Every Chief Design Officer has a moment where they realize what they were actually meant to design for.
For me, it wasn't a product. It wasn't a feature. It was a mission.
The phone call that changed everything
I was leading design at Amazon — one of the most respected companies in the world. The work was challenging, the scale was massive, and the team was incredible. There was no reason to leave.
Then Blake Hall called.
Blake is the CEO of ID.me — a former Army captain who earned two Bronze Star medals, including one with Valor. He didn't lead with the product. He didn't lead with the business metrics. He led with four words:
"No Identity Left Behind."
I grew up on the North Shore of Oʻahu, raised by a family that taught me something fundamental: you stand up for people. You protect them. You make sure nobody gets left behind. My grandfather — Lieutenant Colonel Frank Carlos Sr., who I lovingly called Papa — lived this every day of his life. He served his country, he served his family, and he instilled in me the belief that the highest thing you can do with your life is protect others.
Papa is the reason I love Batman. Not because of the gadgets or the cape — because Bruce Wayne made a choice. He saw a city that needed someone to stand in the gap, and he decided that person would be him. Every single day.
When Blake said "No Identity Left Behind," I heard Papa. I heard something heroic. I heard something I'd been looking for my entire career without knowing it.
From entertainment to purpose
Let me be real about something.
Before ID.me, my career as a design leader was in entertainment technology. I helped create Fandango — back when selling movie tickets online was a genuinely novel idea. I led design at CBS as they transformed from a television company into an interactive one, launching what became Paramount+ from the ground up. That work contributed to the merger of CBS and Paramount. I then moved on to lead design for Prime Video at Amazon.
Those are impressive names. And I'm proud of what we built. I may have made it easier for you to reserve seats for a movie you were excited about. I may have helped you find your favorite show a little faster on a Friday night.
But if I'm being honest with you — and I'm always going to be honest with you — I don't know how much real value I brought into people's lives.
At ID.me, I know exactly how much value I bring. Every single day.
We are protecting real people from real bad actors who are using AI to pretend to be them — to steal their tax returns, their unemployment benefits, their identities. As a Chief Design Officer, I'm responsible for ensuring that the experiences we build are so effortless and so intuitive that the people who depend on them — millions of Americans — can use them without friction, without confusion, and without being left behind.
That's not a tagline. That's what I wake up for.
What "No Identity Left Behind" actually looks like
It's easy for a company to put a mission statement on a wall. It's something else entirely to fund it.
When I joined ID.me, I was given budget to make my first hire — one Principal Designer. I told Blake I wanted to bring over the best designer I'd ever worked with from Amazon: Nick Beese. I also told Blake that Nick is deaf.
Without a moment of hesitation, Blake expanded the budget so I could also hire Nick's ASL interpreter, Rubin Hancock. Not as an afterthought. Not after a committee reviewed it. Immediately — because that's what "No Identity Left Behind" means when you actually believe it.
That decision told me everything I needed to know about this company.
I've since built my entire Design team around Nick and Rubin. And here's what's remarkable: the story of how they were hired has been the single most powerful thing I share when recruiting. It's the closer. Every designer on my team heard that story and said, "That's where I want to work." Several executives heard it and made the same decision.
Nick, Rubin, and I now speak together at conferences across the country about the importance of accessibility and inclusive design. Not because it's a nice initiative — because it's who we are.
As a Chief Design Officer, accessibility isn't something I delegate. It's a cornerstone of my identity as a design leader. When I say I want experiences to be effortless, I mean for everyone — including people with disabilities. I use my mom as a constant gut check with my team: "Would my mom understand what to do next? Would she feel confident, or would she feel lost?" If the answer isn't immediate clarity, we haven't done our job.
The beautiful thing about designing with accessibility in mind is that it simplifies the experience for everyone. Fewer steps. Fewer screens. Copy you can glance at and understand. Motion that guides you instead of distracting you. When you design for the widest range of people possible, you raise the bar for all people. Accessible design IS better design.
Why this is personal
As the single login for the IRS and a key login for government services including the Social Security Administration and Veterans Affairs, ID.me has to work for all humans. That's not aspiration — it's obligation.
Blake understands this viscerally. As a veteran, he knows that the people who served this country are often disabled because of that service. Accessibility isn't a feature request for him — it's personal.
I didn't serve in the military. But several members of my family did — starting with Papa. His drive to protect people is woven into everything I do as a leader. It's why I chose ID.me. It's why Batman isn't just a fandom for me — it's a philosophy. My office is a Batcave. I drive a Batmobile. Every Wednesday is "Bruce Wayne Wednesday" where I dress up, connect with someone outside my department, and build relationships across the company. People laugh about it, and they should — it's fun. But underneath the fun is something real: I believe that showing up as your full self, with your full personality, while doing work that protects people — that's what leadership looks like.
After two decades of designing experiences for entertainment, I found what I was meant to do. ID.me is how I serve. ID.me is how I protect. This is what I was built for.
If you're looking for what I'm looking for
I've talked to a lot of designers, engineers, and leaders over the years who tell me they want their work to matter. They want to feel something when they ship. They want to know that what they built made someone's life better — not just easier to navigate, but genuinely better.
If that's you, keep reading.
If you want to fight bad guys who are using AI to steal people's identities — you should work at ID.me.
If you believe every person deserves to be treated with respect and dignity, regardless of ability, background, or economic status — you should work at ID.me.
If you want to work at a company where the focus is on the people we serve, not on politics — you should work at ID.me.
If you want to be accepted for exactly who you are — even if that means someone who turns their office into a Batcave and genuinely believes they might be Batman — you should work at ID.me.
If you want to act like an owner and make a meaningful impact on the lives of millions of Americans — you should work at ID.me.
I look forward to working with you.
