Enrique Enciso
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Making security decisions legible to a non-technical exec

Some of the work I do under Jaro isn’t building products — it’s helping small companies that grew faster than their infrastructure get their security in order. A recurring version: a firm of around forty people, no in-house IT, one person who became the de-facto systems admin by accident, and an executive who knows something needs to happen but can’t evaluate a technical proposal.

The hard part is never the technical diagnosis. The hard part is turning that diagnosis into decisions a non-technical decision-maker can actually own. This is the framework I settled on.

Two layers, two audiences

I keep the work in two separate layers, and never mix them in a meeting.

The executive seesHow I work internally
OrganizationA handful of themes in plain languageA dozen-plus technical risk vectors
Language”Payments,” “Devices,” “Messaging”Identity, MDM, EDR, backups, DNS…
PurposeMake a decisionExecute and track
FormatRisks + options + costDiagnosis + tasks + deliverables

The vectors are my tooling. The executive never sees them — they’d drown. They see three or four themes, each one a decision they’re equipped to make. Behind each theme, several technical vectors feed in; a single control often covers a risk that shows up in two different themes.

Risk in the client’s own words

The most important column in any risk table isn’t the risk — it’s how the client would phrase it. Not “unmanaged endpoints with no remote-wipe capability,” but:

“Someone loses a laptop and we can’t erase it.”

Not “lack of an offboarding process for privileged access,” but:

“Somebody leaves and can still get into everything.”

If I can’t write the risk the way the decision-maker would say it out loud, I don’t understand it well enough yet. That sentence is also what makes them care — they’re not buying a control, they’re closing a scenario that keeps them up at night.

Solutions as a stacked menu, not a wall of options

For each theme I present three solutions, and they stack — each one contains the one before it:

  • S1 — Minimal. Closes the one or two risks that are unacceptable at any price. Often costs nothing but process and discipline.
  • S2 — Recommended. Closes most of the theme with the least moving parts.
  • S3 — Complete. Closes everything, usually by adding cost or vendor complexity.

The decision-maker isn’t choosing between disconnected options — they’re choosing how far to go. Every solution carries three things: which risks it covers, how long it takes, and what it costs. So they can say either:

“Option 2 covers A and B. I can live with C being open. Going with 2.”

or

“C is the one that scares me. I’ll pay for 3.”

Both are good outcomes, because both are informed and theirs. My job is to make the trade-off legible, not to make the choice.

The coverage matrix

One small table does a disproportionate amount of work — risks across the top, solutions down the side, an ✕ where a solution closes a risk:

R1R2R3R4
S1
S2
S3

The moment an executive sees this, the abstract becomes concrete. They can see exactly what they’re accepting by choosing a cheaper tier — and “accepted risk” becomes an explicit, documented decision instead of a silent gap.

From framework to proposal

The framework above is for planning — it’s how I decide what to bring to the table. What the client actually reads is a proposal document per work-stream, and that has a different shape:

  1. How it works today — the current state in plain language, and why it’s risky.
  2. What can go wrong — the risk table.
  3. What I propose — walk each piece of the solution: the concept, who does what, the day-to-day flow, and — critically — what I left out and why.
  4. What this covers — each risk mapped to how the proposal closes it.
  5. What happens if… — the scenarios play out, showing the system handles them.
  6. Cost and dependencies — honest about what the timeline actually depends on.

A few rules I hold to on these documents:

  • A recommendation beats a menu. The S1/S2/S3 menu is a planning tool. If I already have a clear recommendation, I give it — I don’t manufacture false choice.
  • Cut redundant controls. If one control makes another unnecessary, the second one comes out. Stacked controls read as padding.
  • No fake timelines. I don’t invent week counts; I say what the timeline genuinely depends on, including third parties I don’t control.
  • No processes nobody will maintain. A logbook that won’t get filled in is worse than no logbook — it manufactures false confidence.

Cadence

The engagement runs on a weekly rhythm against a small fixed number of hours: prep one or two themes, present them in a short standing meeting, record what the decision-maker chose and which risks they explicitly accepted, then spend the rest of the week executing the vectors behind whatever got approved. Decisions live in a shared doc the client owns; the technical research and half-formed questions stay in my own notes.

Why it works

The instinct in this kind of work is to lead with the technical findings — to prove you did the diagnosis. But a list of vulnerabilities handed to someone who can’t rank them produces either paralysis or a rubber-stamp. Reframing every finding as a plain-language risk, bundling risks into stacked solutions with real costs, and making the coverage explicit turns an overwhelming technical problem into a short sequence of decisions the person paying for it can confidently make and own.

That ownership is the whole point. When the executive can say why they chose a tier and what they knowingly left open, security stops being something done to the company and becomes something the company decided.