RSS Feeds:Understanding business & design
through casino poker
By Dirk Knemeyer
Part 1 - Part 2 - Part 3 - Part 4
Photo courtesy of heather907
PART 2
POWER: Use It Or Lose It
At the table
The poker room at the Bellagio is legendary among serious poker players. Not only is it the home of
The Big Game—where the best of the best play every day for millions of dollars at a time—it also offers some of the biggest tournaments around.
On a recent trip to Vegas I bought in at the Bellagio to play my typical cash game, $200 buy-in No-Limit Hold 'Em.
Within the first 15 minutes I was dealt pocket aces and, fortunately, came up against a loose aggressive player
with pocket kings and a big chip stack. She tried to push me hard, and after a series of raises and re-raises I was
all-in. Five cards on the felt later and I had doubled up, having more than $400 in front of me. This was quite a way to start.
At the poker table, it's their own money that will be lost; subjecting design to the vagaries of individual personalities and subjective interpretation can have an effect that dramatically impacts a product, or even an entire company. It is our responsibility as design professionals to insist on a design and evaluation process that enables people to share their ideas and opinions, while ultimately relying on our expertise to drive appropriate solutions.
Over the next 30 minutes I increased my chip stack. I was already the tall stack at the table, and was controlling the pace of the play and the betting. Most of my opponents were fish—tourists who were not used to sitting in at a real casino poker table. They were aggressive at inappropriate times, tried to "draw out" improbable hands, and had less leverage than I due to my larger chip stack. It was easy to feel confident and assert my strategy and approach. Other players were basing their decisions on my actions, allowing me to dictate the pace and tenor of the game. All signs pointed to a long and profitable night.Then the card room manager came over: "Seat 4, we're moving you." If I knew what was coming, I would have tried to refuse the move, or maybe cashed in my chips and called it a night. Indeed, they moved me to the "featured" table on the floor at the moment, right by the rail where a number of people were leaning in, watching the action. As I sat down, I noticed that everyone at the table had more chips than me. This meant that they had all been at the table for a fair amount of time. But for all of them to have such large chip stacks—given the relatively modest buy-in amount—gave me a pretty good indicator that they were quality players. After only a few hands, my initial fears were validated: I was in deep trouble.
This table was loaded with people who obviously played a lot more than me and were generally superior. Worse, the person to my left was the big chip stack, with over $1500 in chips. He was an excellent player, despite playing a very dangerous loose-aggressive style. Since he was sitting to my left ("behind me"), I would have to act before him. That meant he would have the chance to see my play first, then make his decision about what to do. Twice I tried to make moves on the pot, and twice he slammed the door with large over bets. He was doing the same thing to other people, employing a strategy that, ironically, I myself favor: using your chips to bully the table, and building up some nice winnings as a result. It was disastrous for me, because my confident, calculated recklessness turned instead into a tight-conservative style—the weakest way one can possibly play.
After only about an hour at the table—and with a chip stack that had dwindled back down to about $250—I found myself in the small blind with pocket queens. Three people limped in ahead of me, and I smiled inside, knowing my time had finally come. Taking advantage of my late position, I grabbed two stacks of chips and raised the bet up to $40. The guy in seat five shot me a look from behind his old-school Oakleys and raised the bet to $80. Secretly, this was just what I had hoped; that he would try to bully me again despite not having good cards, and I would come back over the top and take his chips. The other three players folded, and I called his bet instead of raising—just in case.
The flop came J 7 6 rainbow. Perfect! No over cards to my queen, and no serious sign of trouble. So I led out with a $60 bet. He thought for about 10 seconds, twisting his mouth instead of verbalizing what was going on in his head, and finally said "All in!" This meant that I would need to risk all of my chips in order to get paid off, or fold and surrender what was almost certainly the best hand in this position. I called. He smiled knowingly as he flipped over pocket aces. I was dominated, and it was no surprise when I did not improve on the turn or river. I was shell-shocked. I got up from my chair and headed out of the card room, incredulous that my ride at the Bellagio—which had started out so promisingly—had ended with such a pitiful whimper. I was left to wonder: what if I had retained more confidence and played the aggressive style I know I can win with, instead of allowing more experienced players with more chips dictate my play and decide my fate?
But here's the killer: since design, to most people, appears to be rooted in form and aesthetics, there is a tempation to evaluate it in superficial ways—inevitably boiling down to personal opinion, or personal style, or personal taste.
Yes, we can make your logo bigger
As a design professional, it took a fair amount of time and experience before
I was able to have confidence in my knowledge and abilities—to the point of mitigating
the design with more powerful stakeholders. At first, the process of getting a design from
idea to production was a reactive process, changing to meet the requests of various stakeholders
and participants. Even though my design ideas and decisions were initially made with purpose, once
it came to the point of communicating the design and getting approval, I turned into a dutiful order
taker: Yes, we can make the logo bigger. Yes, we can use animated gifs. Yes, we can package the product
in a brushed steel box because your spouse loves brushed steel. This is despite the fact that I knew those
were not the correct decisions, and was more than capable of explaining the reasons-why. But I allowed myself
to be intimidated by people's titles, or personalities, or my fears of what might happen if I disagreed. I did
not have confidence in my own abilities, nor did I have the language and maturity to assert my expertise as
an important part of the iterative process. It is a lesson I have not yet mastered at the poker table, as
my Bellagio experience attests—but have various insights about in the world of design.
