apps

Developer of multiple apps

Israeli app developer Uri Levine. (photo from Uri Levine)

This could be the year you start saving all kinds of money and time from using apps, and you may have Israeli Uri Levine to thank for it.

Levine, a computer programmer, investor and start-up guru, was a Waze co-founder (with two others), as well as president of the Israel-based company from 2007 to 2013.

Waze’s platform provides drivers an opportunity to post real-time alerts about any traffic situation for other drivers, anywhere in the world. Four years ago, Google bought Waze for a reported $1.3 billion US, said to be the largest buyout in the history of Israeli high tech.

“Waze had to be sold,” Levine told the Independent. “Only Google knew how to monetize it in a gigantic way that we could never be able to do.” Today, 50 million people use the app.

Since his Waze days, Levine has been hard at work producing other apps meant to help consumers. To name a few, Engie connects to your car’s diagnostic computer, informing you of precisely what needs repairs before going to the mechanic. For people looking for discounted hotel rooms, Roomer helps people who want to offload non-refundable hotel reservations. Then there’s Fairfly: once people have bought their airplane tickets, the service searches for a cheaper flight. Similarly, with FairSale, another after-purchase app, once you’ve already bought an item, you scan your receipt with your phone, and the service will keep tabs on when the store has a price guarantee. According to Levine, about $130 billion is lost by American consumers alone because they don’t know about, or they ignore, low-price guarantees.

In 2009, while still working at Waze, Levine launched the app FeeX with a $100,000 investment. The aim is to help people save money on financial services and investment funds. The idea came to him during the economic downturn, at a time when funds in his own investment portfolio lost a fifth of their value, and he had been charged what he thought was an unjust bank user fee.

“After I argued with them, they reimbursed me. That’s when I wanted to find ways to expose hidden financial fees,” he said. “FeeX examines people’s portfolios and suggests similar investments that have less expensive fees.”

In the United States, he said, people pay about $600 billion annually to investment managers for retirement and other funds. Today, there are about 30,000 users of FeeX in America and about 100,000 in Israel.

Levine holds a bachelor’s of economics from Tel Aviv University, but his love for programming came earlier. In 1981, at age 16, he acquired his first computer, a Sinclair ZX – in its day, it was one of the most popular computers globally, with just two kilobytes of memory. By way of example, most microwave ovens manufactured in 1982 had more functionality.

One of Levine’s first jobs was as a software developer in the Israeli army. Later, he became a developer at Comverse, a telecommunications company in Israel. About 20 years ago, Comverse was one of the largest employers of software engineers, and a high-tech industry success story.

“I would nearly say that the economics degree provided me with a point of view, but the real study was in the army and, later, on the job as a developer,” he said.

Often asked for his advice on how to launch a start-up, Levine offered a five-step approach: “First, fall in love with the problem – not the solution. Second, make mistakes fast; the biggest enemy of good enough is perfect. Third, focus – it’s very easy to defocus. You have to say no to everything else which is not solving the problem. Fourth, half of the startups fail because they realize that the team is not right and they don’t fix it. And, finally, understand who your users are, and what their perception of the problem is.”

As for apps, those wishing to create and launch one should have this goal in mind, he said: “Create value for the users, and make it simple to get to the value.”

Dave Gordon is a Toronto-based freelance writer whose work has appeared in more than 100 publications around the world.

Rower turns to apps

Matthew Segal (front, facing the camera) and his teammates at the Royal Henley Regatta in England. (photo from Matthew Segal)

Matthew Segal was an all-round athlete until the age of 15, when he found his one true love: rowing. He fell in love with the sport while he was a student at St. George’s School in Vancouver and followed it to Yale, where he rowed for the university’s lightweight varsity rowing team. In recent months, Segal, 22, the grandson of Vancouver icon Joe Segal, returned to Vancouver after graduating with a bachelor’s degree in economics from Yale. His most memorable times at school were spent rowing, specifically in the boat’s coveted position of stroke seat.

“Coaches look for a rower’s rhythm, length and the reliability of their endurance when they select the stroke seat,” Matthew explained to the Independent. “It was an honor to fill that role but I think the stroke takes too much of the credit. The success we had is attributable to every single guy on the boat.”

