I'm Abhishek, a Senior Product Designer at MathCo with four years across pharma, data analytics, automotive, and FMCG. Right now I lead design for MathCo's Pharma and Life Sciences accounts, turning complex data and regulatory constraints into something a user can actually act on. I like products where the data is messy and a wrong screen has real consequences, whatever industry they come from.
A legislative argument tool for a Global Biopharma Company's government affairs team, designed in React on Snowflake across five directions in a six week engagement. The shipped prototype was selected for a Snowflake Summit showcase and modeled to mitigate $1 to 3 million in annual compliance risk.
A Global Biopharma Company, government affairs
An automated vendor-data pipeline for a European Pharma Company's oncology PMR program, replacing manual SharePoint submissions across seven-plus vendors and seven brands with validated automation. Modeled to save $200,000 to $500,000 a year in operational efficiency.
A European Pharma Company, oncology operations
The shelf planning and audit tool that a Global Consumer Foods Company's category teams use, recovered from low adoption and an escalated account. I set the six phase recovery plan, led research and strategy, and redesigned every core screen. In a 14 person pilot, weekly use rose from 5 to 13 users and the weekly retailer audit fell from 38 to 11 minutes.
A Global Consumer Foods Company, category management
An independent framework for evaluating conversational interfaces: five domains, fourteen axes, forty-two criteria, scored Optimal, Developing, or Critical. I used it to audit a ServiceNow Request Assistant prototype, and it's the tool I now run everything else against.
Independent research
I like the projects nobody wants to demo.
The ones with a hundred edge cases and a compliance team watching. As POD owner for MathCo's Pharma and Life Sciences accounts, I spend as much time on how the team works as I do on screens: I built a leadership cadence framework and a risk mitigation playbook after diagnosing twenty structural issues across the account. Before MathCo, I worked UX consulting at Capgemini across automotive, transport, and consumer goods clients, so pharma isn't the only register I know, just the one I'm in now. I'm increasingly interested in the business side of these decisions, and lately that curiosity has extended to conversational and agentic AI interfaces too.
Have a complicated project? Let’s talk.
uxplorer.abhishek@gmail.comWhy the existing evaluation toolkit for conversational AI is built on the wrong foundation, and what a domain-specific replacement looks like.
I had been evaluating AI chatbots using Nielsen's 10 Usability Heuristics. Not because I thought they were the right tool, but because they were the available tool. After my third audit on a data-centric GenAI product, I stopped pretending the heuristics were working.
Nielsen's principles were codified in 1994 for visual, form-based interfaces. They are built around the assumption that the product's interaction surface is a screen: that users navigate through menus, read labels, fill in forms. None of that maps to a conversational interface. When a user types a query to an AI assistant, there are no menus, no navigation paths, no visible affordances. The design surface is entirely in how the system responds to language.
So when I tried to evaluate whether a data chatbot was working, whether it understood what users were actually asking, whether it handled ambiguity gracefully, whether the data it returned was trustworthy, I was reaching for concepts the heuristics don't have words for. "Visibility of system status" does not help you evaluate hallucination risk. "Consistency and standards" does not address context amnesia. "Error prevention" does not tell you anything about what happens when a user asks an LLM a question that is outside its data scope.
The heuristics were not wrong. They just weren't written for this. I needed something that was.
The secondary pressure came from the kinds of products I was working with. Data chatbots and GenAI assistants have a failure mode that visual products don't: they can be fluent, polished, and factually wrong simultaneously. A well-designed button doesn't fabricate data. A well-designed LLM response might. Evaluating these products without a framework specifically designed for that class of risk felt increasingly irresponsible.
That was the origin of AXIS. Not a desire to build a framework, frameworks are means, not ends, but a specific professional need that existing tools couldn't fill.
There are three categories of existing evaluation frameworks, and all three fail for the same underlying reason: they were designed for interfaces where the user navigates toward information through deliberate visual steps. Conversational interfaces reverse that: the user asks for information, and the system has to navigate toward an answer through language.
The gap is not that Nielsen's heuristics are bad. The gap is that the product category has changed more than the evaluation toolkit has. The enterprise AI assistant of 2026 shares almost nothing with the form-based web application of 1994, except that we are still evaluating it with the same checklist.
