Although we sometimes forget this when we're on the speaking side, taking positions without offering reasons for them is treating the listener as a child ("Because I said so"); an enemy ("I don't trust you enough to tell you"); a blockhead ("You couldn't possibly understand"); or a victim ("Just hand it over!"). It hardly needs saying that people rarely respond positively to being cast in any of those roles. (Even children hate the "because I said so" line.)

I recently went to the telephone company to change my mobile phone service. My own transaction proceeded without incident. However, while the sales agent was off setting up my phone, I found myself listening with increasing fascination to the conversation in the next booth. A man had come in to see about getting a new phone. He explained that he had signed up for mobile service the previous week and had purchased an upgraded phone as part of the plan, but over the weekend his phone had been stolen. So, he said, he'd come back to get a replacement. The agent replied curtly, "We don't do that." Taken aback by this impenetrable rejection, the man did what many of us do when the response we receive is out of line with our expectations: he repeated what he had said the first time. "No, no," he said. "I don't think you understand. You see, I just signed up for service last week..."

Unfortunately, the agent wasn't any more forthcoming the second time around. She simply repeated her four words in turn. With growing frustration, the man made one attempt after another to explain his request. He wasn't trying to cheat anyone to get a free phone, he said. He could show a police report to prove that his phone was really stolen. He was more than happy to pay whatever he paid previously for the phone. As the clerk just kept shaking her head to everything he said, his anger began to rise. "Is this how your company treats its so-called 'valued customers' once you've suckered them into signing a contract?" he snapped.

By now my transaction had concluded, but I remained glued to the conversation in the next booth. Why, I kept wondering, didn't she just tell him why she couldn't provide him with a replacement phone even if he paid the same price as he had for the initial phone? Her unwillingness to give him a reason for her refusal to sell him a new phone was obviously upsetting him as much as the refusal itself. Not only did he not understand why a request that made perfect sense to him was being rejected, but he plainly felt insulted at her denying him the courtesy of an explanation.

Undoubtedly, there were reasons for the refusal, which the clerk could easily have shared (or found out if she didn't know). She might have explained that the telephone company provided handsets to new mobile customers as a marketing tool and that the price that he had paid for the phone when he signed up for the service was below actual cost, so that even if he paid the same amount it wouldn't cover the real price. She might have explained that service providers were not legally authorized to sell retail phones except as part of new contracts, but that she could give him the names of some companies in the area that did. She might have assured him that once he got his new phone at one of those locations, she would help him set it up. Instead, by offering nothing but surly silence, she made him feel as if he were being victimized twice, first by the thief, then by the phone company.

The customer wasn't the only one who suffered because of the clerk's refusal to give legitimate arguments. He had kept her tied up for at least twenty minutes in a futile and increasingly loud argument. It couldn't have been pleasant for her, much less a productive use of her time. The company lost even more, as the customer eventually grew so frustrated that he canceled his service, despite being warned that he would have to pay a $250 early termination fee. "I don't care!" he shouted. "I would pay $500 to have nothing more to do with this company!" As the other customers in the store looked on with growing misgivings about their own dealings with this company, he slammed down his check on the counter and stormed out, taking his business to a competitor.

Some might call the man's behavior irrational. He was willing to pay $500 (and did pay $250) to break off his relationship with the company because one of its representatives didn't give him any arguments for the positions she had taken. In fact, his response was predictably human. As psychologist Abraham Maslow has shown in his renowned "hierarchy of needs," all people need to feel that they are respected.^[24] The phone customer felt precisely the opposite. The resentment created by that sense of being disrespected trumped his concern about the extra cost he was incurring. It overrode any reluctance he may have felt about going through the hassle of signing up with a new phone company. It superseded any rationale (such as better coverage or lower price) he had had for choosing the original phone company in the first place. As illogical as his choice may sound from the cool remove of a cost-benefit analysis, I'll bet that you can remember a time when you felt dismissed and had a similar reaction, if perhaps you didn't express it at the same volume.

The positive lesson here is that the more arguments you're able to provide and the more open you appear, the more you confer respect on the other party, which in turn earns their goodwill and acceptance. As a result, the smoother the negotiation will proceed.

