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If you had asked me in college where I'd end up professionally, "website operations" probably wouldn't have made the list.
I studied ceramics at a fine arts college because I loved making things with my hands. And while I had an appreciation for digital art, there was something so satisfying about turning a lump of mud into something functional, something intentional. The process required patience, attention to detail, and a willingness to start over when something didn't work.
At the time, I thought I was learning how to become an artist.
Looking back, I was also learning how to solve problems.
Like a lot of art graduates, my career didn't follow the path I expected. After school, I worked in hospitality and retail, where I learned an entirely different set of skills. I discovered how much I enjoyed working with people, adapting quickly, and finding solutions in fast-paced environments. Every day was different, and every customer came with their own expectations.
Working in those fields reiterated something that art school laid the foundation for: creativity is an inherently universal tool that works in every facet of life, even if it doesn't appear that way at first glance.
Those experiences laid the path for everything that came next.
Eventually, I accepted a position with a tile distributor. Initially, my role revolved around sales and social media management, which felt like a natural combination of my creative background and customer-facing experience.
But something interesting happened. I started getting requests for other forms of media.
Instead of staying in one lane, I found myself helping with product catalogs, marketing materials, photography, email campaigns, copywriting, and eventually managing two website builds (one of them being a massive undertaking). The more responsibility I took on, the more I realized I enjoyed organizing information just as much as creating it.
Looking back, that shift surprised me. I had always considered myself a creative person. I didn't expect to become someone who genuinely enjoyed spreadsheets, workflows, and documentation.
There's a common assumption that creative work is about making things look beautiful.
Sometimes it is. But over the years, my definition of creativity has changed.
When you're responsible for hundreds of product pages, creativity isn't choosing colors or fonts. It's figuring out how to organize information so customers can actually find what they're looking for.
It's deciding how technical specifications should be displayed. It's creating naming conventions that make sense six months from now, not just today. It's finding patterns across dozens of manufacturers who all describe similar products in completely different ways.
Those problems aren't artistic in the traditional sense. But they are creative problems. And solving them requires the same kind of curiosity, experimentation, and attention to detail that good creative work always does.
After a long hiatus from my craft, I started doing ceramics again about two years ago. Creating just for myself has been deeply satisfying.
Working with clay teaches you that good results don't happen all at once. You build something gradually. You make adjustments. You refine the form. You pay attention to tiny details because they affect the finished piece.
Managing website content feels similar.
A polished website isn't the result of one big project. It's the accumulation of thousands of small decisions made consistently over time: a better product title, a clearer category structure, a more useful product layout, an easier navigation path, and so on.
Individually, those changes don't seem particularly significant. Together, they shape how people experience a website.
Somewhere along the way, I realized I wasn't just maintaining websites.
I was building systems.
As our product catalog expanded, I found myself creating workflows, documenting recurring processes, organizing content standards, and thinking about how information could be managed more efficiently.
The work became less about individual tasks and more about creating consistency. That mindset eventually led me to pursue a UI/UX certification.
I wanted to better understand how people interact with digital experiences - not just visually, but functionally. Learning about user experience gave a name to something I'd already been doing instinctively.
I wasn't just uploading content. I was helping people navigate information.
One thing I've learned is that careers rarely unfold in a straight line.
When I was throwing pottery in college, I wasn't preparing for WooCommerce product management.
When I worked in retail, I wasn't thinking about content operations.
When I started managing social media, I didn't expect to become responsible for thousands of product SKUs.
But every experience contributed something.
Art school taught me observation and craftsmanship.
Hospitality taught me adaptability and communication.
Retail taught me empathy for customers.
Marketing taught me storytelling.
Website management taught me systems thinking.
Today, all of those skills show up in the work I do.
If someone asked what I do now, I'd probably say I work at the intersection of content, design, and operations.
I still care deeply about aesthetics, but I care just as much about organization, usability, and creating digital experiences that make sense.
The path from ceramics to website operations wasn't one I planned.
It was one I discovered by saying yes to opportunities, staying curious, and being willing to learn skills that weren't originally part of my career plan.
And honestly, I wouldn't change it.
Because while my work today looks very different from the work I imagined in college, the mindset hasn't changed all that much.
I'm still making things.
They're just digital now.
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