Principal Content Designer. As the first content designer at UiPath, I built the discipline from the ground up — auditing the platform, mapping the customer journey, and leading the work to give a sprawling automation cloud one coherent language.
UiPath's Automation Cloud had grown fast — through acquisition, new product lines, and back-to-back launches. The same idea might be called an automation, a process, a workflow, or a solution depending on where you stood. I was brought in as the company's first content designer to build the practice — and use it to make the platform legible.
Automation Cloud was deep and capable, but its language had never been designed. Terminology drifted between teams, navigation had accreted rather than been planned, and new features arrived with whatever words their squad happened to choose.
There was no content design function to push back. My first job was to make the problem visible — and to build a practice that could fix it for good.
I ran a comprehensive audit of Automation Cloud — every navigation item, header, empty state, and supporting doc — tagging terminology, voice, and IA gaps as I went.
The audit turned a vague sense of "things feel inconsistent" into a concrete, prioritized map of opportunity. It became the reference everyone pointed to when deciding what to tackle first, and it gave content design its first seat at the planning table.
To move the team from symptoms to causes, I created the platform's first customer journey map — then modeled the system itself.
I defined the core objects users actually work with — the nouns of the product — along with their attributes and the actions taken on them. This object model became the backbone for naming: if we could agree on what a thing was, we could agree on what to call it.
With shared evidence and a shared model, the team could finally act. I led or partnered on a connected set of initiatives, each drawing from the same vocabulary:
A rebuilt left-hand navigation that mirrored how users actually move through the product. A clearer global header. And a refreshed iconography set so visual language and verbal language finally agreed.
Across the product, overlapping words competed for the same meaning. Users couldn't predict what a button would do, support couldn't speak the same language as the UI, and every new feature deepened the confusion.
I traced the inconsistency to its source — even the documentation defined Process, Library, Template, and Test Automation with the same verb: "Design." The words had never been governed.
I led the creation of a shared terminology system: a single canonical name for every core object, plain-language definitions, decision rules for when to use each term, and governance so the language would hold as the platform kept growing.
Then I pressure-tested it where users actually meet language — the menus, the navigation, the moment of creating something new — iterating the naming until each choice was unambiguous.
A canonical name for every core object, with definitions and usage rules teams could actually look up.
Navigation, global header, menus, and docs began drawing from the same dictionary instead of inventing terms.
Governance and a shared object model gave every future feature a place to find the right word — not coin a new one.
Words are part of the interface, not a coat of paint applied at the end. The right name can do the work of an entire screen.
A shared vocabulary is the foundation of a coherent product. Agree on what something is, and the rest of the design gets easier.
I map the whole system before changing a single string — so fixes solve causes, not symptoms, and survive the next release.
Distill complexity to its simplest form — then build the governance and frameworks that keep it clear as the product grows.