Why Corgi's Founders Shut Down a Working Startup to Become an Insurance Carrier

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Overview

Corgi describes itself as an AI insurance company for technology startups. In this interview, CEO Nico Laqua and co-founder and COO Emily Yuan explain why they gave up a promising insurance brokerage during Y Combinator and spent years and tens of millions of dollars becoming a regulated insurance carrier. Laqua says the company will end this year at "several hundred million dollars in ARR" and calls it one of the fastest-growing B2B companies on the planet. The founders' central argument is that the hard, capital-intensive path was worth taking. In their view, reselling someone else's product would have made Corgi "a pretty boring company," while rebuilding the underlying infrastructure gives it a moat that competitors will struggle to cross.

12 min read

Two founders, two temperaments

Laqua grew up in San Diego. He describes the jobs he held in high school as frustrating, with bosses who wasted his time, and says that at some point he decided he wanted to do something "big and important" with his life. Starting a company seemed like the best way to do that. Before COVID he spent a lot of time in startup and hacker communities building apps. One of them was an app for college clubs, which he now calls the kind of idea a 19-year-old who can program but doesn't know much about startups typically comes up with.

That app is how he met Yuan. She was running one of Stanford's entrepreneurship clubs, and he asked her to test it. Most people gave him weak feedback, he recalls, but Yuan came back with a Figma page containing around 100 comments. Yuan says Laqua wanted help promoting the app across Stanford, and she gradually became more involved. That work became a company called Picnic, which later turned into the gaming company Basket.

The two describe complementary strengths. Yuan says Laqua is very good at identifying good opportunities, and that her own skill is figuring out how to get complicated things done: "you can throw like a very complicated thing at me and I'll go and figure out how to like get it done." She traces this back to high school, when she and some friends started a nonprofit called Paper Bridges. It began by sending letters to orphans and foster children around the world and later, as it grew, donated medical supplies and face masks through centers in the US. She took from that experience the idea that a student without much funding or resources could still have a lot of impact: if she was able to do something, she should gather people and go for it.

Leaving Basket in search of something bigger

Laqua says Basket made "a lot of really great games" and that he got the company to where he wanted it, after more than four years there. But it did not feel impactful. Yuan says it was a very different kind of company from what the two wanted to spend the next ten years building. She wants to spend her time in the "highest leverage way possible," and they wanted to pursue "the biggest, most ambitious thing possible."

The case for ambitious, hard ideas

Laqua pushes back on a common piece of startup advice. Building a product you would use yourself is normally good advice, he says, but young founders often end up solving problems that are much smaller than they could be. Many people assume that shrinking a big idea into something small makes success more likely. He argues for the opposite: pursue the most ambitious version. His reasons are practical. An ambitious mission attracts smart people who want to join, investors are more likely to fund it, and if it succeeds it changes the world in an interesting way.

He admits it's hard to call any idea good or bad in advance, since things sometimes work out in unexpected ways. His general view is that good ideas tend to be difficult, and that doing hard things works out better partly because it makes the company harder to copy. Being "the 50th app for college students on campus" or "the 500th restaurant in the financial district" isn't a good business, he says, because it means being the same as everyone else. A good business does something unique and becomes "the company" in its category. He argues that a category-defining company can't be simple, easy and capital-light. It has to be the "craziest, the highest impact, the highest leverage" version of the idea.

A $60,000 policy and a broken buying experience

The founders came to insurance through their own bad experience. Laqua had to buy insurance for his previous company when it had little money. The policy cost $60,000, while he was earning roughly $1,000 to $2,000 a month. Getting it meant calling brokers, waiting several weeks for the policy, and going weeks without replies to his emails. "And of course, they never paid out anything," he adds.

Yuan was struck by how slow the process was even though they were trying to hand over money. Everyone took forever to respond, and it was confusing what they were even buying. Looking at how the industry was set up, she remembers thinking it was remarkable that such a large industry ran this way.

Laqua says he concluded "this stuff is a scam." He cites insurance as about 12% of GDP and roughly twice as large a market category as software. In his account, heavy regulation and a large regulatory barrier to entry, combined with the fact that most major insurers started 40 or more years ago, have made incumbents comfortable and complicit and allowed their product quality to keep getting worse.

Outsiders as an advantage

Yuan argues that people with 20 years in the industry have valuable experience but also a "solidified mindset" about how things are supposed to work. When they adopt technology, they tend to plug it into existing infrastructure. Coming in with a blank slate lets Corgi ask why something is done a certain way and whether there's a better approach, and to drop steps that aren't needed when building from an AI- and tech-native starting point. She says they didn't seriously consider other industries. Insurance seemed like the right place at the right time, and they believed they could build a team to do it.