There are newer frameworks, conversational design guidelines from Google, Amazon, and Microsoft, but these tend to be prescriptive rather than evaluative. They tell you how to write good conversation flows, not how to determine whether what you shipped actually works. AXIS is evaluative by design: it does not tell you what to build, only whether what you built is doing its job.
AXIS is organised into five domains, each corresponding to a distinct failure category in conversational AI products. The domains are not arbitrary. They were derived from recurring failure patterns observed across audits of data chatbots, GenAI assistants, and task automation interfaces.
| Domain | Axes | What it evaluates | Failure mode addressed |
|---|---|---|---|
| Comprehension | AX·01 – AX·03 | Whether the system understands what users mean, not just what they typed | Intent mismatch, false expectations, keyword-only matching |
| Dialogue Architecture | AX·04 – AX·06 | Whether conversations flow toward goals without accumulating friction | Turn debt, context drops, over-verbose responses |
| Data & Intelligence | AX·07 – AX·08 | Whether outputs are accurate, sourced, and honest about uncertainty | Hallucination, silent data gaps, opaque AI nature |
| System Integrity | AX·09 – AX·11 | Whether the system holds together under failure, edge cases, and extended use | Graceless failures, persona inconsistency, flat compounding value |
| Outcomes | AX·12 – AX·14 | Whether the system actually produces durable, differentiated value | Task incompleteness, dependency risk, no defensible moat |
Each axis contains three to four evaluation criteria, each scored on a tri-state scale: Optimal (1.0), Developing (0.5), or Critical (0.0). The tri-state is deliberate. Binary scoring creates false precision, while a five-point scale creates false granularity. In heuristic evaluation, the useful question is almost always "is this working, almost working, or not working?" The tri-state answers exactly that.
The axis names are deliberately non-generic. "The Listening Problem," "Ground Truth," "The Graceful Fall": these names carry meaning about what each axis is actually evaluating, and they are calibrated to be memorable to evaluators and legible to product teams who weren't trained in UX. A framework that only researchers can use is not operational.
The first full AXIS audit was run against a prototype of a ServiceNow Request Assistant, an AI-powered chatbot designed to help enterprise employees raise IT and HR service requests without navigating the ServiceNow interface directly. The assistant could theoretically handle request creation, status checks, category routing, and escalation, but the prototype had not been formally evaluated.
The audit used AXIS across all five domains, running structured test scenarios across each axis's criteria. The findings were not a surprise in type. Most of them were what you'd expect from a first prototype, but the framework surfaced them in a way that the standard "just use it and see" testing approach had not.
The audit identified findings across eleven of the fourteen axes. Key findings were concentrated in three areas.
The AXIS audit produced a prioritised finding report structured around criticality tiers: Critical findings blocking launch, Developing findings requiring iteration before GA, and Optimal areas to preserve. This structure is deliberate: it converts evaluation output directly into a sprint backlog, without requiring the product team to interpret severity themselves.
The three critical findings were addressed before the prototype was presented to stakeholders. The scope overstatement was corrected through revised onboarding copy and a visible capability manifest in the opening message. Data synchronisation was flagged to the engineering team as a real-time API integration requirement, not a UX fix. The context reset issue was resolved by implementing session state persistence.
The developing findings were incorporated into the next sprint. The over-explanation issue was addressed at the system prompt level with explicit length constraints and format directives. Domain vocabulary gaps were partially resolved through a terminology mapping exercise: a list of common internal request names was added to the training context.
More important than the fixes themselves: the AXIS framework gave the product team a shared language. Conversations that had previously been vague ("the responses feel off" / "users seem confused at the start") became specific ("we have a Cold Start problem, the first-turn success rate is 78%, threshold is 85%"). Evaluators and engineers were reasoning about the same criteria, in the same terms.
That shared language is the non-obvious value of a structured evaluation framework. The findings are useful once. The vocabulary is useful forever.
AXIS is not an attempt to replace Nielsen's 10 Heuristics. Those heuristics remain useful for evaluating visual, form-based interfaces, which most enterprise products still contain, alongside their conversational layers. The frameworks are complementary, not competitive.
