Tetris Master

Late last year, I signed up for LinkedIn Premium. I haven’t noticed any dramatic changes. My profile views didn’t skyrocket. I may see slightly more information about who’s looking at my page, but nothing earth-shattering.

What I did do, though, was quietly sneak something into my skills section.

“Tetris Master.”

It’s been there for years. Not a single comment.

That’s fine. It wasn’t meant for everyone.

A Skill Only Some People Understand

“Tetris Master” is a passive callout. A quiet nod to designers who live in in-house roles and know exactly what that phrase means. It’s my nicer way of saying “pixel pusher,” but with context, humor, and empathy baked in.

When strategy isn’t respected, when data doesn’t exist, when direction is reduced to “just make it look nice,” design becomes reactionary. Blocks fall. You rotate. You stack. You clear space where you can. You keep things from collapsing.

That’s not laziness.

That’s survival.

And still, I try to find the why.

Outcomes Without Inputs

One of the biggest red flags I see in portfolio reviews and job listings lately is the demand for outcomes. Did the design translate into measurable results? Did it drive engagement? Did it increase conversions?

I don’t know.

No one ever told me.

There was no customer data. No performance tracking. No follow-up after launch. Most of the time, I was lucky if I received a real problem to solve at all. Usually, it was simply, “We have X. Get it out there.”

That was the brief.

That was the strategy.

And before the next request arrived, the previous one was already forgotten.

What Strategy Should Look Like

In an ideal world, strategy starts with a kickoff. Customer data. A defined audience. Clear outcomes. Even a basic profile grounded in something more substantial than “this is what we say it is.”

Instead, I was often handed X and told to figure out Y. Including all the steps in between.

So I did.

I created structure where none existed. I built hierarchy from ambiguity. I translated vague objectives into something usable, repeatable, and functional. Sometimes it felt less like strategy and more like an old Nintendo game, with reactionary sounds of “pew, pew, pew” going off in my head as things came at me faster than they could be planned.

That’s Tetris.

Why I Keep the Joke

“Tetris Master” isn’t me making light of my work. It’s me naming the environment honestly. It acknowledges what many in-house designers experience but rarely get credit for.

I was given falling blocks and incomplete information. I still built something that worked.

Art supplies can be replaced.

Metrics can’t be invented.

And I’m not interested in pretending they existed when they didn’t.

What I am interested in is continuing to advocate for design that’s respected as thinking, not decoration.

Shouting Into the Dark, On Purpose

No one has ever commented on that skill. Maybe it’s shouting into the dark. Or maybe it’s a filter. A quiet signal meant for the people who understand what it’s like to work without a net.

Either way, it stays.

Because humor has always been how I tell the truth when the truth is uncomfortable. And “Tetris Master” tells mine pretty accurately.