You Have Plenty to Gain

"I pooped in my pants. And then there was this time when I was running in from the blacktop at school, and I couldn't hold it, and I pooped again." I was sitting in El Pollo Loco in Las Vegas with my laptop open when I heard a young girl say this. She had a big smile on her face. Then, one of her friends, who also was smiling, said, "I did that too, once. But I was in the car and had to sit on it. And it stank."

I was really getting a kick out of this conversation. Then, when I asked the girls their ages, they took notice of my laptop and began whispering. The fact that the actions of these 7-year-olds were not only being watched, but also being recorded, suddenly made them clam up. The sheer, unbridled joy of sharing their feelings was replaced by the guarded skepticism that comes from knowing their words might have repercussions.

When I was a 10-year-old at overnight camp, one of my neighbors happened to be a counselor and was nice enough to bring my laundry home to my mom. It was a camp rule that all clothing, including underpants, had to be labeled so that clothes wouldn't get lost in the unreliable camp laundry. When I pooped myself, I was afraid that if I threw away my underpants, someone would find the soiled stinkers in the garbage with the words "Greg Dinkin" printed on them in permanent ink. Rather than face this embarrassment, I put my underpants in a plastic bag, stuffed them into my laundry bag, and wrote a note that has become a part of Dinkin family lore that read: "Sorry, Mommy, but I didn't make it back from the lower field in time."

About six months ago, I was working in my apartment, and somehow I pooped myself before I made it to the bathroom. I thought it was hilarious, and while no one had to know about it, my business partner and I enjoyed a laugh – not unlike the laugh those little girls shared – when I told him. Now, the question is: Why in the world am I telling you this?

If you've read my past columns, you know that I condone giving away as little information as you can about your play in poker. With rare exceptions, I don't show my cards when I don't have to, and don't engage in poker discussions that specifically address my play. If you've read my book, you know that I stress the importance of keeping your cards close to the vest in business.

As a poker player and businessman, I've applied these concepts to my everyday life. Before opening up, showing any sign of vulnerability, or divulging anything about myself, I've asked myself: What could I possibly have to gain? And as a tangible win-lose proposition, the answer has been, nothing. Thus, I have kept my thoughts to myself and become more and more closed.

I can point to several instances in which I've opened up to people, only to have it used against me. I once confided to a person who was both a friend and a business associate that I had some cash flow problems. When we later had to renegotiate the terms of our agreement, not only did he try to deceive me, he also used my cash flow situation as a weapon against me. I became more closed.

I was once on a business trip when I confided to a co-worker that I had decorated my hotel room for my girlfriend, who was visiting me for her birthday. This co-worker then bribed a housekeeper for a key and put pornographic photos all over the room. In addition to my girlfriend being mortified, I felt self-conscience that my romantic side had been exposed. I became more closed.

To a rational, scientific poker player, letting people know your vulnerabilities is akin to telling your opponents your own tells before you sit down. To a hardened negotiator, wearing your emotions on your sleeves is akin to letting your adversary know your bottom line price when you walk in the door. To a couple of little girls, saying exactly what was on their minds led to a laugh, and ultimately, a feeling of closeness that can't be attained by holding back your emotions.

Think about your closest friends. What makes them so close to you is that they know things about you. As kids, you take oaths, "cross your heart and hope to die," and in the process of revealing yourself, it makes you feel good. It makes you feel alive. And in a strange kind of way, it makes you feel safe. In spite of all the risk, the potential embarrassment, and the fear associated with opening up, it feels good to express yourself. Forget about trying to measure it; you can look no further than the joy of kids who haven't put up these barriers to know that you have plenty to gain.

In this column, I have just told upward of 100,000 people that I have pooped in my pants (twice), and had cash flow problems at one point in my life. As a poker player and a businessperson, I've made a horrible decision by showing vulnerability. But to show you, and more importantly, to show myself, that there is plenty to be gained by opening up, I've come clean – and I feel good about it. Now, pardon me while I go clean myself up.

Greg Dinkin is the author of The Poker MBA: Winning in Business No Matter What Cards You're Dealt (see the ad in this issue). For a book review – plus a joker – send an E-mail to [email protected], subject heading, The Poker MBA.