AXIS is specifically for the conversational surface: the layer of the product where users speak in natural language and the system responds. That layer has grown from a novelty to the primary interface for a significant and rapidly expanding category of enterprise software, and it deserves evaluation criteria that were written for it.
It is also not finished. Every framework is a hypothesis, and AXIS is no different. The axes are grounded in observed failure patterns, Gricean principles of cooperative communication, speech act theory, and domain-specific research on data veracity and AI transparency, but they will be refined by what future audits surface. The ServiceNow audit was the first test. It will not be the last.
AXIS is designed to be used across four contexts: heuristic evaluation (structured expert review), usability testing facilitation (as a scoring rubric during moderated sessions), design QA during build (as a checklist at milestone reviews), and designer onboarding (as a conceptual foundation for practitioners new to conversational product design). Each context uses the same axes and criteria: the application changes, the framework does not.
The full interactive framework is available on the next tab. Every axis, all criteria, the tri-state scoring system, and the evaluation method tags are documented there in full.
A government affairs team had billions in policy data and no way to make it legible to a legislator. My job was to turn a reporting tool into something a non-analyst could pick up and argue with, confidently, in the room.
A government affairs team had an internal Power BI tool with near-zero adoption. They needed a way to turn program data into a case they could make in front of legislators, on a six-week timeline, with a high-visibility industry showcase on the other end of it.
I ran the project solo, end to end: domain research, two user interviews, five concept directions, a structural reframe from "report" to "argument," and a React-friendly hi-fi prototype.
A transparency dashboard that scales from a national view to a single entity, with one consistent layout a user never has to relearn under pressure.
A reporting tool with near-zero adoption became something that framed every figure as a point someone could make, and was selected for a flagship industry showcase.
The brief itself was simple: build a dashboard for the government affairs team to view 340B data and act on it. What I found underneath it were four separate expectations, from four different people, that didn't all point the same direction.
I was the only designer on this, so in week one I wrote those four expectations down and treated them as the real brief. Speed set the timeline. Usability set the structure. The approvers set how legible the prototype had to be to someone seeing it cold. The point of view had to be mine to bring.
Not a redesign of a reporting tool. A way for a non-analyst to walk into a legislative hearing and speak with authority, using data they hadn't had time to study in advance.
I designed a transparency dashboard for a government affairs team who present 340B policy cases to legislators. The previous tool gave them data; what they needed was a way to walk into a hearing and make a point. I owned the work end to end.
I structured the whole dashboard around the questions a legislator actually asks, in the order they ask them: how much has grown, who benefits, how the money moves. Each section leads with a plain-language question and answers it with one unmissable number.
I argued, and the client accepted, that the existing tool's problem was missing interpretation, not missing features. That single reframe decided almost everything that followed.
Showing five directions instead of one meant the client was choosing, not reviewing. That changed the dynamic of every conversation after it.
I went to hi-fi early and stayed there, so every round of feedback landed on something real rather than a placeholder. On a six-week clock, that discipline bought back whole days.
"I think this is great. I will be able to use this way better than what we have."
Analyst · Primary end user"I think this is what we needed from the beginning. Now that I have this, I will actually be able to make a strong case in front of the legislators."
Primary stakeholder · Government affairsThe measure wasn't whether the prototype looked good. It was whether someone could open it cold, in front of a legislator, and immediately speak with authority. That was the brief I set for myself, and the one the design was built to answer.
The full story covers the six-week process, how I navigated a stakeholder who'd already built his own version, and what I'd do differently.
Everything above was the short version. Here's the detail behind it: the brief in full, how the six weeks actually unfolded, the stakeholder dynamic I navigated, the decisions I'd defend, and what I'd do differently.
The brief itself was simple: build a dashboard for the government affairs team to view 340B data and act on it. What I found underneath it were four separate expectations, from four different people, that didn't all point the same direction.
The client lead wanted speed, and a prototype that would hold up in front of a flagship industry showcase. The end users wanted to stop manually translating raw numbers into arguments. The people who'd ultimately approve the work weren't the people who'd use it day to day, and they'd judge it in a short walkthrough, not a working session. My design manager expected a point of view, not a menu of neutral options.