The brokerage that worked, and why they killed it

Corgi entered Y Combinator already licensed as an insurance brokerage. The plan was to embed insurance within contract management companies, which Laqua calls just being a broker and "doing the normal thing." It was working. They had sold tens of thousands of dollars of premium, and revenue growth was good.

Yuan says that at first they misread where the problems in the insurance stack were. They assumed insurers simply weren't marketing aggressively enough. What they found was that brokers depended on old, traditional insurance carriers, which made it very hard to offer a good product. Laqua describes the day-to-day reality: phone calls to carriers for every single policy, and a fax machine they had to buy to send documents back and forth. He would look up these carriers, see they were $100 billion or $200 billion companies, and find that they still ran on faxes and phone calls. Assuming a better carrier must exist, the team checked every one. They say none were better.

That led them to conclude that the problem wasn't the website or the technology but the underlying product, the insurance policy itself. To control that product, Yuan says, the only real option was to become a carrier.

So they shut down a brokerage that was working. Laqua stresses that this was not an obvious decision and was quite controversial. He thinks that if they had kept going they might have been one of the top companies in their batch, if not the top. Their stated vision became not to build on top of, modernize or fix existing insurers, but to create "a new type of financial institution": becoming a highly regulated financial entity and rebuilding it from the ground up with AI. Yuan repeats the outsider theme here. She says it's very hard to untrain yourself from an existing paradigm, and being new to the industry let them say, in effect, "we'll just go and make an AI version of that."

Years of being "default dead"

Laqua is candid about the cost. You can't simply start an insurance carrier. Corgi went from a company doing very well in its batch to one doing poorly. They did not present at Demo Day and were "not one of the hot companies" in the batch. The process took several years, and he says the company almost ended "on many, many occasions" and was often "default dead." In total it took tens of millions of dollars. Laqua says they had to raise roughly $80 million almost before having revenue. Elsewhere in the interview, he says they had to raise over $100 million to make it happen.

He says they raised this money without ever making a pitch deck, going out to market, or running a competitive fundraise. His explanation is that they made themselves "a hard company to bet against." Investors from their Y Combinator period visited the office and saw it full every day of the week. In conversations with anyone at the company, they could tell the team cared deeply about the problem, wanted to win, and believed the end goal would make the world better. Taken together, he says, that made it easier for people to bet on them.

Living at the office

Yuan argues that an industry as large and complicated as insurance demands enormous time. She lives very close to the office. Laqua lives in the office, and many team members live nearby. Without "110% effort," she says, it can't be done properly.

Laqua frames this as the particular strength of young founders. They have a lot of time and energy, and the trade-off is that they don't have much money, which he acknowledges from experience is tough. In his view, that time and energy are worth a lot, and the hours they can spend on hard problems are very difficult for others to compete with.

Regulation: difficult, but not mysterious

The two founders describe regulation somewhat differently. Yuan, who says she has always been good at reading and understanding legal documents, calls regulation "not some mysterious thing." Regulators tell you what you can and cannot do. If you follow the directions and stay within the guidelines, she says, "it's all doable."

Laqua stresses the difficulty. "It wasn't for fun" that they raised over $100 million, and it wasn't for fun that it took two years. He also calls it "almost two years" of regulatory licensing before they could launch their first product. Still, he says that once they received their first set of licenses, revenue began growing very quickly, the company looked much healthier, and it inflected.

Why the moat holds

Laqua's growth argument is simple. People go to the easiest, most convenient product available, and if you are that product they will come without much extra marketing. He says Corgi is fundamentally a better product than the alternatives, and that unless someone builds an entirely new carrier for startups, there aren't many other options.

He admits that operating in regulated industries is very difficult and capital-intensive. But once the core infrastructure is in place, a great deal can be built on top of it. He sees the cost of getting there as the moat: it's hard for anyone to build "a Corgi 2.0" because of how much time and money the infrastructure required, and most companies can't do that. Getting the hard part done and out of the way, he says, is a major advantage for Corgi.

He closes by returning to why they didn't stay a broker. If all they did was resell someone else's product, he believes Corgi would have been a boring and unimportant company: "I don't think you can change the world if you're reselling someone else's product." So they decided to become the infrastructure. By his own account, it took much longer and cost much more than they expected, but in the end he thinks it worked out.