I was talking to a friend last week who works at a large company. They were telling me about a simple request they needed to make, something like getting access to a folder or submitting a leave application.

But what stayed with me wasn't the task. It was the process: three people, two systems, and in the end, they still weren't sure if it went through.

It sounded tiring. But more than that, it sounded normal.

And that’s what got me thinking. So many things around us today are unnecessarily complicated. Whether it's work processes, government forms, or the apps we use, we've gotten used to things being harder than they need to be.

We don't question it anymore. We expect long dropdowns, five-step logins, delays, handoffs, and never-ending email threads.

And when something feels... simple? We almost don't trust it.

The myth of complexity

There's this belief that complexity equals capability.

If it's simple, it's not serious. If it's lightweight, it won't scale. If it doesn't look like a dashboard with graphs flying across all directions, it's probably just a toy.

But I don't think that's true.

We've all seen it. Decks with 20 slides when 5 would do. Meetings packed with jargon no one uses in real life. Forms requesting excessive information for simple tasks. Email threads with more CCs than actual replies. Five tools to do what one could. And a small decision? Three meetings, two approvals, and a follow-up call.

We add layers and complexities not because they help but because they feel safe.

Our approach at Frappe

At Frappe, we’ve always tried to keep things simple.

Fewer rules. Fewer layers. We give people ownership instead of instructions, trusting them to act with transparency and accountability. Decisions are made democratically, debates happen in public, and every voice counts.

That same philosophy has shaped the way we build products, especially the new ones. Whether it’s Helpdesk, CRM, Learning, Insights, or Builder, we’ve stuck to one principle: make it simple enough to just work.

And no, these weren’t born out of market trends or research reports. We built them because we needed them ourselves. And we wanted them to feel simple. Not basic or stripped-down, but thoughtfully designed so you can just get things done.

The goal was never to be trendy. The goal was to feel obvious.

But can simplicity scale?

I often hear this question: "Sure, simplicity works for a 70-person company like Frappe, but what about large enterprises?"

Actually, simplicity becomes more crucial as organizations grow, not less.

Large companies don't need more complexity, they need clearer systems. Look at Netflix. They moved away from approval-heavy processes to a culture of radical transparency and ownership. And they didn’t fall apart. They did better. Or Amazon — even as they scaled massively, they stuck to the “two-pizza team” rule to keep teams small and agile.

The most successful large organizations don't add unnecessary layers. They are designed for simplicity, with clear principles that let people make decisions without needing constant approvals and micromanagement. Complexity isn’t the price of growth. Most of the time, it’s just a habit no one questions.

Now, are we there yet? No. Simplicity at scale is hard. But it’s worth striving for — even if it means rethinking defaults and rewriting parts of the playbook as we go.

Still unlearning

Talking about our products, we know that we are not all the way there. Some things are still clunky. Some flows still need refinement. But that's the goal. To strip away the noise, to question the defaults, and to build things that make sense again.

Everything we build is open source. You can try it, shape it, fork it, or even walk away if it doesn’t work for you. No per-user pricing. No buzzwords or overhyped features. Just products that do what they're supposed to and quietly get out of your way.

Simple starts here

If this approach resonates with you, we'd love for you to try what we're building at Frappe. And if they don't work for you? That's okay, too. At least you've started questioning the unnecessary complexity around you. And sometimes, that's where simplicity begins.