Segal’s father, real estate developer Lorne Segal, said he believes his son has been the only Jewish stroke of the Yale Varsity boat since intercollegiate sport began in the United States. While rowing began at Yale before 1852 and was the first collegiate sport, Lorne Segal said, “The first U.S. intercollegiate sport was a rowing race between Harvard and Yale in 1852; prior to that, Yale would simply race internally. So, the entire intercollegiate sport system started in the U.S. with the Harvard-Yale race, which has become one of the most famous annual races.”

photo - Matthew Segal at graduation — Matthew Segal at graduation. *(photo from Matthew Segal)*

Segal’s team had an undefeated regular season in 2016 before it went on to compete in the Eastern Sprints, a race against rowing teams of the top 18 schools in the United States. When they won the Eastern Sprints, they were invited to race in the prestigious Royal Henley Regatta in England, where they competed against 72 boats and were the only lightweight team to make it to the semifinal.

Lorne and Mélita Segal traveled to England to see their son compete. “They were racing the Cornell heavyweights who were, on average, 35 pounds heavier. It was a real David and Goliath battle!” said the proud father.

As he reflected on his final season on the rowing team, Segal said it was “one of the best seasons Yale ever had.” No stranger to winning, Segal also set two world records during the winter season, when he and his team were training indoors on ergometers: in the lightweight category for the 500-metre distance and for a one-minute test.

Now back at home and focusing on his career, Segal’s body is adjusting after being used to a rigorous schedule that saw him training 11 times a week. “I have different priorities right now but I’ll always hold rowing close to my heart,” he said.

These days, his attention is keenly focused on a series of mobile apps he’s developing with his company, Lipsi Software Development Inc.

Lipsi is an anonymous messaging app geared at high school and college-age kids that facilitates interactions that might not otherwise occur. “It’s supposed to be a fun platform for approaching people under the veneer of anonymity,” he explained. Another project is a gift-giving app that facilitates random acts of kindness by allowing givers to send recipients a small gift via text message.

In both of these endeavors, Segal is the mastermind behind the ideas, concepts, app layouts and legalities, but he has outsourced the technical component to programmers he describes as “some of the most brilliant people I know.”

Coming from a family such as his, you might think Segal is under extraordinary pressure to succeed.

“It’s always lurking in the back of my head that I need to try and live up to my dad and grandfather’s achievements,” he admitted. “In my life, I’ve tried to focus on the things that have meant the most to me, pursuing them to the highest level possible. And my parents have always been very supportive with regard to anything I’ve pursued. They’ve never told me I need to follow a certain career path, they’ve just told me to do what I do, and do it well. I think that’s the best approach in life.”

Lauren Kramer, an award-winning writer and editor, lives in Richmond. To read her work online, visit laurenkramer.net.

The pitfalls of Jewish dating apps

It’s rare to find a Jew who hasn’t heard of JDate. Responsible for bringing countless members of the community together in matrimony, a whole generation of young people has grown up taking photos for upload to its hallowed webpages. But 20-something Jews, permanently attached to their cellphones as are most millennials, have many other options now for finding “the one.” Aside from actually meeting people face-to-face (G-d forbid), phone apps are being touted as the way forward.

The apps attempt to connect an array of Jewish singletons – if you both “like” each other, then you can chat. The market leaders, more established JSwipe and new kid on the block Jfiix, promise to connect you with “cool, young and mobile Jewish singles.” As someone who fits these criteria (it’s cool to label yourself cool, right?), I’m here to explain why I don’t believe they’ll achieve their aim. Having lived in London, Toronto and Vancouver, I’ll do this with the help of both personal insight and that of various Jewish young professionals in all three cities.

First, there’s the geography aspect – Jewish dating apps all aim to introduce you to other Jews. Thanks smartphones, but that’s not actually a problem we have. Anyone can tell you how Jews (and other ethnic groups) cluster together in most cities. Simply check out the suburb of Thornhill in Toronto or Golders Green in London if you don’t believe me. In Vancouver, with a Jewish community that a good friend comments is “half a block” wide, it’s not difficult to find members of the tribe. We do, after all, have a shared interest in hobbies such as eating and gossiping – where we find out that supposed strangers are often third or fourth cousins.

