The home is the last building software forgot.

Veladoma — from the Spanish vela (to keep watch) and the Latin domus (the home). We build the platform that watches over the trades that fix the home and the caregivers that tend it. One tool. Flat price. AI included. So the operator at the kitchen-table doing payroll on Sunday gets her weekend back.

Software gets built for skyscrapers and SaaS. The houses on your street get sticky notes and spreadsheets.

Every American home, every week, is touched by a tradesperson or a caregiver. The HVAC tech who keeps the AC running through August. The plumber who shows up at 11pm. The home-health aide who sits with someone’s grandmother so she can stay in her own bed. That’s a $1.4 trillion economy — and it runs on tools built for office workers, sold by per-seat reps who’ve never ridden along on a service call.

Veladoma exists because the operator running 12 trucks or 40 caregivers deserves the same software craft that a Series-B startup gets. One platform. Trades and home health, on one record, one bill, one login. Flat pricing. No per-seat math, no AI surcharge, no annual contract. Real intelligence. Not a chatbot bolted on — Claude doing the dispatch, the invoicing, the appeal letter, the Saturday work.

Diego Salazar

Co-founder & CEO

Austin, March 2026

◆ Diego, in brief

Stripe, Plaid. Kid of a plumber. Takes calls from owners on Saturdays.

I started Veladoma the night my mom asked me to help with her payroll spreadsheet.

An honest founder note from Diego Salazar — not a “from idea to unicorn” arc. Why the home-services category was the one to build for, why now, and what we owe the operators paying us $349 a month.

It was a Sunday in March, and my mom was crying over a QuickBooks export.

My mom runs a six-truck plumbing shop in Corpus Christi — Salazar Plumbing, the one her dad started in 1981. She’s the dispatcher, the biller, the HR department, and the person who returns angry voicemails on Saturdays. That Sunday in March 2024, she called me about a payroll spreadsheet that wouldn’t reconcile. Three of her techs had hours that didn’t match the dispatch board. The board didn’t match the invoices. The invoices didn’t match QuickBooks. She’d been at it since 2 PM. It was 9.

I was in San Francisco at the time, working as a PM at Plaid. I’d built financial APIs for fintech startups. I had no idea my own family’s business was running on three different tools, two paper notebooks, and the contents of my mother’s head. I asked her what software she used. “ServiceTitan.” What about it? “It’s $1,800 a month and it doesn’t talk to QuickBooks and the AI feature is another four hundred.”

Every venture pitch in 2024 was “AI for lawyers” or “AI for radiologists.” Nobody was building for my mom.

I flew to Corpus Christi the next weekend. I sat in her office for three days. I rode along with two of her techs. I watched her dispatcher, Carmen, hold an eight-truck schedule together with the help of a whiteboard, a printed map, and the kind of memory that doesn’t transfer when someone quits. I had built financial software for billion-dollar companies. I had never seen software work this badly for a real business.

I started looking at the category. $1.4 trillion in annual U.S. spend. Roughly 700,000 trades shops and 30,000 home-health agencies. The platforms serving them — ServiceTitan, Jobber, Housecall Pro, AxisCare, HHAeXchange — were all built before LLMs existed and were bolting AI on as $400/month upcharges. They charged per user, which punished the exact growth they claimed to enable. They were structurally adversarial: the more your business worked, the more they cost.

I called my friend Anika Rao — she’d run engineering at a payments company that served home-health agencies. We sketched it on a napkin in May 2024: one record for a home, one platform for everyone who shows up there, one flat price, AI included by default. We named it Veladoma — to keep watch over the home — and started writing code in June.

If you’re paying us $349 a month, you should be able to call us by name.

Eleven of our 32 people came up in the trades or in home care. Carmen — my mom’s dispatcher — runs our customer-success team. We hire former owners, former biller-leads, former caregivers, before we hire MBAs. When you call support, the person who picks up has either dispatched a truck or closed an EVV claim. We think that’s not a luxury — it’s the bar.

My mom is customer #1. Salazar Plumbing has been on Veladoma since the day we shipped the dispatch board, and her invoices clear in seven minutes. Carmen took her first real vacation in twelve years last August. Those two facts are the only metrics that matter to me.

Five principles, written down so we can be held to them.

When we have to make a hard call — what to ship, what to refund, who to hire, what to charge — we go back to these. They’re not aspirational; they’re how we actually run.

The operator is the customer.
Not the IT director, not the CFO, not the consultant. The person dispatching trucks and signing payroll. If she doesn't recognize the value by Friday of week one, we built the wrong thing.
Software disappears.
Time-in-app is a cost we impose on our customers, not a metric we celebrate. Every release, we measure: did the average user spend less time on this workflow than last month? If not, why are we shipping?
One platform, one record.
A house is a house, whether the tech or the caregiver showed up. Trades and home health share data, share customers, share intelligence. Splitting them was the legacy market's mistake — not a feature.
AI is a floor, not a ceiling.
Claude is in the dispatch board, the invoice draft, the appeal letter, the "ask your business" chat. From day one, on every plan, no usage cap. We refuse to build a tier where intelligence is the upcharge.
The phone gets answered.
By a person who's run a shop or closed a claim. Not a chatbot, not a ticket queue, not a Tuesday-only "office hours" call. Support is product, and we staff it that way.
If we break a promise, tell us.
Email info@veladoma.com. Subject line: "you said." I read every one. We post the corrections publicly in our changelog.

Eleven of us came up in the trades or home care. The other twenty-one know who we work for.

We’re 32 people across Austin and Tampa, with a handful in Mexico City and Manila. We’re hiring engineers, EVV specialists, and customer-success people who’ve actually dispatched a truck or closed a claim. Open roles →

Diego Salazar

Co-founder & CEO

Stripe, Plaid. Kid of a plumber. Takes calls from owners on Saturdays.

Anika Rao

Co-founder & CTO

Eng leader from Square's home-services rails. Built the dispatch engine in a weekend.

Carmen Salinas

Head of Customer Success

Twenty-two years dispatching trucks for Salazar Plumbing. The voice on the support line.

Devora Kessler

Head of Billing & Compliance

Ran billing at Meridian Home Care for nine years. Hasn't worked a Saturday since 2025.

Two years from a Sunday in Corpus Christi to 2,800 operators on the platform.

  1. 1

    The kitchen-table call

    Diego flies to Salazar Plumbing for a weekend. Sketches Veladoma on a napkin with Carmen.

  2. 2

    First commit

    Diego & Anika quit their jobs. Salazar Plumbing becomes customer #1. Eight trucks dispatched off a Notion doc until July.

  3. 3

    EVV beta

    Devora joins. Meridian Home Care goes live with Cures Act capture across HHAeXchange and Sandata.

  4. 4

    1,000 operators

    Crossed 1,000 active orgs. Hired Carmen full-time to run customer success. Closed the seed round.

  5. 5

    2,800 & counting

    2,800 shops and agencies, $1.4B revenue run-rate processed, zero rejected EVV claims at our largest 14 agencies.

Built for the operator at the kitchen table.

14-day free trial. We import your customers, techs, caregivers, and open auths in an afternoon. The phone gets answered.