The Colleague Who Wanted In

There’s a Blood Rage miniature sitting on the corner of my desk at school, one of the bigger monster figures, not painted, just there because I like having it in view while I grade. I’ve had a colleague down the hall, Marcus, who teaches history, ask about it probably a dozen times over two years before I actually did anything about the asking.

I want to be honest about why it took so long, because it wasn’t Marcus’s fault. I’ve got a specific kind of nervousness about inviting new people into a hobby night that already has an established rhythm, my wife and I, occasionally a couple of others, all of us knowing each other’s habits and pacing at this point. A brand new player changes that rhythm, slows the teaching down, and if I’m honest I think some part of me was protecting the smoothness of what we already had instead of actually doing the generous thing, which was just answering “hey what’s that guy on your desk” with an actual invitation instead of a five minute explanation and a change of subject.

Eventually I just asked him straight out if he wanted to come try it sometime, and the relief on his face told me I’d been overthinking this for two years for no real reason. He came over on a Saturday, and I taught it the way I’ve been trying to teach everything lately, lead with the core loop, hold the exceptions until they actually come up, and it worked about as well as I could have hoped. He drafted badly the first round the way everyone does, took a card he didn’t understand, and instead of getting frustrated he just laughed and said “okay, noted, not doing that again,” which is exactly the reaction you want from someone brand new.

He’s been to three sessions since, which by my own rule means he’s not fully vetted yet, but he’s trending well. What’s stuck with me more than the game nights themselves is how much simpler the actual barrier was than I’d built it up to be in my head. Two years of small talk about a miniature on my desk, when the whole thing could’ve been solved with one sentence any time in those two years. I think about that a little differently now when I catch myself hesitating to invite someone into something I care about. The hesitation’s rarely about them. It’s usually just me, protecting a routine that didn’t actually need protecting from one more person at the table.