The UX of a Meltdown:
Prototyping a new life at work & grad school
Alright, team. Let’s huddle up. We need to talk about the current product launch.
The product? My life. The stakeholders? My new team at Wizline, my professors, my incredibly patient partner, and my dogs, who are mostly stakeholders for treats and walks. The project brief was deceptively simple: "Simultaneously onboard into a dream UX Lead role for a major client (hello, CG!) while pursuing a master's in Innovation Development and Management. Ensure all systems remain operational, including sense of humor."
Spoiler alert: We are deep in the beta testing phase, and the user feedback is... chaotic.
This isn't my first rodeo with life pivots, but this one feels different. It’s not just a new job or a new class; it’s a fundamental rewiring of my daily operating system. And as any good innovator knows, the most fascinating part of any system is not when it works perfectly, but how it fails gracefully, and how we iterate from there.
So, in the spirit of my studies and my day job, I’ve started to frame this chaos through the only lenses I have right now: UX and Innovation Theory.
1. The Onboarding UX is Brutal (And I'm the User)
Starting a new remote impactful role is a unique UX challenge. You’re presented with a cascade of new tools: Slack channels (and Teams), Jira boards, Figma files with more layers than my emotional state. The learning curve isn't a curve; it's a sheer cliff face.
I’m the new user experiencing cognitive overload, and I’m also the UX Lead responsible for mitigating that very thing for our users. The irony is not lost on me. It’s like being a chef who’s desperately hungry but too busy cooking for everyone else to eat.
My heuristic evaluation of my own brain right now would read: “Error 404: Mental Model Not Found. Consistency and standards are severely lacking. Rec. immediate coffee and a nap.”
2. Applying Innovation Frameworks to My Grocery List
You haven’t lived until you’ve tried to apply Clayton Christensen’s "Jobs to Be Done" theory to your Wednesday evening.
The "Job": Don't let the household descend into feral chaos.
The "Solution": A "disruptive innovation" in the form of ordering rostisserie chicken and calling it "nutrient acquisition innovation." It’s not lazy; it’s a pivot! We’re achieving the job-to-be-done more efficiently than the "cooking from scratch" incumbent product. See? My degree is already paying off.
My personal life is now a series of minimum viable products (MVPs). A 10-minute catch-up with a friend? That’s the MVP for maintaining social bonds. A walk around the block? That’s the MVP for fitness. It’s scrappy, it’s iterative, and it’s somehow working.
3. Context Switching is the Real Final Boss
The true challenge, the big boss at the end of the level, isn't the work or the studies individually. It’s the constant, brutal context switching.
My brain in any given hour:
7:00 a.m.: Deeply considering the nuanced ethical implications of AI in financial data visualization.
7:30 a.m.: “Why is the Wi-Fi down?!” (Shakes fist at sky)
10:00 a.m.: Strategizing on user research methodologies for a multi-million dollar product.
10:15 a.m.: Strategizing on how to convince my dog that the deliveryman is not, in fact, a demonic entity.
It’s exhausting. It’s like having 50 browser tabs open all at once, and one of them is definitely playing autoplay video ads.
The Prototype for Survival (So Far)
So, what’s the design solution? What’s the innovation strategy for a human life?
Embrace the "First Pancake" Principle: The first pancake is always a weird, messy prototype. You don't throw the pan away; you learn and make a better one. I’m giving myself permission to be the first pancake. Some days will be messy and poorly formed. That's part of the process.
Time-Blocking is my information architecture: I’m architecting my weeks like I’d architect a complex product or website. Grad school content goes in this mental container. Deep work for work goes in this one. Personal time is a sacred, non-negotiable component. The navigation must be clear, or the whole experience falls apart.
Find the Synergies: This is the best part. My master’s program is no longer abstract; it’s a live case study. Theories on managing innovation? I’m applying them in real-time to my new team. Concepts from my UX work? I’m writing papers about them. They’re no longer two separate worlds; they’re in a constant, messy, and incredibly productive dialogue.
It’s not about balance. That implies a steady, calm equilibrium. I’m not a tightrope walker; I’m a juggler on a unicycle, and the wheels are on fire. But you know what? It’s kind of fun. The chaos is where the innovation happens. It's where we learn what we're really made of.
Now, if you'll excuse me, one of my stakeholders (one with four legs) is demanding a user test of the new "noon walk" feature.
Natalia xo