That said, what can you do if the person you are negotiating with is as tight-lipped as the phone clerk? Are you condemned to walking out in frustration, $250 the poorer, as the customer did? No. The outcome of their dispute was absolutely avoidable. Every negotiator possesses the power to change the dynamic of the negotiation. It doesn't take any special debating skills—merely the ability to ask questions. In the above case, the customer could have broken the logjam and saved himself a lot of broken blood vessels if he had politely asked the sales agent to explain herself. "Could you help me to understand why this is a problem?" is a vital sentence in any negotiator's repertoire (followed if necessary by, "Would you please call someone who could?"). When you're not getting any explanations, stop talking and start asking.

Offering a simple explanation is a good start—and is sometimes all you need to break through resistance. In a famous series of studies carried out in the 1970s and 1980s, Harvard psychologist Ellen Langer showed that people asking to cut in front of others waiting in line at a copy center were granted permission two-thirds more frequently if they added "because..." to the request. If the request was small (the line-breaker was holding only one or two sheets of paper), the "because" alone was enough: the reason itself was virtually of no consequence. "Because I have to make some copies" worked as well as any other explanation. It was the respectful act of giving a reason that made the difference. Naturally, as the size of the request increased, so did the reluctance of the person being asked. However, even then, "because I'm in a rush" was effective nearly 95 percent of the time.^[25]

I'll share a touching story that happened to my friend Nancy, which underscores Langer's findings. One evening Nancy was spending time with her mother, who suffers from senile dementia. Her mother asked for some ice cream, but there was none in the house. Wanting to grant this small wish, but fearing to leave her mom alone (as her dad was enjoying a rare night off), Nancy bundled her mother into the car and headed to the supermarket. When they got there, however, Nancy's mother didn't want to leave the car. There were too many strange people walking about. Thinking it would take only a couple of minutes, Nancy reluctantly agreed to let her mom wait in the car while she ran in to get the ice cream. Nancy bolted into the store, grabbed some ice-cream cups, sprinted toward the checkout counter...and stopped dead. Only two aisles were open, with a dozen customers split between them. Everyone looked annoyed at the long lines. Many were grumbling volubly. Nancy's heart sank.

She nearly gave up on the whole ice-cream mission. However, by the philosophy we had many times discussed that you should never say no for somebody else, she decided to lay her case before the sour-faced assembly and let them decide. "I'm very sorry to bother you," Nancy intoned. "I know you've all been waiting and want to get out of here as quickly as possible. But I'm buying this ice cream for my mother, who's in the car alone. She has Alzheimer's disease. I'm worried that if I leave her much longer she could become frightened or disoriented and wander away. Would anyone be willing to let me get in line in front of them?"

One by one, every single customer in line invited her to go in front. In a few moments Nancy was out of the store watching her mother's delight at getting her prize. That is the power of a sincere "because."

As we have seen, mistrust is a constant obstacle to productive negotiations. Although some insist that trust is not essential for dealmaking (giving the example that police can negotiate terms with hostage takers), unless you are holding a gun to someone's head (literally or figuratively), trust is a necessity for faithfully carrying out even the shortest-term deal. Even the criminal would be unlikely to release the hostages and turn himself in unless he trusts that the police will keep their promise not to shoot him when he does. Therefore, a primary mission of the negotiator is to increase the level of trust. And one of the most effective ways to do that is through offering credible arguments.

Let's look at it from a commonsense perspective. If one of your employees doesn't show up for work one Monday, you will naturally suspect that the employee is enjoying a three-day weekend at your expense unless he or she provides you with a legitimate reason for the absence. If you have a good relationship with the employee, the store of trust will probably be high enough for you to accept the spoken reason as sufficient. If, on the other hand, that same employee calls in sick repeatedly, your concern over being taken advantage of will be so elevated that a verbal explanation will no longer be enough. In that case you might require hard evidence to support the story, such as a doctor's note. In both instances you needed a credible argument, but the higher the level of mistrust, the more supporting evidence you would demand to give weight to that argument.

The same logic applies in negotiation, which naturally triggers people's fears of being exploited. Fear, mistrust, and opposition are inextricably linked. Therefore, it must be the goal of the negotiator to provide the arguments that will reduce others' fear of being taken advantage of, so that they feel sufficient trust in you to reach and carry out an agreement.

This was brought home in a negotiation I observed between Nan, whose family owns a small group of beach resorts in Thailand, and Heinrich, the agent for one of their biggest customers. Nan had returned from graduate school in Europe to head the resorts' sales and marketing team, which included negotiating rates with the large European travel companies from which they got most of their customers. Although she could speak fluent English and German, Nan admitted to being intimidated by the "pushiness" of the big and often brash European men she found herself facing across the negotiating table. Her nervousness didn't lead her to back down as much as to go stubbornly silent, leaving her with nothing to show for hours of meetings, phone calls, and e-mails but increasing misery. Depressed and bewildered by these repeated clashes, she asked if I would watch her next negotiation with Heinrich to see if I could figure out what she was doing wrong.

