For years, Soviets have swept papers aside and lumbered out of meetings without provocation. They may even act personally offensive, all in the interest of provoking, distracting, or intimidating their opponents. Who can forget Nikita Khrushchev’s pounding his shoe on a table at a session of the United Nations? When people learned of that, their shocked reaction was, “My God! The man’s a barbarian. He desecrated a world body with that kind of behavior. If my child did that, I’d call it a temper tantrum. Why, if he awakens one morning with heartburn, he’s liable to blow up the world!”
Months later, someone enlarged the photo of Khrushchev pounding his shoe, then studied it with a magnifying glass. To his astonishment, there, under the table, were two other shoes, on the Soviet leader’s feet. Now what does that mean? As I see it there are three possibilities:
What we are talking about is a craftily planned, premeditated act designed to bring about a particular response. Was that calculated outburst effective? Probably so. People feel uneasy when confronted by irrationality joined at the hip with strength. They may even be inclined to give in to threats, to avoid getting hurt. It reminds one of the classic joke: Where can a 400-pound gorilla sleep? Anywhere it wants to. That may have been the reaction that the Soviet Union wanted.
Of course, one needn’t pound on a table to be emotional. Even a common display of feelings can be used to manipulate. Have you ever tried to negotiate with someone who breaks down and cries? It’s devastating. Think of your own experience in this regard. You’ve got all the facts and logic on your side as you deal with a spouse, parent, or child. Since your evidence is overwhelming, you’ve got them backed into a corner with no place to go. Suddenly tears well up in their eyes and begin to trickle down their cheeks.
How do you react? Do you think, “Okay, I got ’em—I’ll move in for the kill”?
The hell you do. If you are like most of us, you back off and say, “Gee, I’m sorry I made you cry. I guess I came on a little strong.” You probably go even further, “Not only will I give you what you originally wanted, but I’ll throw in compensatory damages for making you cry. Here, take my charge card, go into town, and buy yourself something!”
Obviously, I’m not referring only to females crying. My personal opinion is that men’s tears are more effective than women’s. I say this because I’m aware of a company that’s been trying to fire a big, husky male foreman for more than twelve months. The style of this outfit is to be very discreet. It does not hand out pink slips or ever call someone in and announce, “You’re fired!”
Instead, it sets up a counseling session where the personnel manager chats with the employee to be discharged about “a life beyond the company’s walls” and other career options. Usually, the employee responds to these subtle hints, leaves on his own, and even saves the company severance pay.
Here’s the catch: In the past year this personnel manager has met with that foreman four times. On each occasion he has attempted to cue him that his services are no longer desired. Before they even get to the possible alternatives, the big male foreman has begun to sob and wail convulsively. This may be an artful acting job, but it unnerves the personnel manager, who afterward always mumbles to a peer, “Look—if you want to fire him, go to it. I can’t!” Recently I learned that the outfit has given up on these exit interviews of the foreman. As far as I can tell, he’s home free.
If tears are effective, whether spontaneous or staged, so is anger.
Here’s a hypothetical situation: You and I are negotiating. We spent the morning in your office discussing a software program for my company’s computers. You’re anxious to sell me your services. Just as we are about to discuss cost, you glance at your watch and say, “Why don’t we break for lunch? There’s a swanky place around the corner where they know me, so we won’t need a reservation.”
Ushered to your usual table, we glance at expensive entrées on the menu, then order drinks and food. Sipping my martini, I ask you, “Tell me—what were you thinking of charging for this software program?”
You answer, “Well, to be frank with you, Herb, I was thinking about $240,000.”
I explode. I become apoplectic. Raising my voice, I exclaim, “What are you trying to pull? Are you crazy? An astronomical $240,000? What do you think I am?”
Embarrassed, since everyone’s staring at us, you cover your lips and murmur, “Shhhh!”
I raise my voice another decibel. “You really must be out of your mind! That’s highway robbery!”
You now feel like crawling under the table, for many diners in the establishment know you, though they don’t know me. The maitre d’ is staring at you not knowing what to do. Even our waiter with the flaming shashlik sword hesitates to approach us. He’s afraid he might get hurt. You know in your gut that onlookers are asking themselves, “What did he say to provoke that guy? Was he trying to cheat him?” I’ve publicly intimidated you Soviet-style, with feigned outrage. Should you ever talk to me again, it is not likely to be in a public place. But if you do, it is fairly certain you will expect to get much less than the $240,000.
