Real life Lichess Zen Mode

In life, as in chess, knowing the status of the person across from you rarely helps you play a better game.

They both strip away the single most distracting metric in human interaction: the rating. They force you to engage with the opponent in front of you, rather than the number or title attached to them.

In online chess, I use "Zen Mode" not to hide chat or board distractions, but specifically to hide the ELO rating. When I can see that number, I immediately stop playing the board and start playing my bias.

If I see an opponent rated 100 points below me, I subconsciously fall back into lazy patterns. I assume there is a reason they are lower-rated, but at my level - hovering around 1900 to 2000 ELO - this assumption is dangerous. There are usually three distinct possibilities for why they are lower rated:

1. They play the same style as me, but are simply worse across the board.
2. They play faster, lower-quality chess.
3. They actually play better moves than me, but manage their clock poorly.

If I relax, only the first scenario benefits me. In the second, my laziness leads to time pressure. In the third, I get outplayed because, while I am a strong endgame player, I am nowhere near as well-versed in opening theory as I should be.

I dislike playing lower-ranked opponents more than I dislike playing those of the same rank.

Conversely, when I see an opponent rated higher than me, I try to reinvent the wheel. Instead of playing my game, I overthink move-by-move, eventually boxing myself into a corner where the only non-losing options are obscure and fragile.

When I turn on Zen Mode, I just play. And invariably, my results are better.

Last week, I experienced this exact phenomenon offline, on a Padel court.

I played with a partner I didn't know. Because I had no context - no "rating" - I was entirely my usual self. I was chatty, aggressive, and combative on the field. I showed my teeth. I actually found him so competent that I asked to switch sides specifically so I could play against him. I wanted the friction.

Immediately after the game, I sent a voice note to my wife:

"I played with this guy - a perfect teammate, an even better opponent - I hated him! He is a wolf in sheep's clothing. He was pretending he didn't care about the game, playing nice, but I could see the hyper-competitive spirit underneath. He pretended not to care, but he wants to win as badly as I do."

I recognized the pattern because I possess it.

Later, he messaged me. It turns out he is a multi-time CEO of several companies. He saw my LinkedIn handle in my Telegram description (yes I am that weird) and found us to have a lot in common. He invited me to lunch to discuss business and general AI developments.

The realization was clear: If I had known his "rating" - his status as a prominent CEO - I would not have been myself.

I would have filtered the aggression. I would have tempered the risk-taking. I would have been less polarizing, attempting to mirror what I thought a CEO wants to see, rather than how I actually operate. I would have tried to "reinvent the wheel" just like I do against a higher-rated chess player.

And in doing so, I likely wouldn't have resonated with him at all. He didn't invite me to lunch because I was polite; he invited me because he saw a fellow wolf in sheep's clothing. He responded to the drive, the "itch" to get things done, and the willingness to compete.

Thank you, Padel, for providing the logic.

In life, as in chess, knowing the status of the person across from you rarely helps you play a better game. It usually just convinces you to play a different one - and often, a losing one.