It took only minutes to pinpoint the problem. After a few warm opening words about how much each valued the other's long, supportive partnership, Nan presented her proposed contract—and Heinrich exploded. He demanded to know how she could raise prices just a year after the tsunami. "This is ridiculous! It makes no business sense!" he fumed. Nan responded timidly, "I don't want to fight; please don't yell at me," pushing the contract an inch or two closer to him.

Heinrich lowered his voice but did not change his position. "This is totally unjustified," he said. "My company lost a ton of money last year on canceled Phuket trips. Now we have to work together to bring the customers back. I'm ready to help you by promoting your property, but you have to help me by keeping prices as low as possible." Nan silently pushed the contract forward a few more inches.

"You'll kill your business if you do this," Heinrich warned. For an uncomfortable few minutes they just stared at one another. Finally, Heinrich broke the silence. "Is this take it or leave it?" he asked. Nan replied softly, without expression, "I don't want to put it that way, but..."

The "negotiation," if you could call it that, concluded with Heinrich refusing to sign the contract. His last words on walking out were that if she didn't make a better offer when he returned at the end of the week, he would drop the resort.

It was obvious from observing that short episode that Nan was sorely in need of some compelling arguments. However, the intensity of the mistrust and anger she stoked by her uncommunicativeness was only fully revealed that evening. In a stroke of luck, as I boarded the airport shuttle bus that evening, I saw Heinrich sitting a few rows back. He was still fuming and was more than happy to vent his frustrations on an eager listener.

"You can't trust these local family businesses," he said. "They take everything they can get and give nothing back. Nan smiles to your face, but she has no sense of loyalty to her business partners. I understand that they lost a lot in the tsunami, but my company suffered a beating, too. I don't know when my business will get back to its old level. Yet instead of sharing the burden and working as partners to lure back the customers, Nan wants to stick it to me. What's the point of raising prices now? Does she expect me and the other tour companies to make up for her losses? What about us?"

The next morning, I called Nan to share with her what Heinrich had said. "He believes that you're raising the resorts' rates to recoup your losses from the tsunami," I said. Nan was stunned. What was he talking about? The resort had borne the entire cost of repairing the flood damage. In fact, she said, they had used the opportunity to make some improvements, such as putting in the larger baths the European customers had asked for. The rate increase included none of that expense, she said. However, on the operations side, they now had to pay higher wages to attract staff, leery about working near the ocean. They also had to bear higher taxes to cover repairs to the island's infrastructure as well as increased utility fees. Excluding all the renovations, she said, the resorts' costs this year had gone up 12–15 percent, but they were asking for only a 7 percent increase. What was that if not burden-sharing?

The problem was that Heinrich knew none of that. Lacking any justification from Nan, he had done what we all do when we're fearful and mistrustful: he had invented his own negative explanation. If Nan wanted to win back his trust, she needed to share her reasons for the increase along with some hard evidence supporting them. Nan hesitated. Was it safe to share information with Heinrich? Wouldn't he use it to put himself in a stronger position over her? Her concerns revealed her own mistrust of someone so different from herself. If this kept up, they would surely never reach an agreement—and the resorts would lose one of their biggest customers.

In reality, Nan's fear made little sense. What advantage would Heinrich possibly gain from understanding the basis of the price increase? Nan wouldn't be opening up the hotel's books to him, merely illuminating the changes that had made it necessary to raise rates. Moreover, she would be revealing positive developments that Heinrich may not have known or thought about, such as how, rather than just bringing the resorts back to their previous standard before the tsunami, they had made improvements that he himself had requested in the past. Nevertheless, until she gave him another interpretation—and enough supporting information to make it convincing—Heinrich would continue to think that Nan's family was trying to take advantage of him. Eventually, Nan agreed.

She also prepared a calmly reasoned response to Heinrich's concern that a rate decrease was needed to bring customers back to the resort after the tsunami. Safety and price were separate issues, she would argue. If people were avoiding Thailand because they genuinely feared a repeat tsunami, a $10-a-night discount was hardly going to change their minds.

