I don't play poker. Well.

After recently watching Rounders and reading Robboblog, I’ve learned that the game of poker isn’t about the cards you have been dealt. It’s about reading those who play against you. Your luck, especially in Hold’Em games, is just as good as anyone else’s’ (assuming Edward Norton isn’t feeding you prime face cards).

As for reading these opponents, I’ve yet to craft a foolproof procedure. The problem is that there is no foolproof procedure. Every foe is different. Sizing up a person will get you nowhere unless you can crack his code. And it is then, and only then, when you get your answer without having to ask the question. If you learn how to do this, please tell me how.This method can apply to life even when you are not sitting at a gaming table. In fact, I dealt with reading another’s poker face just last night.

As my summer semester of grad school plows on, I am coming to the ever-clearer realization that my schedule come August is a trainwreck in the making. Paramount in this web is my wedding day, August 13. Generally speaking, conventional wisdom says that you it would be best to not have anything else scheduled for this day.

Conventional Wisdom just boarded a bus for the coast.

I just had two new classes start up, and sure enough, the syllabi have foretold my doom again. Scrolling down to the class schedule, I see that August 13 will have no ordinary class scheduled. Instead, in all caps, it reads: CASE COMPETITION. Uh oh.

So, it’s clear that I have a graded assignment, for which I should be present, the day of my wedding. This just won’t do. Yeah, yeah, I could slip it in the morning, but enough people would kill me before I even could suit up for the ceremony. Now I have already taken the precautionary steps to avoid such a conflict by telling the program dean (Hello, Dean!) months ago about the wedding. He said the professors will be happy to work with me to make other arrangements. But until I ask said professors, nothing is set in stone.

Here’s where being a poker player comes in. As I sit in the back of my first class last night, I am doing everything I can to read my professor. Even though I have the dean’s assurance, the professor is the one who must grant Plan B. I e-mailed him earlier in the day with the dilemma, but I’m sure he hadn’t read it yet. This leaves me listening to his opening lecture and course rules trying to decipher how helpful he is going to be. I’m reading a poker face.

On a scale of 1 to 3, where 1 is “Not Accommodating” and 3 is “So Accommodating,” I’ve got to start my initial analysis at a middle-of-the-road 2. I’ll be weighing some of the professor’s comments carefully, and at the end, let’s see what my chances are of getting that stupid case moved. Got it?

“Good evening, I am your Professor for Strategic Management” READ: 2. Short greeting, playing his cards close to his chest.

“I honestly feel that I have the best job in the world. I live 75 miles away from DC, but know that there’s nothing out there better than teaching.” READ: Up 1 = 3. Wow, this guy is in it for the love, not for the paycheck. That’s a good sign.

“I have trouble dealing with authority. I was in Vietnam and left the service pending a court martial.” READ: Down 1 = 2. Whoa. That’s guy’s tough, and he probably doesn’t care what the dean said.

“It is not my responsibility if you learn anything. That’s your responsibility.” READ: Down 1 = 1. Trouble. Can’t learn if I’m not there.”

“Shortly after getting out of the service, I went back to get my teaching PhD via the GI Bill at Penn State. My wife was pregnant, so free education sounded pretty good.” READ: Up 1 = 2. Dude, he’s married! Sympathy points!

“I am no longer married to her, though. We didn’t communicate very well. It’s important in your group projects to communicate.” READ: Down 1 = 1. Ok, so maybe a little less sympathy than I thought.”

I am now happily married and my wife and I are both professors. All we do is teach grad course. READ: Up 1 =2. He must understand the demands of working full-time as a grad student. Reprieve.

Final READ = 2. Looks like this exercise was a wash.

(Epiblog: Even though I couldn’t read the guy any better than I can a Dostoyevsky novel, other arrangements will be made to do some extra work to make up for missing the competition. I rule!)