This closeness is usually a positive: even if you’re unfamiliar with the specific community or country, Jews, in my experience, excel at inclusivity and making newbies feel welcome. But when it comes to dating apps, it leads to a problem that’s twofold. If you do live in a Jewish area, chances are that you’ll already know other Jews from synagogue, Hebrew school, Birthright or friends of friends. In response to my questioning, a friend in London summed up the issue: “Jewish dating apps are great to keep your parents and grandparents happy, but you end up just swiping left to everyone, as you know them or they’re your best friend’s ex.” So, when you live in densely saturated Jewish areas, mobile apps are needless. And, when you don’t, they aren’t helpful either. One Vancouverite I spoke to, who goes to university in Halifax, remarked, “In my limited East Coast experience, there’s no one on Jewish dating apps. Everyone who shows up is from the States.” It’s little surprise that he set up a profile with Tinder, a similar app but one that’s open to all religions.

This leads me to the second problem with Jewish dating apps: the apps themselves. Certainly, critiques can be leveled at any and all such platforms. One Ontario-based law student refuses to download dating apps, full stop, arguing that people’s profiles are so “planned” and “calculated.” True, the information you put about yourself on dating apps is mostly limited to a line-long bio and several photos, and everyone tries to look their most cultured, well-traveled self in photos. Not only does everyone start to look like clone-like serial vacationers, but it means images, not personality, inevitably end up being the deciding factor in choosing dates.

Jewish apps have somewhat tried to sideline this prioritization of looks with “Jewish preference” tools. JSwipe, for instance, lets you select preferred options for being matched up: you can choose between kosher or not, as well as denominations from Orthodox to Reform to “willing to convert.” This is a pretty rudimentary way of sifting through Jewish singles when you compare it with the fact that people used to put some actual thought into matchmaking those who might work well as a couple. A graduate in Toronto lamented that “everyone’s stopped trying to set up other friends with mutual friends because swipe-based dating apps have become the new thing.” The new thing they are, but a new thing that’s being adopted reluctantly.

Why? I attribute this, in part, to an image problem. The apps aren’t appealingly designed and are more than a little cringe-worthy. Unlike other dating apps with more casual connotations (Tinder) or novel niches (Coffee Meets Bagel), Jewish ones are severely lacking the trendy factor. In my experience, this was because they didn’t seem fun or relaxed, and they certainly didn’t seem like they’d lead to the exciting adventure that dating surely should be. In short: they seemed to be full of people who felt like they “had to” find a Jew. And, depressingly enough, it was difficult to distinguish between whether this hint of dutiful desperation could be attributed to themselves, their parents or even their grandparents.

This is why, for many, the apps are a good idea in theory, but less so in practice. The focus on Judaism implies that if two people’s religious beliefs match up, then they’re clearly compatible. This neglects vital questions such as, “Is this person actually nice?” and “Do we have anything in common bar religion?” And I’d go so far as to say that sticking steadfastly to dating Jews means sticking to your comfort zone, as you’ll likely be from a similar background. But what are your 20s for if not to date people from other walks of life? At worst, dating vastly different people can highlight what you don’t want in a relationship. At best, you’ll gain life experience and learn a ton about different cultures. I say this as someone with a dating history that includes Christians and Muslims, but who, at the end of the day, would love to settle down with someone Jewish.

What doesn’t help in this regard is being warned before a first date with a non-Jew, “You can’t marry him” (thanks, Dad). Any young person will tell you that the more a rule is enforced, the more you want to rebel against it. It’s no different when it comes to dating. Ask pretty much any young Jew and they’ll attest to the pressure we feel from family and community to settle down with a Jewish spouse. It’s easy to joke about, but the joke’s on them when the pressure pushes us away. The burden is too much, too soon. But, Dad, and other parents, just because we experiment in our 20s doesn’t mean we don’t want a Jewish household. I’m sure I will have one eventually – well, we can pray, for my dad’s sake. And you know the guy in Halifax who traded a Jewish app for Tinder? He noted, “My bio has Hebrew in it, so I guess there’s a subconscious hope that it’ll attract Jews?”

Parents, have faith that we’ll come around and maybe, just maybe, we’ll do it without having to resort to mildly dire religion-specific dating apps.

Rebecca Shapiro is a freelance journalist, amateur photographer and blogger at thethoughtfultraveller.com. A recent politics graduate, she manages to maintain bases in London, Vancouver and Toronto, while focusing a disproportionate amount of time planning new adventures. She has been published in the Times (U.K.), Huffington Post (U.K.), That’s Shanghai (China) and ELLE Canada.