Beginner’s luck favors those trying something for the first time

[Scene: A cozy café in Seattle. Rain patters against the windows. Ava and Jordan are sipping lattes, catching up.]

Ava:
You won’t believe what happened yesterday. I played poker for the first time at Theo’s game night and guess what—I won every round. Beginner’s luck, I’m telling you!

Jordan (raising an eyebrow):
Or… maybe you were just surrounded by terrible poker players and got lucky with the cards?

Ava (grinning):
Nope. I felt it. The universe was like, “This is your night, Ava.” That’s how beginner’s luck works—it favors the first-timers. Always has.

Jordan:
That’s not how the universe works. It’s not sitting around throwing pixie dust on poker hands because someone’s new. It’s just probability.

Ava:
Then how do you explain my first time skiing? I nailed it. Didn’t fall once. Meanwhile, Alex, who’s been skiing for years, kept wiping out.

Jordan (laughs):
That’s probably because Alex was trying backflips and you were cruising at toddler speed down the bunny slope.

Ava (mock offense):
Excuse me, it was moderate speed. But okay, Mr. Rational—if beginner’s luck is fake, how come you always lose at fantasy football the one year you convince a newbie to join? Coincidence?

Jordan:
Yes. That’s called regression to the mean. Think about it—when someone does surprisingly well the first time, it feels magical. But the brain’s just really good at remembering flukes and ignoring all the times the beginner totally flopped.

Ava:
Okay, but remember my cousin Priya? First time baking? Made that perfect lemon tart. Now she burns toast.

Jordan:
Exactly. She got lucky once and now she’s back to her natural kitchen chaos. That’s not proof for beginner’s luck—it’s proof against it. You’re just noticing the peak and forgetting the plummet.

Ava (playfully pointing):
You’re such a fun sponge, Jordan. Can’t you let me believe the universe throws me a bone every now and then?

Jordan (smirking):
Sure, believe it. But just know it’s not some cosmic law. It’s randomness. The same randomness that lets a cat walk across a piano and accidentally play something better than my three years of guitar practice.

Ava:
Okay, fine. Maybe it’s not real real. But it gives people confidence. Like, when you’re new at something, thinking “Hey, beginner’s luck is on my side!” takes the pressure off.

Jordan (nods thoughtfully):
That I can get behind. It’s like a mental placebo. If it helps you perform better because you believe you’ll get lucky, go for it. Just don’t try to convince NASA to let rookies fly rockets because they’re “favored by the universe.”

Ava (laughs):
No promises. But I am buying a lottery ticket tonight. I’ve never played before… and you know what that means.

Jordan:
It means you’ll contribute a dollar to state-funded education.

Ava:
Spoken like a true joy-vacuum. But hey—when I win, I’m not sharing the prize. Beginner’s luck doesn’t like skeptics.

Jordan (grinning):
Deal. And when you don’t win, I’ll be here with science… and cookies.

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[They clink coffee mugs and dissolve into laughter.]