Oddly enough, silence, which is much easier to carry out, can be just as effective as tears, anger, and aggression.
Of all these emotional ploys this is the one that has the greatest impact on me. My wife and I have been happily married for twenty-two years, but when we have a dispute her top tactic is always silence—withdrawal or, as I call it, abstinence. You must understand my vulnerability because I am away from home so much. Assume that I return from a two-week trip overseas, craving love and affection. Anxiously, I enter my house. “Hello, hello, I’m home, honey! Where is everybody?”
Silence.
After waiting for a response, I try again. “Hey, it’s me. I’m here. Anybody home?”
Silence.
Finally, after what seems like an interminable delay, my wife appears. She seems very reserved and indifferent to my arrival. Nevertheless, I rush up to her and announce, “Honey, it’s me! I’m home!”
Silence.
“What’s the matter honey? Anybody sick? Anybody die? What’s wrong?”
Silence.
Her face is expressionless and she’s looking right through me. What am I thinking? “Oh, oh, she knows something I don’t know. I know what I’ll do. I’ll confess.” Now what if I confess to the wrong thing? I’ll go from one problem to two problems very quickly.
When you give someone the silent treatment you often force the other person to talk, if only out of discomfort. They inadvertently give you information you might otherwise not receive. Consequently, there is a favorable shift in the balance of power.
There are many other emotional tactics that are often in evidence. Laughter is one. If you decide not to discuss anything seriously; if you choose to change the subject; or if you elect to put someone down, a burst of derisive laughter is as devastating as the swish of a samurai sword.
Supposing you are holding a garage sale and I stop by on a weekend to examine your merchandise. You have an old sled upon which there is a handwritten piece of paper that says, “Rare antique—make an offer.” Since Citizen Kane was my all-time favorite movie, I want to make this “Rosebud” mine. As you approach I blurt out, “I’ll give you $7 for the sled.”
For some reason unknown to me, you suddenly burst out laughing. What am I thinking? “What’s so funny? … Maybe the zipper on my pants is open? … Gee, I didn’t mean to start so low for a genuine rare antique!” One would have to be very secure about their appearance and knowledge of old sleds not to raise their offer if they really wanted this object.
Walking out is another emotional gambit. Especially if it’s unexpected, a precipitous withdrawal may startle and embarrass the side left behind. It raises additional issues and problems and creates uncertainty about the future.
Imagine this situation: A husband and wife meet after work at a quiet restaurant for dinner. Halfway through the meal she informs him of a wonderful promotion, with a 50 percent salary increase, that has been offered her if she relocates to a different part of the country. From his expression, it is apparent that he does not share her pride and excitement.
He remarks, “But what about me and my job?”
She responds, “Don’t worry—you can come with me. As for that job, you can equal it anywhere!”
Suddenly, without warning, he curtly says, “Excuse me.” He stands up and walks toward the door.
Five minutes after the unexpected departure, amidst her conflicting feelings, she is thinking about what happened and evaluating her current situation:
Did he leave because he was upset?
Is he all right?
Maybe he only went to put money in the parking meter.
Perhaps he’s in the rest room or making a phone call.
Did I say anything to hurt him?
Is he depressed or just envious?
Do I have sufficient cash to pay the bill?
Did he have an accident?
Has he left me for good?
Is he coming back?
How will I get home?
To further increase her anxiety, the waiter asks, “Should I serve both entrées now or hold them under the keep-hot lights until your friend returns?”
Speaking of raising anxiety, the veiled threat is a potent weapon. It makes use of the other side’s imagination because what they think might happen is always more frightening than what could happen. You see, if an opponent believes someone has the capacity to execute a threat, the threat perceived is more fearsome than the threat enacted.
For instance, if I were involved in an adversary negotiation with you and wanted to elevate your stress level, I would adroitly use ambiguities and generalities. I’d never say the equivalent of “I’ll fracture your right index finger!” That’s not only too specific, but it’s downright boorish. Instead, I’d look you right in the eye and say, ”I never forget a face, and I always pay my debts!” Who knows what that even means? Yet if you thought I had the capacity and determination and was crazy enough, it might affect your composure.
Of course, a shrewd Soviet will rarely carry out a threat—only enough to keep his power credible; because once the threat is enacted, the stress is reduced and the other side adjust and copes.
