“I just have to get back to even.”

If there were an epigraph for many a failed gambler’s biography, it would be that. John Doe went broke trying to get back to even. The question, though, is why.

What compels a person to turn a forgettable loss into an unforgettable tragedy? To lose yourself—and your bankroll—in pursuit of an arbitrary accounting goal?

Eight months ago, you agreed to lead a project that was supposed to take six weeks.

Then the scope crept. The deliverable—once a clear, achievable goal—is now a bloated, unfocused thing nobody's excited about. The version you'll eventually ship, if you ever ship it, will land with a shrug. You know in your gut that people have moved on. The work stopped being worth the hours a long time ago, and the finish line keeps backing away from you.

You’d been angling for that big promotion, but it went to someone else. That raise you’d been pushing for got deferred to next cycle. The lead you’d been cultivating for months suddenly ghosted you. As you sit with that realization, something hot rises in your chest. It’s just not fair, the feeling objects. You put in the hours—you did the work. You were owed that win, and it was taken from you.

That anger—the unresolved, unrequited yearning for justice, and the urge to lash out in protest—has a name.

You’ve been there. We all have. You studied for weeks. You knew the material cold. You walked out of the exam feeling good, but then the grade came back far lower than you expected. Or maybe it was a job interview. You prepared for every question, landed every answer, and felt the energy in the room shift in your favor. Then the rejection email arrived two days later.

You turn it over and over in your head. Where did you go wrong?

Picture this: You’ve just lost a massive pot. You watch in frustration as the dealer pushes all those chips to your opponent. Chips that could’ve been yours. Then you feel it—a roiling in your gut to reclaim what you lost. Your instincts shout at you: Do something. Fast.

Don’t listen.

Setbacks are inevitable, but failure is optional. Poker teaches you this lesson the hard way. As for me, I was a slow learner.

“Don’t be results-oriented.”

If you’re a poker player, you’ve probably heard this phrase before. It’s spoken at almost every table and discussed constantly in forums. It reminds us that, when facing uncertainty, obsessing over short-term results hurts our long-term strategy. A lesson to live by.

Poker isn't just a game; it's a masterclass in strategy under pressure. That's why I'm launching my new series: Lessons from the Felt.