Design is not for everyone
There is perhaps no greater enemy to design than the dreaded "design by committee" approach.
I'm sure we've all been there: an opinionated executive imposing his or her idiosyncratic will
over the process; an extended, multi-disciplinary team lacking a clear and empowered design lead
to make decisions; the arbitrary feedback of different stakeholders forcing various "tweaks" to the
design that, cumulatively, undermine the entire vision and intent of the thing. Each of these cases
is ultimately the same: well-meaning people trying to improve the design, but lacking the vision, knowledge,
or understanding to contribute productively. It is the well-meaning part that is perhaps the most dangerous;
people want to contribute, and they honestly believe that they have something to add to the final deliverable.
But here's the killer: since design, to most people, appears to be rooted in form and aesthetics, there is a tempation to evaluate it in superficial ways—inevitably boiling down to personal opinion, or personal style, or personal taste.
In fact, design is much deeper, and much more complicated. Beyond a "marriage of form and function," design also marries strategy and insight, business needs, market opportunities, technological possibilities, and user desires. Great design requires a strong vision and the work of talented, experienced designers. Just as some people think that they can pay an entrance fee, sit down with professional poker players at a table, and have success playing against them, they can make the similar mistake of considering themselves capable of directing design. But the stakes are different: At the poker table, it's their own money that will be lost; subjecting design to the vagaries of individual personalities and subjective interpretation can have an effect that dramatically impacts a product, or even an entire company. It is our responsibility as design professionals to insist on a design and evaluation process that enables people to share their ideas and opinions, while ultimately relying on our expertise to drive appropriate solutions.
Design requires strong communication
Amateurs often think that winning poker is about knowing the odds and understanding the most complex strategies. But real success is about execution, and consistency. During my trip to the Bellagio I always knew the right thing to do, but I allowed the situation to dictate my success. I was unable to overcome the people and situations I was faced with.
Every design decision is made for a reason. But if designers are unable to articulate—or even understand—the decisions that they make, they are helpless to ward off the uninformed, and often counterproductive, "contributions" from other stakeholders. They will be unable to protect the integrity of the design.
The irony here is that since you were brought in as a designer, the decision—at some point—was made that the client needed what you had to offer. If they were humbled enough to search out and retain such services, then, to some degree, the balance of power is yours to lose.
For example, our company was working on a large consumer application that required a rich and complex interaction solution. We developed a conceptual model for the application, and presented it to client stakeholders—ranging from the executive team, to product marketing, engineering, and customer service. Each group had different questions, issues, and suggestions. Some of these were very insightful, and we incorporated them into the eventual design. Others, however, were not helpful at all; they didn't reflect an understanding of the design challenges, nor of the mindset behind the design decisions. But we were able to mitigate those potential landmines. We understood and believed in our design, and clearly communicated the reasons why certain decisions were made. As various questions and suggestions were posed, we were able to contextualize them both in the design, as well as the rationale behind our decisions. We showed how our conceptual model supported the business requirements, and how the major architectural change proposed by the engineering team would undermine meeting those requirements. We illustrated how the CEO's (passionate) request to expand functionality not only ran contrary to our understanding of the user's desires for the application, but that it would also change the very product category of the application. In short, we understood the essence of the client's design needs, and used our knowledge and experience to help communicate our decisions and carry a strong solution through.Of course, it is ultimately the client's company that the product is being made for, and if they demand something be changed, it invariably will be changed—whether we agree or not. Despite this, the ability to really understand and articulate the reasons why we made our design decisions can go a long way in preserving effective design, and ultimately serving the best interests of the client.
You have more power than you think
The irony here is that since you were brought in as a designer, the decision—at some point—was made that the client needed what you had to offer. If they were humbled enough to search out and retain such services, then, to some degree, the balance of power is yours to lose. If you can understand the moves that you make in your design process, and are in turn able to effectively articulate those moves to the client, you are actually in a great position to insure that your vision moves forward without too much compromise. By staying strong and remaining true to your knowledge, experience, beliefs, and insights, you will be more successful in design, and, just maybe, when you're on the button contemplating an all-in re-raise on the river.
Part 1 - Part 2 - Part 3 - Part 4
Dirk Knemeyer is a Founding Principal of Involution Studios LLC, a digital product design firm located in Silicon Valley. His diverse professional background includes time as a management consultant, advertising executive, and an on-air television and radio personality. Dirk earned a Master of Arts in Popular Culture from Bowling Green State University and is a voracious cultural observer. He regularly publishes insights on culture, business, and design at his website, www.knemeyer.com.
