Three passionate people. One mission.
Change lives.

When it all started

A few years ago, my life looked like that of millions of mothers in France. Two young children, a modest apartment in the Paris suburbs, and that nagging anxiety that came back every end of month: are we going to make it?

My husband worked hard, but one salary for four people doesn't leave much room. No vacations, no outings, no extras. I counted every euro at the supermarket, I compared the price of every product, and some evenings, I fell asleep with this knot in my stomach thinking about next month's rent.

One day, by chance, scrolling on my phone during the children's nap time, I came across an article about "ways to make a little money from home". I was skeptical — like everyone, I'd heard about these internet scams. But something pushed me to click. Maybe desperation. Maybe hope.

I started slowly. A cashback here, a promo code there, a paid survey from time to time. It was only a few euros, but those few euros changed everything. For the first time in a long time, I could give the children a special snack without feeling guilty.

Little by little, I became an expert. I knew all the sites, all the tricks, all the pitfalls to avoid. I started sharing my discoveries on social media — first with my friends, then with strangers living the same situation as me. Within a few months, I had a small community of several thousand people following me, asking me questions, thanking me.

And the question that came up most often, the one I received ten times a day in my private messages, was always the same: "Amber, what's the best site for paid surveys?"

The meeting that changed everything

For months, I tested dozens of survey platforms. Some were decent, many were disappointing, a few were outright scams. I spent my evenings analyzing everything, comparing earnings, payment times, reliability. And every time, I shared my conclusions with my community.

It was at a technology event in Paris that I met Jordan and Stanislas. Two tech enthusiasts, the kind of people who talk about code like others talk about football. Jordan had this contagious energy, that look that lights up when he talks about a project. Stanislas, more reserved, had that rare ability to make the complicated seem simple.

We started talking. I told them about my daily life: the moms asking me for advice, the people struggling at the end of the month, the survey platforms that promised the world but delivered crumbs. They listened. Really listened.

And then Jordan said something I'll never forget: "What if we stopped looking for the right platform… and created it ourselves?"

I laughed. Not because it was funny, but because the idea was so… obvious. So right. For months, I'd been telling my community "this one's not bad, but…", "that one's good except…". There was always a "but". Always an "except".

That night, we stayed until the café closed. We scribbled on napkins, made lists, dreamed out loud. The idea for Worldeoo was born between two cold coffees and an energy none of us three had felt in a long time.

We never parted ways again.

Birth of a platform

The months that followed, I lived them like in a movie. A movie with a lot of sleepless nights, doubts, moments where we wondered if we weren't crazy.

Jordan coded day and night. Literally. I remember calling him one Sunday at 7 a.m. with an idea I'd had while preparing a bottle — he'd already been at his computer since 5 a.m. Stanislas worked on technical architecture, data security, everything that makes a platform hold up when thousands of people connect to it at the same time.

And me? My role was to be the voice of users. Every feature, every button, every word on the platform had to pass the "Amber test": would my neighbor Marie, 52 years old, who's never used anything but Facebook, understand? Would Karim, 23, a broke student, find it fast enough to sign up between classes?

We refused to do like the others. No incomprehensible dashboards. No point systems that make no sense. No withdrawal thresholds impossible to reach. We wanted every person who arrives on Worldeoo to say: "Finally, someone thought of me."

We chose to offer payment methods that people actually use: PayPal, SEPA transfers, Amazon gift cards. No virtual currency, no obscure conversions. You earn 2 euros, you see 2 euros. That's it.

Every evening, I posted behind-the-scenes content on my social media. The bugs we were fixing (there were plenty), the small victories, the moments of discouragement too. My community followed it all like a TV series. They encouraged us, gave us ideas, told us when something wasn't working. They were part of the adventure before the platform even existed.

On launch day, I cried. From exhaustion, relief, pride. We had put everything we had into this project — our time, our energy, our savings. And now, it was there, alive, accessible to everyone.

From France to the rest of the world

We had imagined Worldeoo for France. For moms like me, for students, for everyone looking for an honest income boost. We thought that if we helped a few thousand French people, that would already be a great victory.

But the internet has no borders.

Very quickly, we started receiving messages from Belgium, Switzerland, Canada. Then from Morocco, Tunisia, Senegal. People telling us: "We need this too. We also struggle to make ends meet." These messages touched us deeply.

Jordan and Stanislas got back to work. We had to adapt the platform: currencies, local survey partners, payment methods that vary from country to country. It was a huge technical challenge, but with each new country we opened, we received an avalanche of thank-yous that gave us the energy to continue.

I remember a message from a young woman in Ivory Coast who told us: "Thanks to Worldeoo, I was able to buy my son's school supplies without asking anyone." I printed that message and hung it above my desk. It's still there.

Today, Worldeoo is accessible in over 150 countries. One hundred fifty. When I think about it, I can hardly believe it. A few years ago, I was a mom comparing yogurt prices at the supermarket. Today, people on five continents use the platform we created in a Parisian café.

Each country has its culture, its habits, its specific needs. We don't copy-paste. We listen, we adapt, we respect. That's what makes the difference between an international platform and a truly global one.

What drives us every day

People often ask us: "What's your secret? How do you stay motivated after all this time?"

The answer is simple: we read your messages.

Every day, we receive dozens of testimonials. The student who could pay for their transport pass. The retiree who treats herself without guilt. The dad who set aside money for his children's Christmas gifts. These stories are what carry us. They're what give meaning to everything we do.

Jordan often says we're "digital Robin Hoods". The idea makes me smile, but deep down, it's quite accurate. Big companies need consumer opinions — they pay for it. And we make sure that money reaches the pockets of people who need it, in the simplest and fairest way possible.

We're not a Silicon Valley startup with offices costing 10,000 euros per square meter. We don't have a chief happiness officer or a ping-pong table. We're three people who deeply believe that everyone deserves a helping hand. That people's time has value. That giving your opinion should be rewarded.

Since day one, our philosophy hasn't changed: keep things simple, be honest, and never forget where we came from.

I'm still that mom comparing prices at the supermarket. Jordan still codes at 5 in the morning. Stanislas still checks three times that everything works before putting anything online. We haven't changed. We just found a way to turn our passion into something useful for others.