In 1979, there was the possibility of a police strike in New Orleans that might cause the annual Mardi Gras to be canceled. As long as this was credible threat, the union organizers had maximum power in negotiating with the city for recognition.
Once they made the mistake of actually going on strike and causing the Mardi Gras to be curtailed and public opinion to shift against them, they lost all bargaining leverage. The upshot was that the teamsters’ attempt to organize a police union was thwarted.
Several years ago I went to Ravinia, a music festival held each summer in a suburb north of Chicago. Since close parking is always a problem, I was elated to find a space on a quite private road not too far from the event. As I got out of my auto I noticed that the car directly behind me had what looked like an advertising circular on the windshield. Being inquisitive, I stopped to read it, and I reprint its contents below:
This vehicle is parked on private property. The make, model and license number have been recorded. If this improper parking is repeated a second time this vehicle will be towed to Klempner Brothers where the interior will be removed by fire and the auto will be compressed into a scrap cube approximately 1½′ × 3′. The cube will be shipped (freight collect) to your home for use as a coffee table and to serve as a constant reminder not to park on private property.
Undoubtedly, this was some sort of joke. But not knowing the stability of the author, and needing a car more than a coffee table, I decided to find another parking space.
Although there are a great many other emotional tactics, it is fitting to close this representative sampling with one that should sound familiar. Listen to the following telephone conversation between a mother and her mature and independent offspring.
MOTHER: Hello, Pat! Do you know who this is? It’s your—
PAT: Gee, Mom, how are you? I’ve been meaning to call.
MOTHER: It’s okay—you don’t have to call me. I’m only your mother. Why should you have to spend a dime?
PAT: Aw, Mom, c’mon. I’ve been very busy at work. How do you feel?
MOTHER: How does a person my age feel? Listen, I am celebrating your twenty-ninth birthday this Saturday night and have invited my best friends from the club to meet you. I’ve ordered a beautiful cake and bought your favorite food, so …
PAT: But moth-er, I intended to go away this weekend. I told you about—
MOTHER: You mean you can’t find a few hours on your busy schedule for me?
PAT: No, it’s not that. It’s just that I’ve planned this trip and have made—
MOTHER: All right, Pat, I understand. I’m sorry to bother you. I’ll just tell my friends that you are too busy for me.
PAT: Please, Mom—I’m not saying that.
MOTHER: No, I understand. Don’t concern yourself about me. I’ll manage somehow. After all, no law says a child has to see his mother.
Maybe this sketch is somewhat melodramatic, but the tactic is easily recognizable as giving guilt. In The Two-Thousand-Year-Old Man, Mel Brooks does a great caricature of the use of guilt. He has a mother and father trudge through the rain to visit their son’s cave. Upon arrival, they are warmly greeted and invited inside. But they meekly stand outside, saying, “It’s okay. It’s good enough for us to stand in the rain. We don’t mind.”
The bestowal of guilt occurs in close relationships, but it also is used beyond the circle of friends and family. Have you ever asked your boss for a raise and heard him respond, “You think you’ve got a complaint, let me tell you about the cross I have to bear”? Whatever the injustice of your case, his grievances with top management make yours pale by comparison. You have just been one-upped. When you leave the martyr’s presence you feel selfish for even bothering him with your petty complaint.
Why do people use these emotional maneuvers? Because they work! They succeed if we don’t recognize what’s really happening. We say to ourselves, “Oh, that’s just the way he or she is. They can’t help it.” As if they were born with a manipulative chromosome. Certainly most people do not plan to stage these ploys. They unconsciously revert to successful proven techniques to maintain the upper hand. Yet there are some who use compassion and guilt as part of their regular repertoire.
I once heard about an office products salesman who perfected an emotional tactic to a virtual science. When making his sales calls he kept a running stop watch in the left pocket of his shirt, under his suit jacket. This congenial seller spoke virtually nonstop from the time he got in the door. When he sensed he was losing the potential sale, he would stand up and approach the customer, ostensibly to say goodbye. Looking downcast and depressed he would pause during a prolonged handshake.
Because of their close proximity and the prevailing silence, the prospective customer could now hear a slight clicking sound, “Tic-tic-tic-tic.” Hearing the ticking, the customer would usually say, “What’s that noise?”
