Eons ago I was pretending to be a manager at a computer development and manufacturing company. One of the books I read in my efforts to survive was “The 7 Habits of Highly Effective People,” by Stephen R. Covey. Apparently his advice was sound, because according to the current book cover over 30 million copies have been sold in the last 25 years. The version I read had specific advice for women in the workplace. This was the early 1990s and we women were still trying to find our way to the right water cooler. You know, the one where all the important men made earth shifting decisions without telling the rest of us. Okay, so maybe it wasn’t the water cooler; maybe it was the local bar where strategies were determined, but you get what I mean. Water or whiskey, we had to learn from a new playbook. What Covey tried to convey was that American men treated work the same way they did sports. Everything was a game that shifted with each pass of the ball until it was time to sign a contract. That’s when the clock ran out and word of honor was supposed to rule the stadium. The first trick was to learn each coworker’s preferred sport. Football? Basketball? Ice Hockey? That meant he was a team player, which also meant you couldn’t believe anything he or his team said. There was a ball or a puck in play and only they knew which teammate was running with it. In those cases, deceit wasn’t immoral. It was great fun. The example was when the head of a committee would tell a duo of unsuspecting females that they were in charge of a project and then as soon as they left the room, he would alter the list of who’s at bat. The women would feel hurt, betrayed, and frustrated once they found out about the feint and never figured out why or how they’d been outmaneuvered. What about single player sports such as golf or tennis? Those players had a “me against the world” approach to business whether they recognized it or not. They kept their bluffs to themselves. Again, their women counterparts seldom recognized which sport was determining their futures. Don’t quote me on this. Covey may have never have written a word of the above, which would now be considered sexist observations. Yet that’s what I took away and what changed my perspective on life in the workplace. Covey wrote reams of good advice, input that additionally had great influence on me, such as the concept of a win-win scenario. But isn’t “win-win” circling the wagons back to which game we’re playing? The first thing I tried to do after reading the 7 Habits was figure out who played what. I started dropping phrases at meetings to watch the reactions, such as: “Let’s pass the ball to George and see if he can tackle the situation.” I felt like a total fool when I uttered that. Seriously, I expected to be ridiculed. To my great surprise some people relaxed and moved on with the suggestion. Aha! They were team players. However, one fellow stiffened. I waited for the perfect opportunity to whisper to him, “The ball’s in your court now.” He glanced at me in mutual understanding. Single sport fellow. Don’t ask him to co-author a paper. Eventually, I worked for a gentleman who I’d describe as a retired boxer. He’d pummel you to death and call it fun. The trick was to learn how to polish his medals, carry his silk robe, and tell him how handsome he looked with his broken nose. Oops! Was that cutting? I don’t mean it to be. I’m just giving you another example of how it pays to learn to which sport your bosses or coworkers respond best. Having put this to slightly good use during my working years, it was only natural for me to pick up the phrase when referring to playmates after my retirement. It began with one best buddy in particular. There were reasons why he had to be in charge. I understood and respected those reasons. Further, I knew that unless we did things his way I would be out of the picture. Since I wanted to be in the picture, I accepted the relationship on his terms. Whatever we did, it was the “Louis Game.” (I made up that name. All the Louis’s I know were uncles and are dead. I figured it was a safe alias to use. My apologies to anyone reading this whose name is Louis. Also George.) For years, I happily applied the phrase “We’re playing X’s game” to anyone who was particularly, eccentrically, a control freak. The term worked well and shortened my descriptions of events from 50,000 words to a mere 20,000. Then a few weeks ago it hit me between the eyes about acquaintances who fall outside the control freak spectrum. OMG! Each and every one of us has a unique pattern of behavior that can be labeled “so-and-so’s game.” Therefore, the same strategizing I used in the workplace could apply to my everyday life. What’s their play and how do I avoid a bloody nose? I know, I know. I’m slow at figuring things out. But better late than never. I’m going to start practicing next year. I can’t be too obvious, though. Actually, I should never publish this blog. It’s giving away my scheme. If you were sitting in a psychotherapist’s office and he or she asked you to describe your game, the one people have to navigate while interacting with you, could you pull an answer out of your hat? It takes some introspection, doesn’t it? I think we can expect two kinds of responses. One is from people who go away and think about it. The other is from those who consider it a waste of time. Both reactions are revelatory. Now the big question is, what’s my game? Give me some time, I’m still thinking. Boggle? Paddle ball? Last Word? I’ll have to get back to you on that. Or you tell me.