is an idea, a vision of what you wish to accomplish.
It may not be obvious at first, but it is there, a force driving you forward. In our case this idea is to just get going
and assist others in doing the same. Personally, I find little as frustrating as getting stuck in a routine of
exhausting idleness. In retrospect it is clear to me that we founded KranCorp to combat this dizzying stagnation.
It has become a place of growth, of relentless trying and innovating, a playground for our ideas and ambitions.
And we are eager to share our passion and enjoyment with you - just look around and make yourself at home.
@brecher, CEO of KranCorpOur philosophy
How do you write great software? How do you make sure you meet your own high standards, and what should be the mindset of your developers?
To us here at KranCorp the answer is simple: Programming is a craft,
fueled by the passion and devotion of those who exercise it. All our products are superb for all the same reason - because we believe in them,
because we pour all our heart and long-acquired knowledge into them. Our goal is not to produce a commodity, but to still a desire for perfection.
In the end it does not really matter if it was the stroke of a brush or a key that lead to the art of its result, and after all that is what we are striving for.
Also our philosophy
The Emperor – so they say – has sent to you, the subject, the wretched vassal, who is infinitesimal before
the Imperial Sun in the far distance, a scattered shadow, to you, just you, the Emperor has delivered a
deathbed message. He made his messenger to kneel at his bedside and whispered into his ear; so particular was
he, he asked that everything be repeated back into his own ear. With nods of his head he registered the rectitude
of the recitation. Before the audience of his death – all hindering walls had been torn down and, on the wide,
high, fanning staircase stood, in a ring, the lords of the land – before all of these he dispatched his messenger.
Immediately, he set out for the road. A robust, an indefatigable man, now with one arm and now with the other thrusting,
he cleared his path midst the throng. If met with resistance, he pointed to his chest, to the insignia of the Sun;
he moved easily then, the only one. But the crowd was so large, their ranks endless. Opening into wide fields,
how he might fly; doubtless soon you’d hear the rapturous rapping of his fists on your very door. Instead, though,
he struggles himself to exhaustion. Even still he squeezes through the castle’s innermost passages; he will never make it out.
And even if he succeeds, nothing will come of it. He must fight his way back down those stairs; and even if he succeeds,
nothing will be gained. There are the courtyards to traverse, and beyond them the second enclosure of the palace;
and still more stairs and courtyards; and still more palace walls; and so on for a millennium, until he finally
bursts through the outermost gate – but never, never will this happen – and there before him the royal seat,
the center of the world, poured completely under by sediment. None may penetrate here, not even with a dead man’s last words.
But you wait by your window, and dream of it when the evening comes.
