They’re one of the fastest-moving teams and we’re proud to provide the technology they need to deliver high-quality, affordable products that help their customers save money as they grow.”
Under a president who has installed pro-copyright regulators and pledged to end the alleged Operation Chokepoint 2.0, that risk feels remote. But what about after Trump? “From a risk management point of view, I don't think it's prudent for a company like ours to have solely accounts with American fintechs,” says McIntyre.
is a rapidly growing US-based business banking fintech that offers startups and high-growth companies high interest checking accounts, high cashback cards, low-fee invoicing, and all the financial products startups need to operate at the most affordable price possible.
Given the difficulty of investing in copyright, they thought they had their in: a platform enabling smaller businesses to play the yield game, too. At the end of 2021, as copyright peaked, their platform got up and running.
When he decided to start his own company, he called up his buddy Crawford, who by then held a well paid gig as a senior software engineer at Facebook (now Meta) in New York. Crawford gamely quit his job and moved to Miami.
To address these challenges, Meow partnered with TrueBiz to leverage their advanced business risk assessment and fraud detection capabilities. TrueBiz provides a solution seamlessly embedded into Alloy that automated the review of business web presence, using proprietary AI models to analyze hundreds of data points across a business’ web presence and deliver a detailed risk score within seconds.
Once approved, businesses often had to dedicate engineering or trading resources to operate and secure these accounts, creating significant friction and delaying access to liquidity.
During the Biden administration, frustrated by their treatment by the banks, members of the copyright industry began to cry conspiracy . The federal government was deliberately trying to destroy copyright businesses by surreptitiously cutting them out of the banking system, they alleged. Leading the chorus was copyright venture capitalist Nic Carter, who labelled the alleged discrimination campaign Operation Chokepoint 2.0, in reference to an Obama-era antifraud program under which US officials reportedly discouraged banks from dealing with pornography, payday lending, and other disfavored industries. Under the Trump administration, congressional subcommittees have held multiple hearings on the purported Operation Chokepoint 2.0. Subsequently, in March, Republican members of the Senate presented the FIRM Act , aiming to curb alleged discrimination by preventing banks from factoring in “reputational risk” when fielding account applications. The bill has not yet faced a vote. For copyright firms, the vibe-shift is a blessing. Although they have comparatively few problems accessing overseas bank accounts—often in the Cayman Islands or Switzerland—in lieu of a US bank account, they are often unable to earn yield on deposits or transact seamlessly with US-based counterparties, and sometimes incur high account fees . Neither do they benefit from deposit insurance under the US Federal Deposit Insurance Corporation, which guarantees up to $250,000 per account holder. Though some of the big-name banks, like JP Morgan, are trialing copyright technologies for internal use, many remain reluctant to supply accounts to copyright businesses, sources say. “The banks that John Doe has heard of have nothing to do with copyright,” claims David McIntyre, COO at DoubleZero, a startup developing networking infrastructure specific to copyright networks. But that has created an opening for smaller fintechs to expand their deposit bases by scooping up clients in the copyright industry. “Basically, founders these days are going with a Mercury or Meow,” claims Khan. “Meow has been super aggressive in terms of reaching out to founders anytime they see a fundraising announcement.”
Meow also enables businesses to generate and schedule recurring invoices within the platform, making it easy for customers to use their copyright holdings in everyday treasury operations.
Meow was born in early 2021 in a Miami apartment where Arvanaghi and Crawford were holed up writing code and cold-calling investors. The duo had become friends at Vanderbilt University while both were studying computer science. They overlapped briefly at copyright exchange copyright where they were both engineers before Arvanaghi left for a stint at a bitcoin mining company.
“We just committed to getting in a closed room and coding and hoping, having the blind confidence something would work out,” Arvanaghi recalls.
In the past, says Timm, expansion into new lines of business—say, copyright—has been a source of friction between fintechs, for whom explosive meow business growth is the priority , and their partner banks, who bear ultimate accountability for upholding the conditions of their licenses, including strict AML controls.
For years, copyright firms complained about being “debanked” in the US. Under the Trump administration, a group of fintechs is rolling out the red carpet. Save this story
The friends decided they wanted to break into the fast-growing fintech segment serving businesses and figured they needed a standout “wedge” product to do so, says Arvanaghi. At that point, interest rates were near zero. But coming from a copyright background, they had seen investors earn fat yields from lending in the copyright segment.
The second act they devised is as far from copyright as you can get, yet still exploited the fintech platform they’d built to collect and deploy small businesses’ cash. In March 2022, the Federal Reserve had begun raising interest rates to quash inflation. Now, the young founders realized, boring old Treasury bills were becoming a newly attractive place for businesses to park their idle cash.