As long as you get there before
it’s over you’re never late.
—James J. Walker
It is an accepted truism that time marches on. It moves at the same rate for all of us, no matter what we do. Since we cannot control the clock, we must examine how the passage of time affects the negotiation process.
Most people speak of negotiation as though it were an event—something that has a definite beginning and ending. If this were so, it would have a fixed time frame. It might begin on a certain day at 9:00 A.M., when you have scheduled a meeting with your boss to ask about an overdue raise. Since his secretary told you that the boss has another appointment the following hour, you are aware of the time limitation. You believe your meeting will end at 10:00 A.M.
The following illustration depicts the starting point for this negotiation as G (when you enter the office) and the termination point as K (when he or she stands up to walk you to the door). It is this concluding point that we commonly call the deadline. How ominous that word sounds.
Assuming that this is an accurate portrayal, when will most concession behavior take place? At points G, H, I, or J? In virtually every negotiation, concessions will be made between points J and K, as close to the deadline as possible. Moreover, in almost all negotiations, agreements and settlements will not occur until point K (or possibly L), at or beyond the deadline.
In other words, if the boss acknowledges the merits of your case and finally agrees to grant the raise, it will probably happen at 9:55 A.M. This reality, that all the action occurs at the eleventh hour, holds true in every single negotiation:
When do most people file their income tax returns?
If a secretary is given seven days to type a report, when will it be completed?
Having two months to write a term paper, when will the student submit it? (Forget the submission, when will it be started?)
Even such a well-disciplined and responsible body as the U.S. Congress passes most of its legislation just prior to recess.
Therefore, in any negotiation expect most significant concession behavior and any settlement action to occur close to the deadline. That being the case, if I know your deadline and you don’t know mine, who has the advantage? If you are a literalist about time (you believe it because you saw it in writing) and I’m flexible about time (“Hey, there’s a deadline, and there’s a real deadline”) who will have the edge? Why, I will, because as we near the point that you perceive as the deadline, you stress level will increase, and you will make concessions.
As I watch you squirm, I can hold off yielding anything to you, even though my deadline is right after yours. The following will indicate how I learned this concept the hard way:
Twenty years ago, I was employed by a corporation that was operating internationally. I had the type of key management position typified by my superiors’ saying, “Hey, Cohen, how about two with cream and two with sugar!” To paraphrase Rodney Dangerfield, I didn’t get no respect.
While fetching coffee for the biggies, I was exposed to those who had returned from overseas, brimming with exotic stories. Sometimes I’d meet them at breakfast before work. I’d ask, “Hey, where’ve you been?”
One would say, “Aw, just got back from Singapore, where I pieced together this nine-million-dollar deal.”
Then turning to the other, I’d ask, “How about you?”
He’d say, “Oh, Abu Dhabi.” I didn’t even know where Abu Dhabi was.
Being polite they would ask, “Where’ve you been?”
What could I say? Well, I went to the zoo … the aquarium—but I’m looking forward to the botanic gardens. I had nothing to talk about. Since young people need “war stories,” I used to go in to my boss every Friday. I begged him, over and over, “Give me a shot at the big time. Send me out there. Let me be a negotiator.” I pestered him so much, he finally grunted, “Okay, Cohen—I’m going to send you to Tokyo to deal with the Japanese.”
I was overjoyed. In my exhilaration, I told myself, “This is my moment! Destiny calls! I’ll wipe out the Japanese, then move on to the rest of the international community.”
One week later I was on a plane en route to Tokyo for the fourteen-day negotiation. I’d taken along all these books on the Japanese mentality, their psychology. I kept telling myself, “I’m really going to do well.”
When the plane landed in Tokyo, I was the first passenger to trot down the ramp, raring to go. At the bottom of the ramp two Japanese gentlemen awaited me, bowing politely. I like that.
The two Japanese helped me through customs, then escorted me to a large limousine. I reclined comfortably on the plush seat at the rear of the limousine, and they sat stiffly on two fold-up stools. I said expansively, “Why don’t you people join me? There’s plenty of room back here.”
They replied, “Oh, no—you’re an important person. You obviously need your rest.” I liked that, too.
As the limousine rolled along, one of my hosts asked, “By the way, do you know the language?”
I replied, “You mean Japanese?”
He said, “Right—that’s what we speak in Japan.”
I said, “Well, no, but I hope to learn a few expressions. I’ve brought a dictionary with me.”
His companion asked, “Are you concerned about getting back to your plane on time?” (Up to that moment I had not been concerned.) “We can schedule this limousine to transport you back to the airport.”
I thought to myself, “How considerate.”
Reaching into my pocket, I handed them my return flight ticket, so the limousine would know when to get me. I didn’t realize it then, but they knew my deadline, whereas I didn’t know theirs.
Instead of beginning negotiations right away, they first had me experience Japanese hospitality and culture. For more than a week I toured the country from the Imperial Palace to the shrines of Kyoto. They even enrolled me in an English-language course in Zen to study their religion.
Every evening for four and a half hours, they had me sit on a cushion on a hardwood floor for a traditional dinner and entertainment. Can you imagine what it’s like sitting on a hardwood floor for all those hours? If I didn’t get hemorrhoids as a result, I’ll probably never get them. Whenever I inquired about the start of negotiations, they’d murmur, “Plenty of time! Plenty of time!”