I was the only designer on this, so in week one I wrote those four expectations down and treated them as the real brief. Speed set the timeline. Usability set the structure. The approvers set how legible the prototype had to be to someone seeing it cold. The point of view had to be mine to bring.
An internal Power BI tool that technically worked but that almost nobody opened. The data was there. Nothing in it told a user what to do with it, or helped them build a case out of it.
Not a redesign of a reporting tool. A way for a non-analyst to walk into a legislative hearing and speak with authority, using data they hadn't had time to study in advance.
I designed a transparency dashboard for a government affairs team who present 340B policy cases to legislators. The previous tool gave them data; what they needed was a way to walk into a hearing and make a point. I owned the work end to end: research, the structural reframe, five concept directions, the iterations, and the final hi-fi prototype.
I kept the layout identical when a user drills into a state; only the data changes. Someone mid-presentation can move from national to local without ever relearning where things are. Predictability was a deliberate design goal, not an accident.
For a single hospital, I mapped its parent-child pharmacy network against neighbourhood income and underserved-area overlays. It turns an abstract compliance point into something a person can see and immediately understand, the hardest insight made the most visual.
Four things mattered more here than screen-level craft, and each one shaped how the project went.
I learned the 340B program well enough to talk about it with the client without a translator in the room. That fluency is what made pushback possible later; you can't credibly argue to reframe a brief in a domain you don't understand.
I argued, and the client accepted, that the existing tool's problem was missing interpretation, not missing features. That single reframe decided almost everything that followed.
Showing five directions instead of one meant the client was choosing, not reviewing. That changed the dynamic of every conversation after it.
I went to hi-fi early and stayed there, so every round of feedback landed on something real rather than a placeholder. On a six-week clock, that discipline bought back whole days.
The value I added wasn't executing a brief, it was reframing it. Here's how the six weeks actually unfolded, and the calls I made along the way.
I started with a knowledge-transfer session, then went deep on the policy landscape myself: how the program works, who benefits, why it's contested. Two interviews with users of the existing tool surfaced the real issue: they had data but no meaning, doing in their heads the interpretive work the tool should have handled. I used those two weeks to turn that insight into five structurally distinct concept directions and bring all five to the client at once, rather than arriving with one answer to defend.
We narrowed the five directions down to two with the client, and I built wireframes for both so stakeholders could react to structure before any visual polish existed to distract them. The two survivors were a progressive, scroll-based reveal and a time-anchored briefing format; the final design is a synthesis of both, which is covered in the stakeholder section below.
This is where the design moved from analyst tool toward advocacy tool. Each round of feedback, I cut density, enlarged the single takeaway per section, and pushed the narrative framing harder. The transparency angle that ended up anchoring the whole dashboard wasn't in my original brief; it emerged through iteration, and I treated deciding what to remove as the real design work of these two weeks.
The final week went to edge states, consistency passes across every scope, and getting the prototype ready to be presented cold. I knew the client would use this prototype himself to win sign-off from his own stakeholders, so I built the interaction to be legible to someone who'd never seen a single round of our design process.
The brief said "replace the tool." My research said the tool was never the problem; data had been dropped into an interface with no design thinking about what it meant. I made the case to the client that the real job was building an argument, not a report. That redefinition was the most valuable thing I contributed.
Showing five concepts on a tight timeline felt risky going in. I did it anyway, because converging with the client beats presenting to them; when stakeholders pushed back later, the client could say "I chose this." I designed the process to protect the project politically, not just the pixels.
Room to refine, not just deliver. I used the extra time to move the design from an analyst tool toward an advocacy tool, which is the difference between showing someone data and handing them a case they can actually make.
Distinct directions, shown side by side.
Chosen with the client, taken to wireframes.
Transparency framing becomes the spine.
Cut density, enlarge takeaways, sharpen story.
Prototype, stakeholder-approved.
One stakeholder on the client side had already built his own version of the dashboard and had strong views on how this one should be produced. I read that as a reasonable position from someone who'd owned the problem before I arrived, not as resistance to work around.
