He hadn't even heard of Video Egg until a week ago. "I usually accomplish everything in the first hour," he says, before pausing for a moment to think this over.But then, you tend to attract advertisers' attention when you are serving up 1.6 billion webpages each month. "Actually, in the first 10 or 15 minutes." To demonstrate, Frind turns to his computer and begins fiddling with a free software program that he uses to manage his advertising inventory.Today, it’s the most popular such site in the country, and a top global concern—a business that relies on advertisers (most of them his competitors) reaching millions of people looking for love. He sits with his back to his workforce, 20 or so young techie types in jeans and sneakers, hunched over their keyboards, their knotted eyebrows signalling their intent to be productive—but not too productive.Down the hall, photos of a staff cruise have the hint of a college bacchanal.My guess is Markus doesn't want to rewrite his software to work across a scale out cluster so even if it's more expensive scale up works better for his needs.Update 3: POF now has 200 million images and serves 10,000 images served per second.While he is doing this, he carps about Canada's high income taxes, a serious problem considering that Plenty of Fish is on track to book revenue of million for 2008, with profit margins in excess of 50 percent. "Most of the time, I just sit on my ass and watch it." There's so little to do that he and his girlfriend, Annie Kanciar, spent the better part of last summer sunning themselves on the French Riviera.
The discussion in the comments is as interesting as the article.
COMMAND CENTRAL Frind recently increased his staff from zero to three and moved operations from his bedroom to a nearby office tower." alt="COMMAND CENTRAL Frind recently increased his staff from zero to three and moved operations from his bedroom to a nearby office tower."t 10 o'clock in the morning, Markus Frind leaves his apartment and heads to work. The problem is that he is still getting used to the idea of a commute that involves traveling farther than the distance between the living room and the bedroom.
It's a short walk through downtown Vancouver, British Columbia, but somehow the trek feels arduous. Frind's online dating company, Plenty of Fish, is newly located on the 26th floor of a downtown skyscraper with a revolving restaurant on the roof.
It’s a style meant for men twice his 33 years, boomers whose only exertion is to toddle to the first tee.
But evidently, the shirt is to Frind what the Adidas shower shoe is to Mark Zuckerberg. With just a diploma in computer systems from the British Columbia Institute of Technology (BCIT), Frind—the son of German farmers—has applied his prodigious talents to Plentyof Fish.com, the free dating website he founded in 2003 on his home PC. We are inside his company’s glass-walled boardroom, like specimens in an aquarium: a long, thin sturgeon (Frind) and a pufferfish (me).