Turning words into engagement
How becoming Willy Wonka makes me a deadlier product designer
"Brand, product, store, and voice … I built the entire CX to scale without compromise. Every element ties back to a unified system designed for clarity, speed, and emotional punch."
My UX Laboratory Disguised as a Candy Business
I needed a portable smack in the face. Something to force immediate focus when my brain wandered.
Spicy candy. Problem solved.
But here's the thing... while other designers were optimizing enterprise dashboards and debating button colors, I was becoming a one-person product empire. Boss, product manager, marketing manager, customer service rep, fulfillment coordinator. Everything.
This wasn't just a side project. This was my graduate-level education in conversion psychology.
Most designers step onto the line, following orders from an executive chef, "yes chef" and rarely get to stake their own flag on the menu with a signature dish. I was formulating recipes, designing packaging, writing copy that called subscriptions "booty calls," and watching real people spend real money on controlled pain.
Seven years later, my candy experiment has become my secret sauce for solving impossible UX problems.
Willy Wonka Meets Product Design
User research took on a whole new meaning when "testing" meant asking people to put my prototype in their mouth.
Try running a focus group on spicy candy. "Does this hurt enough? Are you motivated or just in pain? Would you buy this again?" Traditional UX research methods go out the window when your product triggers neurological responses you can't wireframe.
I was designing experiences that literally changed brain chemistry.
The packaging had to look like batteries because that's what they are... energy in portable form. Holographic finish because people needed to feel like they were buying something that could change their state. Eleven different motivational phrases targeting different use cases: truckers, gamers, athletes, anyone needing a legal performance enhancer.
The Breakthrough: I realized I wasn't selling candy. I was selling performance enhancement for people who push themselves in tough situations. "Are you tough enough for this?" became the positioning that turned controlled discomfort into fuel for burning the midnight oil.
This taught me that great products sell feelings, not features.
But the real education was in e-commerce psychology. Ship it, test new stuff, use it if it works better. Rinse and repeat. No committees, no stakeholders, no endless concept variations. Just pure conversion optimization with immediate feedback.
Every click, every cart abandonment, every reorder was data I could act on instantly.
Everything Is Connected
Magic happens when you bring ecomm thinking to insurance.
Remember that pay-a-bill flow that transformed 5.2 million policyholders' experience? The breakthrough insight came directly from my candy business: "Add to cart, edit cart." I wouldn't have spotted that e-commerce pattern if I hadn't been optimizing my own checkout flows for years.
The Connection:
Danger Snacks taught me conversion psychology with real money at stake
Every UX decision had immediate financial consequences
I learned to think like customers, not just users
Speed beats perfection when you're testing real behavior
Over 2,000 orders and 100+ five-star reviews later, this candy business had become my UX laboratory. I could test authentic voice, controversial copy, and unconventional user flows without corporate guardrails.
When I called one-time purchases "one night stands," customer reaction proved my tribe wanted personality, not polish.
The insurance team never would have let me use "Add to cart" language for bill payments. But my Danger Snacks experience proved that familiar e-commerce patterns work better than industry-specific terminology.
Being Willy Wonka made me a better product designer than any enterprise role ever could.
Why Every Designer Needs Their Own Danger Snacks
Most designers optimize other people's products with other people's money. Safe, theoretical, committee-approved decisions. But real product thinking happens when failure costs you personally.
My candy business taught me what enterprise roles never could...
How to write copy that converts real customers. How to design packaging that triggers purchasing decisions. How to optimize checkout flows based on actual behavior, not user research reports. How to move fast and test real things with real consequences.
That's my secret sauce. While other designers stay in their lane, I built my own racetrack.
Design Philosophy: The best product designers understand every aspect of the business, not just their assigned slice. If I can make people voluntarily pay for pain and love it, I can design anything.
"Brand, product, store, and voice … I built the entire CX to scale without compromise. Every element ties back to a unified system designed for clarity, speed, and emotional punch."
My UX Laboratory Disguised as a Candy Business
I needed a portable smack in the face. Something to force immediate focus when my brain wandered.
Spicy candy. Problem solved.
But here's the thing... while other designers were optimizing enterprise dashboards and debating button colors, I was becoming a one-person product empire. Boss, product manager, marketing manager, customer service rep, fulfillment coordinator. Everything.
This wasn't just a side project. This was my graduate-level education in conversion psychology.
Most designers step onto the line, following orders from an executive chef, "yes chef" and rarely get to stake their own flag on the menu with a signature dish. I was formulating recipes, designing packaging, writing copy that called subscriptions "booty calls," and watching real people spend real money on controlled pain.
Seven years later, my candy experiment has become my secret sauce for solving impossible UX problems.
Willy Wonka Meets Product Design
User research took on a whole new meaning when "testing" meant asking people to put my prototype in their mouth.
Try running a focus group on spicy candy. "Does this hurt enough? Are you motivated or just in pain? Would you buy this again?" Traditional UX research methods go out the window when your product triggers neurological responses you can't wireframe.
I was designing experiences that literally changed brain chemistry.
The packaging had to look like batteries because that's what they are... energy in portable form. Holographic finish because people needed to feel like they were buying something that could change their state. Eleven different motivational phrases targeting different use cases: truckers, gamers, athletes, anyone needing a legal performance enhancer.
The Breakthrough: I realized I wasn't selling candy. I was selling performance enhancement for people who push themselves in tough situations. "Are you tough enough for this?" became the positioning that turned controlled discomfort into fuel for burning the midnight oil.
This taught me that great products sell feelings, not features.