I did three things. I treated his existing version as input to the five-approach review, so his thinking sat next to mine on the table rather than in competition with it. I put hand-built wireframes in front of stakeholders first, so the structural reasoning was visible and attributable before any visual polish could distract from it. And I agreed the production workflow with him explicitly, up front, rather than assuming it: wireframes, an accelerated visual pass to get a feel for direction fast, then a full rebuild in proper, componentised Figma so the final artefact was actually designed, not just assembled.
That last point is worth being direct about. Part of the accelerated middle pass used AI-assisted tooling to get from wireframe to a visual feel quickly, which is the kind of workflow a senior design process has to be able to negotiate openly with a client rather than hide. The final design that shipped was fully rebuilt in Figma by hand, properly structured and componentised for engineering handoff.
By the end, he was choosing between two directions we'd both shaped, rather than defending the one he'd arrived with. That shift, from defending to choosing, is the outcome I was aiming for.
I didn't treat his existing build as a problem to route around quietly. Dismissing it would have cost me his trust and, more practically, the context he had that I didn't.
Figma wireframes, an accelerated AI-assisted visual pass for early direction, then a full handbuilt rebuild in Figma for the final, componentised design.
This is also the piece of the project I'd structure differently with more time. It's covered properly under reflection, below.
We settled on what the actual problem was before debating any solution to it. Most of the later speed came from not re-litigating that.
Showing five directions up front gave the client ownership of the outcome, not just approval over mine.
A user never had to relearn the interface under pressure, which mattered more here than almost any other decision.
Nobody on the client side was ever surprised by a direction, because they'd seen it building in smaller steps.
I built for the people approving the work, not just the people using it day to day, which is why the prototype held up in a cold walkthrough.
A senior designer is defined less by what they make than by the calls they make, and what each one cost. These are the ones that shaped this project.
The user isn't quietly at a desk; they're often presenting, fielding questions they didn't expect. I designed every hierarchy and density decision around that reality. The cost: entity-level views couldn't be as tailored as they might have been with more screen-specific design. I accepted that trade for consistency, below.
I gave each section one oversized takeaway and let the detail sit beneath it. People remember the headline, not the footnote. The cost was some nuance in the first read, which I pushed into the supporting detail rather than cutting; nothing was hidden, just sequenced.
The most important argument was also the least intuitive as a number. So I made it a map: clustered sites, a visible radius, neighbourhood overlays. Spending disproportionate visual weight on the single hardest insight meant other sections stayed intentionally plainer by comparison.
I could have designed each view bespoke. Instead I reused one structure everywhere, because consistency served the user better than variety would have. The cost was the tailoring mentioned in decision one; I judged it a fair trade for a user who never has to relearn anything under pressure.
Reading what the client actually needed, not just what he asked for, and designing a process that gave him ownership and political cover was as much a part of the work as the screens. The deliverable wasn't only a prototype; it was a client who felt confident defending it to people above him.
Before, the team had a reporting tool with near-zero adoption, data without meaning. After, they had something that framed every figure as a point they could make, scaled from national to a single entity in seconds, and made the hardest argument visible at a glance. The work was selected for a flagship industry showcase, a signal it had value beyond the immediate client.
Senior work includes being honest about its own limits. Four things I'd change if I ran this again.
Two user conversations were enough to find the reframe, but I'd want four or five before committing to the final structure, plus a short usability pass on the prototype itself before calling it done.
The testimonials are strong, but I can't point to adoption numbers against the old tool's near-zero baseline. I'd set that measurement up at the start next time, not after.
I managed that dynamic well once it was underway, but I'd pull him into a working session in week one rather than week three, so he became a co-author sooner rather than someone I had to bring along.
A tool built to make an argument sits close to a tool that should stay strictly neutral. I only fully saw this late. Next time I'd build in clear source and methodology notes from the start, so persuasive framing never gets ahead of what the data actually supports.
Senior Product Designer with 4+ years building enterprise platforms across pharma, data analytics, automotive, and FMCG. Leads design strategy and delivery for MathCo’s Pharma and Life-Sciences accounts, translating complex data and regulatory constraints into user-centered product outcomes for US-based clients. Combines research-driven design with a commercial lens, with an active interest in conversational and agentic AI interfaces.
