An $18,000 fine from the NDIS Commission landed on a Monday morning, after a support worker went ahead without training required for that specific situation.
Humdrum chose registration and direct employment from day one, against near-unanimous advice that it was a fast way to tie itself up in red tape and taxes.
The weak link turned out to be the training itself: disconnected, dull, clinical and classroom-bound.
The answer is Humversity — an in-app learning and credentialing system of quick, scrollable lessons built with people who actually understand support work, with plans to open it up more widely.
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Good Morning, Commission.
Sitting in bed, I look out the dew-covered window at a lone willy wagtail bravely defending its wormy feast against an indifferent crow beneath the red flowering gum. My phone lights up with an email notification, it’s Monday, go time.
“Good Morning, this is the NDIS Commission. You have to pay us $18,000. Do not pass Go, do not collect $200." - It’s going to be a long week.
Lone willy wagtail confronting a crow beneath a red flowering gum tree - representing grassroots resilience
How the Hell Did We End Up Here?
It was only five years ago that the NDIS rolled out across WA (multiply that by ten if you've had anything to do with the scheme). At the time, the idea of a platform service to deliver disability support was unheard of in WA. We knocked on every door; from not-for-profits to venture capitalists who'd make even Dutton blush, but found no takers.
So we learned to build it ourselves, coding on weekends and funding it through our own support work during the week.
The two biggest questions we faced early on were:
Do we become registered?
Do we employ or use contractors?
Seasoned business folks advised us unanimously:
“Why on earth would you employ people and choose to become regulated? That's a great way to tie your business up in red tape and taxes.”
Why We Chose Red Tape and Taxes
Bugger it, we believed in playing by the rules, even if those rules slowed us down or cost more. We thought regulation would eventually level the playing field. Yet five years in, cowboys thrive twisting the spirit of "choice and control," wihle enjoying fat margins and little accountability.
Our grassroots experience showed us the value of dignity of risk, often taken away through well-meaning but overly cautious bubble-wrapping of people with disabilities. Imagine a scorching 40-degree day at South Beach, but you can't go in the water with your support worker becuase your OT is late with their functional capacity assesment and subsequent risk assesment is incomplete.
Jessie and Carl cruising past South Beach on their adaptive tricycle, towels slung loosely around their necks, soaking in a blistering Freo afternoon.
"Participants deserve that same freedom, that dignity of risk, without feeling trapped inside some bizarre government-funded Truman Show."
We prided ourselves on ticking all the compliance boxes while providing true flexibility and control. Admittedly, we're anti-establishment at heart, yet always tried colouring within the lines to ensure the best outcomes for our participants.
Eventually, the inner rebel quiets down a bit. We thought we had it all covered (checks, insurance, training, clinical oversight), while preserving individual choice. Yet we missed something critical: sometimes participants’ choice of support worker overrode essential, specific training for certain situations. "No good deed goes unpunished," they say. But rather than becoming jaded, we strengthened our policies, accepting that we can't always say yes.
Navigating Rocks and Hard Places
The NDIS system we operate in is tough. Rigid, yet vague, simple until accusations arise, making you guilty until proven innocent. Add a workforce with diverse backgrounds and shifting participant needs, and smooth sailing becomes quite tricky.
Making Red Tape Sexy: Real Education for Real People
Support work at its heart is grassroots. Entry-level doesn't mean unskilled, some of our best staffed walked in without degrees but quickly gained valuable skills on the job. Traditional training, though, often failed us: disconnected, dull, clinical and classroom-bound.
When faced with this recent fine, we saw an opportunity. Why not tackle required training head-on, in our unique, engaging way?
Enter Humversity
Humversity is our in-app learning management and credentialing system. It provides genuinely useful, engaging, and practical training (not just compliance tick boxes), delivering real-world value for both workers and participants.
Imagine quick, scrollable lessons you can breeze through on the dunny! Think Duolingo meets TikTok meets peer-reviewed educational content.
We’ve collaborated with experts who truly understand support worker needs, creating accessible and relevant courses. Early days yet, but soon we plan to open this resource freely to the broader public, inviting global expertise on topics from personal boundaries to disability in nature itself.
Humversity app demo featuring multiple interactive screens with Duolingo-style learning pathways—engaging UX design tailored for disability support workers.
Grassroots at Its Finest
Sorry for our mess-up, we promise to keep learning and improving while standing firm on our vibrant grassroots approach.
Glancing back through the window, beneath the blazing red gum, the lone willy wagtail’s mates have arrived, forming a furious black-and-white whirlwind, chasing the crow off their patch.
Be the first in your family to break the Humversity glass cieling.
We’re not your typical support work platform. A WA-based, registered NDIS provider that goes beyond the basics to help participants not just survive, but thrive.
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