Let's Be Builders!
We are back in the land of Legos, but this time, as adults

Note to readers: I write primarily in three areas—fiction, culture, and personal narrative. I try to write a piece a week in each lane, if the world cooperates. Last week, the world gave me a gift, courtesy of Amazon, in the area of “culture.”
Now, please read on.
Sometimes, it’s the smallest things that make us laugh. I recently saw this headline:
Amazon stripping hundreds of employees’ job titles — and new buzzword is rattling workforce
What followed was curiosity, followed by relief, followed by laughter. I was relieved to know that “stripping” did not have buried in its story another MeToo moment by another bad boy.
Nope, instead it was about the stripping of job titles at Amazon and replacing them with something completely nonsensical — something so simple and devoid of meaning as to almost make sense — something that only the Online Deity of Our Universe could get away with.
Seeing the new title, I was transported back to the Bible, not because it was Amazon, the God of Online Shopping at the helm, but because its new title was the biblical version of “manna” — the food from heaven that was given to the wandering Jews in the wilderness that could taste like anything a person imagined.
Here, we had a job title that was whatever we imagined. A one-size-fits-all miracle. The title?
“Builder”
As I warmed up to this title (which I never really warmed up to), I imagined the following conversation between a father and his young son:
“So Johnny, do you know what you want to be when you grow up?”
“Yep. I’m good with Legos, so I want to be a builder.”
“Son, playing with Legos is one thing. Having a job is another. I don’t think there is a job to be had where you will be building with Legos.”
Now is when Dad gets educated.
“Dad, I think you’re wrong. I just found out that Amazon is calling all its employees ‘builders.’ Whatever titles they once were are now gone.”
Naturally, Dad is skeptical, so he takes out his phone to see if Siri can shed some light on what he is sure is his son’s mistake. Siri backs up his son’s assertion that “builder” is in, while explaining that Amazon will still have bosses.
Their title? “Builder leads.”
Now, Dad is quiet and stumped.
How did his 12-year-old get wind of something he is just learning about? Easy: TikTok
Now, Dad wonders what he should do with this information.
No worry here because the son, Johnny, knows exactly what should be done:
“Dad, since I want to be a builder, can we maybe get a subscription package on Amazon for Legos — maybe one per month. You will be preparing me for my future. It’s not just about fun. I think you and I can agree it will be money well spent.”
Dad finds this clever, and he wants to say yes. After all, his son has just reasoned that an endless supply of Legos will prepare him well for his chosen career path. But just before saying yes, Dad has a question:
“But son, what if they get rid of the builder job title? I mean, you’re only twelve!”
“Dad, Amazon will have given me a really good idea, and if they don’t continue with this really good idea, I will take it and make it mine. It’s called a ‘power grab.’ I think you’ve heard those words before. I will create my own ‘build company’ and, by then, I will be an experienced builder.”
Now, Dad is smiling.
“And Dad, I will create a special title for you. You can be the guy who gets me the money to help make my idea—or maybe it was Amazon’s idea—happen.”
“Really?” asks Dad, now very curious and a tad amused.
“Yep. How does “Cap-Man” sound? You will get credit for providing the capital — isn’t that what you call it? — and I will put those dollars to good use.”
Now, Dad is wondering how to share this idea with Mom. Mom is a traditionalist. She likes her choices to reflect things that have been proven to work. She doesn’t like ideas or actions that tinker on the edge of scary experimentation.
This leads Dad to ask his son, “What do we tell Mom?”
“Dad, Mom loves it when I am creative. She also likes it when I am generous. And she always tells me to pay attention to what makes me happy. Being a builder will allow me to be more creative and make things for people. To use Mom’s words, I will be showing my “spirit of generosity.”
“And you know what else, Dad?”
“Nope,” says Dad.
“By repeating her advice and using her words, ‘spirit of generosity,’ she’ll know that I’ve listened to her. That will win me some points.”
“Wow, son, you’ve really thought about this. In business lingo, we’d say ‘You’ve come up with a great pitch.’”
“But Dad, the best pitch of all is that I will be happy, and it all started with an idea created by Amazon, which we love to hate but we use all the time.”
Now, Dad is laughing. “Son, have I ever explained the word ‘irony’ to you?”
The son shakes his head no.
“Well, you’ve just created a state of perfect irony that will make adults laugh, and may just get you the order from Mom.”
And God said, I mean Amazon said, “Let us be builders.”
And we were.
And it was good.
Really?


This was funny in a very smart and observant way. The back-and-forth between the father and son felt genuine, and the Lego angle made the whole piece surprisingly charming. Sometimes the strangest corporate ideas really do say something about the world we’re living in.
Small trivia. When we were kids, Samsonite manufactured LEGOs in Loveland, Colorado, under a license from LEGO. I wonder if the employees would have been called "suitcase builders."