But the real education was in e-commerce psychology. Ship it, test new stuff, use it if it works better. Rinse and repeat. No committees, no stakeholders, no endless concept variations. Just pure conversion optimization with immediate feedback.
Every click, every cart abandonment, every reorder was data I could act on instantly.
Everything Is Connected
Magic happens when you bring ecomm thinking to insurance.
Remember that pay-a-bill flow that transformed 5.2 million policyholders' experience? The breakthrough insight came directly from my candy business: "Add to cart, edit cart." I wouldn't have spotted that e-commerce pattern if I hadn't been optimizing my own checkout flows for years.
The Connection:
Danger Snacks taught me conversion psychology with real money at stake
Every UX decision had immediate financial consequences
I learned to think like customers, not just users
Speed beats perfection when you're testing real behavior
Over 2,000 orders and 100+ five-star reviews later, this candy business had become my UX laboratory. I could test authentic voice, controversial copy, and unconventional user flows without corporate guardrails.
When I called one-time purchases "one night stands," customer reaction proved my tribe wanted personality, not polish.
The insurance team never would have let me use "Add to cart" language for bill payments. But my Danger Snacks experience proved that familiar e-commerce patterns work better than industry-specific terminology.
Being Willy Wonka made me a better product designer than any enterprise role ever could.
Why Every Designer Needs Their Own Danger Snacks
Most designers optimize other people's products with other people's money. Safe, theoretical, committee-approved decisions. But real product thinking happens when failure costs you personally.
My candy business taught me what enterprise roles never could...
How to write copy that converts real customers. How to design packaging that triggers purchasing decisions. How to optimize checkout flows based on actual behavior, not user research reports. How to move fast and test real things with real consequences.
That's my secret sauce. While other designers stay in their lane, I built my own racetrack.
Design Philosophy: The best product designers understand every aspect of the business, not just their assigned slice. If I can make people voluntarily pay for pain and love it, I can design anything.
"Brand, product, store, and voice … I built the entire CX to scale without compromise. Every element ties back to a unified system designed for clarity, speed, and emotional punch."
My UX Laboratory Disguised as a Candy Business
I needed a portable smack in the face. Something to force immediate focus when my brain wandered.
Spicy candy. Problem solved.
But here's the thing... while other designers were optimizing enterprise dashboards and debating button colors, I was becoming a one-person product empire. Boss, product manager, marketing manager, customer service rep, fulfillment coordinator. Everything.
This wasn't just a side project. This was my graduate-level education in conversion psychology.
Most designers step onto the line, following orders from an executive chef, "yes chef" and rarely get to stake their own flag on the menu with a signature dish. I was formulating recipes, designing packaging, writing copy that called subscriptions "booty calls," and watching real people spend real money on controlled pain.
Seven years later, my candy experiment has become my secret sauce for solving impossible UX problems.
Willy Wonka Meets Product Design
User research took on a whole new meaning when "testing" meant asking people to put my prototype in their mouth.
Try running a focus group on spicy candy. "Does this hurt enough? Are you motivated or just in pain? Would you buy this again?" Traditional UX research methods go out the window when your product triggers neurological responses you can't wireframe.
I was designing experiences that literally changed brain chemistry.
The packaging had to look like batteries because that's what they are... energy in portable form. Holographic finish because people needed to feel like they were buying something that could change their state. Eleven different motivational phrases targeting different use cases: truckers, gamers, athletes, anyone needing a legal performance enhancer.
The Breakthrough: I realized I wasn't selling candy. I was selling performance enhancement for people who push themselves in tough situations. "Are you tough enough for this?" became the positioning that turned controlled discomfort into fuel for burning the midnight oil.
This taught me that great products sell feelings, not features.
But the real education was in e-commerce psychology. Ship it, test new stuff, use it if it works better. Rinse and repeat. No committees, no stakeholders, no endless concept variations. Just pure conversion optimization with immediate feedback.
Every click, every cart abandonment, every reorder was data I could act on instantly.
Everything Is Connected
Magic happens when you bring ecomm thinking to insurance.
Remember that pay-a-bill flow that transformed 5.2 million policyholders' experience? The breakthrough insight came directly from my candy business: "Add to cart, edit cart." I wouldn't have spotted that e-commerce pattern if I hadn't been optimizing my own checkout flows for years.
The Connection:
Danger Snacks taught me conversion psychology with real money at stake
Every UX decision had immediate financial consequences
I learned to think like customers, not just users
Speed beats perfection when you're testing real behavior
Over 2,000 orders and 100+ five-star reviews later, this candy business had become my UX laboratory. I could test authentic voice, controversial copy, and unconventional user flows without corporate guardrails.
When I called one-time purchases "one night stands," customer reaction proved my tribe wanted personality, not polish.
The insurance team never would have let me use "Add to cart" language for bill payments. But my Danger Snacks experience proved that familiar e-commerce patterns work better than industry-specific terminology.
Being Willy Wonka made me a better product designer than any enterprise role ever could.
Why Every Designer Needs Their Own Danger Snacks
Most designers optimize other people's products with other people's money. Safe, theoretical, committee-approved decisions. But real product thinking happens when failure costs you personally.
My candy business taught me what enterprise roles never could...
How to write copy that converts real customers. How to design packaging that triggers purchasing decisions. How to optimize checkout flows based on actual behavior, not user research reports. How to move fast and test real things with real consequences.
That's my secret sauce. While other designers stay in their lane, I built my own racetrack.
Design Philosophy: The best product designers understand every aspect of the business, not just their assigned slice. If I can make people voluntarily pay for pain and love it, I can design anything.
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