Playing Cards Doesn’t Have to Be a Solo Sport
Though one may be overpowered, two can defend themselves. A cord of three strands is not quickly broken.
—Ecclesiastes 4:12, NIV
Having grown up as a military brat, and for the most part, without siblings (my sister was adopted when I was 12, and we lived in the same household for only five years), I learned to entertain myself. I would spend countless hours in my room building models, creating alternate realities, or playing famous war heroes. My room was my shop, my space capsule, and my battlefield. I was perfectly happy being by myself, tackling life’s problems, and discovering new things through books and television. I did spend time outdoors, but it was usually spent trying to develop friendships.
Moving every three to four years as my father was posted to another command required me to hold on to relationships loosely. I had to find a safe place in my heart to allow others in but only to the degree that when the inevitable happened, a move to another place, I would not be devastated by the interruption. Naturally, the depths of my relationships were probably suspect. I could play the part of a close friend but only in so far as feigning a genuine interest in their affairs.
When we arrived at a new home, I would spend a great deal of time developing friendships. I knew these had a beginning and an end but I was determined to make the best of it. I had developed behaviors that allowed me to be engaging but still allowed me to maintain some distance. I learned to protect my heart and emotions by not seeming to take anything seriously. I liked to make others laugh and have fun, but this prevented me from becoming close. I played on sports teams but was never very good at it. I didn’t like having to rely on others.
Sometimes we think we can do everything on our own. We believe in our own strength and our own tenacity to overcome all obstacles. We trust our instincts and barricade them from others to preserve our environment. However, life should not be played this way. In many games of cards, players play their hand without the benefit of someone helping them. This can be satisfying when one wins but frustrating when one loses. What I didn’t realize when I was young was that some card games allow people to play together in teams.
Strengthen Your Hand Through Teamwork
While attending Ohio State University, I was introduced to a card game called Euchre. This game is played with only the tens through the kings and the aces. Everyone played it, sometimes at the expense of studying. You could see Euchre games being played in every dorm room, every lobby, every cafeteria, and even in the classrooms and libraries on campus. Euchre is played in teams of two. In some Euchre circles, signals are expected and allowed. These signals are highly developed and refined with a partner who is expected to be loyal to the partnership. Members of good teams seem to have a sixth sense that guides their plays. The cards are played in a predictable sequence with one partner helping the other so that, in the end, the team wins the game. They are both committed to the outcome or the vision of winning, and they both know they are contributing something of value to the vision. They are united in their journey.
I was perfectly satisfied playing solo sports, particularly surfing, and SCUBA diving. SCUBA diving, although usually done with a buddy, is still a solo sport. Your buddy is there, not as a team member but as a person you hope you can rely on in the event of an emergency such as running out of air.
As I advanced up the training ladder to the level of PADI Open Water SCUBA Instructor, I learned many underwater tasks and how to teach them to others. Teaching is a solo sport to some degree, but I discovered in time that I could be more effective working with a team.
The first basic SCUBA course that I taught after being certified as an instructor had about 30 aspiring Jacque Cousteau types. In the classroom they hung on to every word I said, taking extensive notes, and asking numerous questions. Sometimes, I would enjoy scaring them by telling a personal shark encounter story. This elevated my ego as they saw me as the invincible shark warrior. However, in the open water, I could no longer rely on my invincibility to control, and more importantly, to protect my students from making deadly mistakes.
During the final dive of the Basic Open-Water SCUBA Certification course, I required a 100-foot bounce dive, meaning we would swim down to 100 feet, take a look around, and ascend to the surface. I did this so that the students’ curiosity would be satisfied when they saw that the grey, cold environment at that depth was nothing to write home about. In the more advanced courses, I would have my students simulate running out of air at that depth, by taking their regulators out of their mouths and swimming to the surface on just the air they had in their lungs. This is called a free ascent. For new divers, this is too dangerous. Nevertheless, I would take my class down to a 100-foot ledge and line them up along the ledge so that they could peer into the grey imposing depth beyond.
With 30 students, it was not safe for me to take them on this dive alone. I had many friends who were advanced divers, and they volunteered to work as part of my team to ensure the safety of my students. I assigned one advanced diver to hover over and just behind 3–5 students as they stood on the ledge. Everything seemed safe and under control so this was merely a safety precaution. Everyone looked calm and composed, this being their fourth ocean dive.
I had them conduct exercises, such as taking their regulators out of their mouths and returning them, and taking their masks off and putting them back on while clearing the water out. They had done this dozens of times in the pool and on previous shallow water dives. While they were doing this, I noticed that one of my students, a young lady, seemed to be overly enjoying this last exercise. In that moment, without her mask on, she leaned forward and started swimming frantically for the bottom, which leveled off at 200 feet. I spun around, kicking my fins as hard and fast as I could, I chased her. I was able to grab her falling mask on the way down and was reaching out as far as my arms could extend to grab her flailing fins from behind.