One career, drawn to scale
I wanted to build buildings. I ended up building products instead, and then, slowly, the businesses around them. Here's the floor plan: five rooms, roughly in order, from a design-school crit room to wherever this goes next.
Unitedworld Institute of Design
B.Des, Product Design
2018–2022
Back in 2018, the plan was architecture. I'd spent the back half of school sketching floor plans more than anything else, and “architect” was the easy answer whenever anyone asked what I wanted to be. Then I actually looked into product design (smaller scale, faster iteration, objects you could hold instead of buildings you'd wait years to see finished), and it pulled harder than I expected. I switched tracks before I'd properly started and spent the next four years at Unitedworld Institute of Design finding out whether that instinct was right.
I wanted to build buildings. Product design just moved faster.
It mostly was. Studio crits, shop time with angle grinders and vices, exhibition booths built the week before a deadline. The work was smaller than architecture, but fast enough that I could watch an idea fail and rebuild it myself, by hand, before I'd fully convinced myself it was good. That's the habit the next eight years ran on.
Capgemini
Associate Consultant, UX
Jul 2022–Apr 2025
College hadn't prepared me for what “corporate” actually looked like. Across automotive, transport, and consumer-goods accounts (a leading automotive manufacturer, a global rail transport company, a global consumer goods company, an automotive R&D centre), I learned the parts no studio crit teaches: how to work cross-functionally with people who don't share your vocabulary, and how much of “design” is actually translation, between what a client needs and what an engineering team can ship on time.
Design was worth nothing if it didn't move a business metric.
The realization that actually changed how I work didn't arrive in one dramatic project. It built up slowly: I could contribute to the business side of a decision, not just the interface for it. By the end of my time there, I was working directly with my Senior Director on initiatives aimed at customer acquisition, not mocking up screens for someone else's strategy but helping shape the strategy itself. That's the shift that decided what I wanted to do next.
What stuck
MathCo
Product Designer → Senior
Apr 2025–Present
I moved to MathCo wanting to find out what ownership actually feels like. Capgemini had given me scale (big accounts, big stakeholders, big consequences), but always inside someone else's structure. I wanted a smaller team, a shorter distance between a decision and its outcome, and a chance to point everything that scale had taught me at helping a smaller company grow, instead of just executing inside a large one.
That's largely what happened. I became POD owner for MathCo's Pharma and Life Sciences accounts, built a leadership cadence framework and a risk-mitigation playbook after diagnosing twenty structural issues across the team, and was promoted to Senior Product Designer along the way.
Design, usually the smallest wing in the building, could carry real weight.
But the part I'm actually proud of isn't the title. It's that design, usually a small wing in most companies, could bring in a serious amount of business value when someone treated it that way. I got to be the one proving it.
What stuck
Bangalore
Right now
A few years in, I'd call it a working practice rather than a finished one: design fundamentals I trust, consulting instincts from enough rooms full of stakeholders, a habit of mentoring that's taught me as much as it's taught anyone I've worked with, and enough exposure to the business side that I don't wait around for a brief before I start thinking about it.
I'd rather help shape the brief than just fill it.
What I'm looking for next is work that asks for all of that together: design judgment, business instinct, and a willingness to walk into a messy situation and help a team, not just a screen, find its way through.
Currently running on
Next on the drawing board
What's next is more ownership, not less: the kind of scope a design manager role carries, setting direction and mentoring a team rather than just executing inside one. I'm also increasingly drawn to conversational and agentic AI interfaces, a genuinely different design problem worth learning properly. And further out, I'd like to build something of my own at the intersection of tech and design, the same instinct that's shaped every move since 2018, just aimed at a bigger canvas.
Everything since 2018 has been pointing there, a little more directly each time.
Take on broader scope and mentoring, the systems-thinking a design manager role needs: fewer handoffs, more accountability for outcomes.
Go deeper on conversational and agentic AI design, a genuinely different problem worth learning properly.
Eventually, build at the intersection of tech and design, on my own terms.
Still drawing. Still to scale.
uxplorer.abhishek@gmail.com