Finally, Nan needed to reassure Heinrich that she was indeed his trusted business partner. To do that she needed to face up to her own adversarial mind-set going into negotiations. When she started off with the negative (and passively accusing) "I don't want to fight," she sent the subtextual message to Heinrich and to herself that they were opponents engaged in a battle—not partners working to reach an agreement. Her subsequent silent treatment reinforced that perspective. Nan had to reverse that negative cycle by using arguments that showed a concern for Heinrich's goals. "Let me explain" invites communication, whereas "I don't want to fight" shuts it off.

Nan needed to explain that she had naturally considered the effect on Heinrich's business before deciding on the price increase, and that she had only gone forward after determining that it would not harm him. She would remind him that the key issue for the travel company was relative, not absolute, price. Heinrich's agency carried many properties around the world at different price ranges; if customers felt Nan's resorts were too expensive, they would simply choose another one of his destinations. The resorts bore all the risk. Heinrich's business would only be harmed if Nan charged his agency a higher rate than she charged its competitors, which she was willing to guarantee that she would not do. If he needed evidence of her sincerity, she was even willing to insert a best-price guarantee into the contract, specifying that as long as Heinrich's company remained the resorts' leading customer, he would always receive the lowest rate.

Feeling much more confident after this preparation, Nan awaited Heinrich's return. Two days later, I got her exultant call. "I met with Heinrich today, and he signed the contract at the rate we were proposing! It only took fifteen minutes! I can't believe it!" What had changed so dramatically between the first and this meeting? Openness—which in turn created trust. Nan's stock of legitimate arguments and her new willingness to share information and evidence had reduced Heinrich's misgivings that she was out to cheat him. He began feeling that they really were business partners.

Nan had the same impressive results in all of her subsequent negotiations that year. The following year's negotiations went even more smoothly, as she had already built up a foundation of trust with her regular customers. Today, Nan has become one of the best negotiators I've ever seen: firm but always with justification. In the process she has built strong and trusting relations with all of her business partners. In fact, she tells me Heinrich has become one of her closest friends in the business.

An acceptable argument is a reason (in support of a route) that pretty much everyone in the room would agree has some basis of merit. In order to support your request for a certain price, for example, you might talk about the cost of special materials, the quality of the product, distinguishing features, current market value, and so on. If you wanted to make the case that you deserve a raise, you might remind the boss of additional responsibilities you've taken on recently, successful projects you've completed, revenue you've brought into the company, first-rate evaluations you've received, comparative salaries across the industry, or increased market demand for your skills.

In these examples, all the listed arguments fall into categories that all parties would agree are acceptable bases of valuation (although the other side may disagree with your calculations or counter your arguments with opposing ones). An unacceptable argument is one that relates to fulfilling only one side's desires. "I need to reduce your payment terms because I'm having cash flow problems," would be one example, as would, "I need a raise because I recently bought a new house and have to cover my mortgage." And there are my personal bugbears: "company policy," "our standard terms," and "the way we do things." (Tell me again what that has to do with me....)

As in the experiment at the copy center, the bigger the request, the stronger the argument you need to provide. For comparatively minor or self-evident issues, a verbal explanation will normally be sufficient. ("I charge more for overseas training programs to compensate for the time lost in flying.") You should come into the negotiation prepared with an explanation for every position you take and every request you make. When the issue is significant or controversial, however, it is far more effective—and often necessary—to provide precise, tangible evidence. ("Here's a list of the awards we've won in the past three years," as opposed to, "We've won a number of awards.") The more written documentation you can prepare in advance and bring into the negotiation, the more compelling your case will be.

Although you may not have to mention them, 'you should come into the negotiation prepared with arguments in support of your less desirable routes as well as for potential compromises you may offer. In the give-and-take of negotiation, you may well have to yield ground on some of your initial positions, and you will retain far more credibility if you are able to share suitable reasons for making those concessions. As we saw in Chapter Five, a sure way to create bears is to imply through your silence that you are accepting less advantageous terms because you are desperate for a deal or because the offer you originally made was inflated. To avoid that outcome, you should base your concessions either on a suitable trade-off ("I can lower the price if you pay in full at delivery") or a defensible reason ("Because two-thirds of the dead tree lies on my property, I agree that it's fair for me to pay two-thirds rather than half of the cost of its removal.") Offering a suitable rationale for every shift will ensure that you retain the trust you have built up to this point.