When I reached her, we had hit about 130 feet, the approximate safe limit for compressed air SCUBA equipment. I grabbed her, turned her around, and headed back to the rest of the class. I could see a calm, joyous expression on her face. I knew that she had succumbed to nitrogen narcosis; a potentially debilitating but not necessarily fatal condition if someone is there to assist. Susceptibility to nitrogen narcosis can occur for many people approaching the 80–100-foot depth. It is like drinking a shot or two of your favorite liquor. It makes you feel invincible, like you can dive to the deepest depth or do the most outrageous things safely. On one occasion, this happened to me but as soon as I felt the giddiness, I moved into shallow water, which alleviated the problem. We swam swiftly but safely back toward the rest of the class standing on the 100-foot ledge.
On the way back, I had a moment of suppressed panic. Was the class okay? Had something disastrous occurred while I was chasing after the young lady? As the class came into focus I could see the tips of the bottom portions of their fins as they protruded slightly over the edge of the ledge. I started counting pairs, 1, 2, 3, and up to 29. Whew! As the young lady and I reached the 100-foot ledge, I noticed behind each small group of three to five students, my loyal and committed team members cautiously watching, ready to respond at a moment’s notice to any emergency that might befall their designated students. I learned the importance of teamwork that day.
Working as a SCUBA instructor at a local dive shop, I spent my time underwater six of seven days per week. On the seventh day after church, I rested by paddling out on my surfboard and catching waves. I loved sitting on the water, straddling my board, and looking at the horizon while trying to spot the building of a swell. When I spotted a wave approaching, I along with everyone in my immediate vicinity would feverously paddle to what we thought would be the perfect spot to catch the wave. When I caught the wave, inevitably, there was someone next to me trying to ride it as well. Good manners and protocol dictate that the surfer closest to the breaking white water has the right of way and others should give preference to that person. This is not necessarily teamwork but sometimes it can feel like it especially when the sun is shining, the water is warm and clear, and everyone is in a good mood. We worked together, honoring the values and protocols of surfing so that we each had a day that we would remember fondly.
On one occasion, while surfing with a couple of veteran surfer friends and one friend who was experiencing his first time on a surfboard, we saw a large shark cross in front of us. We were all paddling abreast of each other to catch a wave, when the shark’s fin broke the surface about five feet in front of my board. I immediately reacted by pulling my hands out of the water and lifting my feet and calves up perpendicular to my body, putting my whole balance on my solar plexus. As I watched the shark pass, I saw next to me, out of the corner of my right eye, my novice surfer friend starting to panic. His board was shaking and he was about to fall off. Almost in perfect synchronization, two of us on both sides of my panicking friend reached out to stabilize his surfboard. We talked to him calmly to help him regain his composure as we gingerly reached back into the water to paddle in.
We worked instinctively in that moment of crisis. We understood each other’s personalities and skills. We bounced encouraging words back and forth, utilizing metaphors such as, “This is a piece of cake,” and “You handled that like Superman!” We were able to turn the potential disaster into a few moments of chuckles knowing that my panicking friend had experienced something that he could tell his grandkids one day. He survived a shark encounter. Although, in this instance, our team was very small, I discovered that the sharing of responsibility could be a very rewarding experience.
Our teamwork was greatly appreciated but, as far as I know, it was the last time my friend ever went surfing. Sometimes you can win the hand but lose friends in the process.
Key Team Members Can Help You Achieve Your Vision
As a musician, I played in many garage bands growing up. Needless to say, they were mostly disappointing and frustrating experiences. Musicians are not known for punctuality or a willingness to function as a team. We try but because most musical instrument practice occurs in solo settings, musicians can have a hard time performing in an ensemble. After many attempts to form and perform in a band, I set out on a not so successful solo career. I played a few gigs but couldn’t see myself doing this forever. I tried to maintain my band during this time, setting up regular practices, doing the marketing, and writing songs. I found that I did most of the business of the group and I was pretty good at it. A keyboardist friend of mine commented one day that I should consider managing artists. I asked him why he thought that? He said that I was the only musician that he knew who was organized. I suspect this was due to my years as a naval officer. I was not particularly intrigued by this idea until I started receiving phone calls from a number of musician friends who had heard that I was taking on clients.
Before I knew it, I had several clients who were quite notable in my area, and I was booking showrooms and lounges. This was a solo venture, and I was enjoying making a good living in music. However, because I was alone, my productivity was limited. There were just so many artists I could represent and do it well. Anymore than that, and I would have to shortchange them and not give proper attention to their careers.
One day while I was feeding pigeons at the park, a good friend who recently had a hit record came up to me and said he and his music partner needed some help. He had a manager, named Dillon, and they were hoping that I would talk with him to see if we might work together to help their careers. Dillon and I met and discussed the idea of merging as equal partners. It seemed like the right thing to do, and before long, we controlled most of the showrooms and lounges in the city. We had a strong stable of artists. We started a record label, a television show, and a production company, and we were finding ourselves quite successful. In addition, we were gaining a solid reputation for taking care of our artists when other managers were not as generous and caring.
I found that our teamwork allowed us to multiply our efforts. We were focused on a common vision and had value systems that were identical. We were second-guessing each other’s responses and had become genuinely good friends. We had also become the perfect Euchre team. Not all teammates will be onboard with the vision. Some will try to take advantage of others and the situation. Good teammates may be difficult to find but when you do, make sure you bring them aboard.