At last, on the twelfth day, we began the negotiations, finishing early so we could play golf. On the thirteenth day, we began again, and ended early because of the farewell dinner. Finally, on the morning of the fourteenth day, we resumed our negotiating in earnest. Just as we were getting to the crux of things, the limousine pulled up to take me to the airport. We all piled in and continued hashing out the terms. Just as the limousine’s brakes were applied at the terminal, we consummated the deal.
How well do you think I did in that negotiation? For many years my superiors referred to it as “The first great Japanese victory since Pearl Harbor.”
Why did the debacle occur? Because my hosts knew my deadline and I didn’t know theirs. They held off making concessions, correctly anticipating that I wouldn’t allow myself to go home empty handed. Furthermore, the impatience that I undoubtedly displayed conveyed my belief that this departure deadline was somehow sacred. As if this would be the last plane to leave Tokyo for all time.
Even the most experienced negotiators occasionally fall for a similar ploy. For example, do you remember when the United States wanted to extricate itself from the Vietnam War?
We tried for months to get the North Vietnamese to the bargaining table. For months we used direct appeals and intermediaries. All to no avail.
In effect, what they were saying was, “We’ve been fighting this war for 627 years. What does it matter if we fight another 128? In fact, a 32-year war would be a quickie for us!” Americans couldn’t believe it. A 32-year quickie!
Did the North Vietnamese literally mean that? Of course not. Did they have a deadline? Yes, just as the Japanese did when I dealt with them in Tokyo. Were they are under pressure to conclude at least this phase of the conflict? Certainly. But they perpetuated their bluff because they knew that Americans were not committed to an indefinite struggle in Southeast Asia.
After months of continued hostilities, the North Vietnamese finally relented. Just prior to an American presidential election, they agreed to hold peace talks in Paris. The United States quickly dispatched Averell Harriman as our representative, and he rented a room on a week-to-week basis in the Ritz Hotel at the Place Vendôme in the center of the city.
Do you remember what the North Vietnamese did? They eventually rented a villa outside of Paris with a two-and-a-half-year lease. Do you think that this North Vietnamese attitude about time, later compounded by endless disputes over the shape of the bargaining table, had an impact on the outcome of the negotiations? Emphatically it did. In retrospect we can now understand why the Paris peace accords never successfully resolved the war—at least, to our satisfaction.
In spite of their seeming devil-may-care attitude about time, the North Vietnamese did have a deadline. Take it from me, as an article of faith, that the other side—every “other side”—always has a deadline. If they didn’t have some pressure to negotiate, you would not be able to find them. But time and time again, the other side tries to act nonchalant—and the nonchalant posture is effective. It works because you feel the pressure of your own time constraints, which always appears greater than theirs. This is true in all negotiation encounters.
Do you recall the Sears refrigerator salesman who returns periodically with a greeting of, “Hi, there—made up your mind?” Chances are that beneath his calm facade lies an anxiety-ridden human being whose boss told him that very morning, “If you don’t sell a refrigerator today, tomorrow you’ll be out in the elements pumping gas on an island.”
Here’s another article of faith you can hang your hat on: Deadlines—your own and other people’s—are more flexible than you realize. Who gives you your deadlines? Who imposes them on you? Essentially, you yourself, in an activity called self-discipline or managing your time. Your boss, the government, a customer, or a family member may have something to do with it, but primarily your deadline is of your own making.
Since this is the case, you never need blindly follow a deadline. I’m not saying you should ignore deadline. I am saying you should analyze them. Since they are invariably the products of a negotiation they might well be negotiable.
Always ask yourself, “What will happen if I go beyond the deadline? What is the certainty of the detriment or penalty? What is the extent of the punishment? In short, how great is the risk I’m taking?”
For instance, we all know that the deadline for filing your income-tax return in the United States is April 15. What happens when you file late? Will someone pound on your door with a rifle butt and drag you off for incarceration? Hardly.
If you analyze this deadline, a yardstick for your behavior might be whether you owe the government money or whether the government owes you. If you are a substantial debtor who files really late, the Internal Revenue Service will penalize you, charging you interest and a penalty on the sum owed. However, if you compare the rate of return that the government is getting for allowing you to use their money to the rate that banks charge for a comparable loan, you’ll find that the government’s terms may be more favorable.
The real question should be, “To whom do you want to give your business, the local bank at a high rate or the United States government at a reasonable rate?” Myself, I say, “Go with Uncle Sam!”
What happens if the government owes you money and you file your return late? Although you may have to wait a little longer for the refund, there is no penalty. Why, the IRS is lucky you aren’t charging them interest. Yet people who know they will have a refund coming knock themselves out to get the magical postmark prior to midnight, April 15. Some of them goof up their computations because of last-minute haste and end up being subjected to a costly, time-consuming audit.
Ask yourself, “If the government owes me money, why am I running?” Then say to yourself, “I’ll go over my return leisurely, double-check the arithmetic, and then drop it off at the post office when it’s convenient to do so.”
As we have seen, the way we view and use time can be crucial to success. Time may even affect a relationship. A delayed arrival may be seen as evidence of confidence or hostility, whereas an early arrival may be viewed as anxiety or a lack of consideration for others. Time can favor either side, depending on the circumstances. Regardless of these interim interpretations which may affect the negotiation climate, some of the observations already made are worth repeating:
Having examined power and time, let’s move to the next ingredient: information….