After pretending surprise, the seller would tap his heart and say, “Oh, it’s only my pacemaker. By the way, might I disturb you for a glass of water?” From what I heard, he always got the water and usually made the sale thereafter. The person who told me this story was one of the victims of this tactic. As he put it, “It was a hole puncher, a stapler, and a calculator later before I realized that pacemakers don’t make noise.”
Most of us would question this behavior on ethical grounds. I present it not to be copied or condoned, but to be understood. Yet when the guilt tactic is modified to eliminate the obvious lie and is used in the service of high ideals, it is often applauded.
Mahatma Gandhi is generally revered as a practitioner of nonviolence, but his tactical means were just a variation of the old guilt ploy. What this emaciated ascetic was really saying to Great Britain was, “If you don’t give independence to India, I’m going on a public hunger strike. Each day I will deteriorate further, and the blame for my death will be upon your soul.” His ends may have been lofty, but the means are just the good old-fashioned guilt-giving tactics. They ultimately worked, stirring the world conscience and forcing England to change her colonial policy.
Why have I elaborated so much on these Soviet-style emotional tactics? Not because I want you to use them, but because I want you to recognize them, so you won’t be hoodwinked. A familiarity and understanding of even the most shady means will not corrupt you. Mere knowledge of evil does not constitute sin. In order to have sin you need knowledge, plus motive, plus action. Unmistakably, I am advocating recognition and not adoption.
Remember that a tactic that is identified for what it is—a tactic that’s seen through—is ineffective. Your opponent may have a handgun, but it is now without cartridges. In brief, a tactic perceived is no tactic!
For instance, let’s backtrack to the “nibble.” Supposing I went through my entire routine in a men’s store. After setting it up beautifully and trying on the suit, I proclaim, “How about throwing in a tie free!”
What happens if the salesman diagnoses the maneuver? He may begin to chortle and amidst peals of laughter say to me, “That was a magnificent nibble. I love the way you set it up. Please, it’s not fair to keep this to myself. We’ve got to share it with others.” At this point he calls out to his fellow salesmen, “Hey, Arnold, Larry, and Irv—come here, will you? I want you to hear a fantastic nibble! It’s a scream.” Turning back to me and still laughing, he exclaims, “You’ve got to do it for them … from the beginning—they’ll love it!”
How do you think even I would react to all this commotion? Flustered and embarrassed, I’d probably mumble, “Aw, I was just horsing around. Give me two suits—full price, of course!”
Let’s stay with the nibble for another moment. Assume that you are a salesperson in an establishment, or anyone who has invested heavily in a transaction, and someone tries to pull the nibble on you. There are three simple counters that can be used to out-thrust and out-parry such a person:
Speaking of counteracting emotional tactics, this brings me to a question that I have often been asked lately. The questioner is commonly a woman executive in business or government. The problem generally develops in meetings with peers and higher-ups. Apparently, while this female manager is stating her opinion or rendering a report, a male staff member will habitually engage in table thumping or verbal bullying by raising his voice or even shouting. The advice being solicited is, “How do you deal with this verbal bully engaged in tactical intimidation?”
Fundamentally, it is important to realize that the so-called intimidator or “man child” is the person with the problem. Despite the provocation, the recipient of this abuse must remain calm and serene. Never try to slug it out with the bully, but don’t back down either. Continue to state your reasoned ideas with confidence. If he continues, lower your voice below its normal pitch. Should his rantings persist, you may not even be heard, but your control will be in stark contrast to his infantile behavior. By this time those present will identify with you and the verbal bully will be an embarrassment and no longer an amusement.
The verbal bully and those who practice these emotional ploys have usually learned this behavior as children. It may have been observed in a role model or picked up through trial and error. Those tactics which led to rewards were retained, and those which resulted in punishment or pain were discarded.
Not long ago, I overheard a child in a department store say to his parent, “If I don’t get a toy, I’ll lie down on the escalator!” Five minutes later, the youngster walked past me with a toy under one arm and a self-satisfied smile on his face. Should such a child be continually rewarded for threats and temper tantrums, these tactics will become ingrained in the child’s approach to controlling others.
Be reminded that when an adult negotiator occasionally lets fly—engages in a verbal attack—it can be assumed that it is usually unconscious behavior. The best track under these circumstances is to wait until the outburst is over and then thank the person for explaining his or her views so clearly and forcefully.
This reaction on your part most always makes the other person regret the outburst, and the person may even become more amenable.
Since the remaining three steps in the competitive Soviet style are consistent with what has been said previously, we can now pick up the pace.