Recognize Good Teammates When They Cross Your Path
Another natural outlet for my desire to entertain was radio. There was work available, and I was fortunate to have discovered this early in my career. I built up a solid resume of radio jobs from sales, to on-air personality, to program manager. I was enjoying my airtime and the ability to share my thoughts with a larger audience. I spent most of my day in and around the station even after my on air shift was over. There was a small bookstore down the hall from the radio station, and when I could steal a few minutes away, I would wander down there and browse the bookshelves.
Having had a disastrous first marriage when I was much younger, I was reluctant to allow anyone else to join Team Jim. One day, while scanning the new books that had come in, I noticed a beautiful young lady at the counter. I hadn’t seen her before. Walking up to the counter I asked her a question, and her reply came across short and not so sweet. I wondered if she was just having a bad day? Her response, however, only spurred me on in subsequent encounters to try to develop a friendly conversation.
One day, while trying to think of something to say, my friend the owner of the bookstore, said, “Why don’t you just ask her out?” His voice was sufficiently loud enough to catch the ear of this young lady. With a perplexed and slightly embarrassed expression, I did so. She accepted, and we went on our first date that evening.
Laurie became my best friend. We spent most of our waking hours together or in close proximity. She would sit outside the broadcast booth waiting for my shift to end. We would go to the beach every weekend. While she sat on the beach reading, I was out in the line up surfing. I’d come in for lunch and paddle out again until it was time to take her home. She was and has always been there for me. She brought out the best in me and continues to do so, and I hope that I’ve done so for her as well. This is what good teammates do. We were married the next summer. My hand was definitely improving.
Bad Habits Are Hard to Break
Bad habits become glaringly obvious in the early days of marriage. For men, these are particularly difficult to identify and even more difficult to admit to and break free from. One of my buddies in college had a habit of breathing in a quick snort of air when he was ready to bluff in a game of Texas Hold-em. Everything would be deftly quiet, as the cards were dealt around the table. Calvin, not his real name, would lift his cards carefully, gently spreading them open so that only he could see the concealed panorama, and ever so slightly snort if he had a bad hand that he was going to bet on. I would listen for this routine with each hand. I’m not sure others knew this bad habit that Calvin had developed, but it allowed me to work his bluff in my favor. He could not resist trying to draw someone into his trap because the emotional and psychological reward when he was successful was obvious on his face. The reward was almost like a drug that beckoned Calvin to carry out the bluff even when all odds were against him. I saw him lose one hand after another trying to work his bluff each time. I thought he even looked forward to bad cards just so that he could engage his bluff, all the while hoping to experience the emotional and psychological high of trapping his opponents and moving them to fold their hands. Naturally, after everyone folded, he never showed his bluff hands with the exception of one time, when he inadvertently laid his cards face up as he gathered the chips to himself. From that point on, I watched and listened for his bluff cue, and when I heard it, I stayed in the game knowing that I had at least one opponent that I did not have to be concerned with.
Having gotten married to Laurie when I was 32, I had developed some bad habits. One that most men have is leaving the toilet seat up. When a man enters a bathroom, water closet, or toilet, whatever your culture calls it, he typically walks over to a stand up device. These devices do not require you to touch anything apart from your own body. There is something that is particularly distasteful about having to touch the urinal or toilet lid particularly in a public facility. Guys just want to go in, take care of business, and exit with little or no contact with our environment. We don’t mind washing our hands, which requires touching the faucet, but that is very different than lifting a toilet seat or lid.
At home, we like to keep things uncomplicated. We figure leaving the lid and seat up allows us the liberty to remain uncontaminated from the germs of our environment. We can quickly move to the device, do our business, step back, and move away. In that moment, we experience the cathartic joy of unencumbered release. Well, for some reason women like to have the seat down, probably for all the same reasons that men prefer the seat up. When we got married, I had to develop better habits; putting the seat back down was one of them.
As I mentioned earlier, habits run in loops. There is first a cue, something that motivates us to engage in a routine. The routine comes next, followed by a reward. The reward in the card game example was the joy that Calvin experienced having bluffed his opponents. In the previous example of the toilet seat, the reward was the cathartic joy of unencumbered release.
Habits are difficult to change. The best way to change them is to either change the reward or the routine as cues are very difficult to change since they are usually beyond your control. In the toilet seat example, over time, I added to my routine the element of lifting the seat and lowering it back down upon completion. My reward was lessened somewhat, in that now my routine was encumbered with the activity of engaging the pivot points of the toilet mechanism but the positive reward or reinforcement of my physical satisfaction remained. In addition, I gained a negative reinforcement by not having to anger my beautiful bride. Individuals as well as organizations have routines or habits that are detrimental to their daily functioning and ultimately to their growth and success.
Questions to Consider
1.When you have been on teams in the past, what did you find successful about working in a team environment? What did you find less than successful?
2.What elements would you consider makes for a productive team?
3.Think about your worst habit. What routine does it involve, what reward do you receive, and what cues or prompts you to follow this routine?
4.What routines are carried out in your organization? Are they positive or negative routines? Why?