Where are you going?
The lake house. Grandma’s for Thanksgiving. The winter cabin, the family home you grew up in. Anytime you move between places, something has to be in the car — and Bring Buy Get files it under the place it belongs to.
Pick a destination and you get the slip: load the car above the tear line, buy there and take home below it. Costco is just another place you return to.
In the car before you leave.
Bring is the verb this app was built around: the thing that has to make the car. The casserole dish going back to your mother. The returns that have ridden in the trunk for a week. The drill the lake house has been waiting on since June. The slip prints them above the tear line — load the car — because a bring errand is worthless once you’ve arrived without it.
File it the moment you think of it, from the couch, months early. It waits on the right slip until the day you actually drive.
Every place you return to keeps its own slip.
A vacation home means a second list of everything. Grandma’s collects the pie carrier and the photos you promised to print. The family home you grew up in has been waiting a year for the hand-me-downs box in your hall. Homes, cabins, in-laws, work, stores — if you return to it, it’s a place, and its errands wait on its slip.
And work counts double, because you go every day. The borrowed book and the birthday card for a desk mate ride in on the morning slip; a set-time nudge — leaving work at 4:30 — catches the gym bag and the leftovers in the office fridge before you’re on the freeway without them.
Three verbs. Every errand is one of them.
Not a list of nouns — a verb, aimed at a place. And the split shapes every screen: bring is departure-side, buy and get are arrival-side. That’s why bring sits above the tear line and the other two below it.
The app opens on the question. Destinations rank by how much is waiting at each one, with the distance to the nearest pin.
In the car before you leave. The returns, the pie carrier, the broken hinge to match.
Purchase it while you’re there. Paper towels, coffee beans, the thing you always forget.
Pick it up, take it home. The photo order at the counter, the good knife that lives at home.
Walk in. The app already knows.
Cross the parking lot and the notification names what you’re there for — “Buy: paper towels, coffee beans — Brought? the returns.” The whole app recolors to the place while you stand in it, and a crooked rubber stamp lands on the screen.
The “Brought?” tag reckons with the departure side: tick what made the car. The rest waits for next time, no shame attached.
Drive off with an open get errand and the app taps you on the shoulder before you’re out of the lot. Standing every-visit errands — the reusable bags, the reading glasses — check off for this trip and put themselves back on the list when you leave.
The arrival stamp
Bought at Costco. Bound for Big Bear.
Half of what you buy in town is for somewhere else — the water filters, the door hinge, the good coffee that never makes it up the mountain. So aim the buy at Costco for Big Bear: check it off in the warehouse and it lands on the cabin’s slip, above the tear line, waiting for the next drive up.
One intention, two places, nothing re-typed. The cabin’s list quietly collects all season.
Water filters ×2
Big Bear
One Costco. Five geofences.
A place is an idea, not an address. Your “Costco” can carry every warehouse you rotate between — one slip, one list, many pins — and walking into any of them counts as arriving.
Pick a chain from the catalog and the app finds the branches near you on Apple Maps. Tick the ones that are yours; they all become pins on the same place.
Twenty chains plus Amazon, each dressed in its own hue with a monogram. No retailer logos — just ink and color, the same way the app treats everything else.
Found it somewhere? It files itself.
Share a product from any store’s app or site and it lands on the right list — a samsclub.com link knows it belongs to Sam’s Club, even if you never added the store. The app reads the page, names the errand, and keeps the photo.
Or copy any product link and press Paste on the Wanted board. Same result: filed, named, pictured.
Wanted is the hunt in one view — every open errand with a link or a photo, across every store. Found it cheaper at Sam’s? Swipe it onto the other slip.
One board for the whole household.
Bring Buy Get syncs through iCloud — nothing to sign up for, no account but the one your phone already has. Share once with your household and every place, pin, and errand lives on both phones.
Each phone gets its own arrival ping: whoever walks into Costco first sees the list. The other one watches it shrink from the couch.
Your lists live in your iCloud.
Not on our servers — we don’t have any. There is no account to create and no backend of ours behind the app: everything you write down syncs between your devices through Apple’s CloudKit, inside the iCloud account your phone already has.
Every place, pin and errand is stored on your iPhone and iPad first. The app works in a dead-zone parking garage.
Sync and the household share run through your own iCloud account. Sharing goes member to member; nothing detours through us.
No analytics, no ads, no tracking. We can’t read your lists — there’s nothing of yours on our side to lose or sell.
And a board for the kitchen counter.
On iPad the household’s whole backlog is the first tab: every open errand, grouped by place, two columns, tick-off in place. Prop it on the counter and “anything for Costco?” answers itself.