A sustainable agreement needs a strong foundation on both sides. Therefore, just as you ground every offer or concession that you make on solid arguments, you need to ensure that the other side does the same. This involves both probing and challenging: asking open (information-gathering) questions to probe the bases of the other side's positions and posing both open and closed (yes/no or single-word answer) questions to challenge arguments you feel are weak or miscalculated. (See page 198 for examples of open and closed questions) Even in a dispute, however, probing and challenging should be a sincere process of positive questioning. Probing must never be confused with interrogation nor challenging with cross-examination, which only put people on the defensive. Remember, you are on a quest to understand and to reach agreement rather than to accuse or prove you're right.

The most consistent weakness I have observed among negotiators is that they ask far too few questions. When facing opposition, they will try to convince the other party of the rightness of their position; they will argue, attack, or defend, but they almost never ask why. As a result, they increase opposition rather than move toward problem-solving. The man at the phone store is an example. He started out by stating then reiterating his position, moved on to accusing, and finally threatened the sales agent with the loss of his business, but he never once asked her why she wouldn't sell him a new phone. Just as ineffectually, when many do ask questions, they move on to their next point without waiting for an answer. Heinrich did ask Nan how she could justify raising prices a year after the tsunami but then followed in the same breath with, "This is ridiculous! It makes no business sense!" As a result, the question came across as rhetorical and accusatory, part of a general outburst that certainly did not elicit a reply.

Two of the greatest skills of a negotiator are to be able to ask even tough questions politely, in an earnest desire to understand the other party's viewpoint—and then to wait as long as it takes to get an answer. Clarifying questions asked in a nonthreatening manner are virtually irresistible. It may take a while to get a reply—some people need time to think, and there's no benefit to be gained from rushing them—but in the end few are willing to answer a sincere request for explanation with, "I don't have a reason," or "I'm not going to tell you." In the more common instance that their answer isn't as forthcoming or revealing as you would like, you simply follow up with a more precise question, expressed with the same polite curiosity as the first.

To see how this process of probing and challenging can effectively chip away at flawed arguments, let's return to the story of Rich, the financial analyst in Chapter Three, who had broken his employment contract. To review, Rich had accepted a job with a bank, signing a contract in which he promised to start work in three months' time. However, a few weeks before he was to begin, Rich got a much higher-paying job offer from another firm, and so had tried to cancel the initial agreement. Having waited for him for over two months and feeling that Rich had used her offer to negotiate a better deal for himself, the bank vice president not only refused Rich's plea to get out of the contract but warned that if he didn't show up at work on the agreed date he would be sued for $27,000, plus court costs. I agreed to seek a negotiated settlement with the bank.

The negotiation, which took place with the bank's head of HR and the vice president of the department that had hired Rich, hinged on challenging arguments. To nip all pointless accusations in the bud and focus the negotiation on problem-solving, I freely admitted at the outset that Rich had broken the contract, that he had harmed them, and that he believed he owed the bank some restitution. The only issue we needed to work out was the amount of a reasonable assessment. "We don't understand the demand for $27,000," I said. "Can you explain how you came up with that figure?"

As I said a moment ago, when you politely ask a clarifying question, you will almost always get an answer. The head of HR replied that because Rich's base pay was to be $9,000 per month and he had kept them waiting for three months, they took the position that he owed them $27,000 ($9,000 per month times three months).

The probing question had made their reasoning clear. Now it was necessary to challenge the validity of that reasoning, again through asking informational questions. No matter how long this follow-up questioning process takes, it is vital to maintain the air of earnest and patient desire to understand throughout. "I'm sorry. I don't understand. Did you actually pay him $27,000?" (While you can always dispute an argument by making a direct statement—That's absurd!—or asking a sarcastic question—What kind of sense does that make?—attacking or humiliating the other party rarely leads to agreement.)

Once you ask the question, you must wait as long as it takes to get the answer before following up with the next question in the same genuinely curious, nonthreatening tone: "No? Then how can he pay you back $27,000?" Patience takes practice, but it always pays off in a negotiation. Negotiators who, in their impatience, leap in to supply an answer or give up and move on to a new subject waste their breath on lost opportunities for connecting.

The head of HR replied that the division had had to bring in a temporary employee from another branch to fill the job for the three months they had been waiting; so they were in fact out $27,000.

"This other person was needed to do the work for the department until Rich started?" I asked.

"Yes."

"Let me make sure I understand what you're saying. You want Rich to pay someone else's salary for doing regular bank work? Do you think, were this to go to court, that a judge would find that reasonable?" Well-posed questions can demolish specious arguments far more effectively and with less pushback than accusations.

Once the argument has been successfully challenged, you can then either offer a solution yourself or return to probing in order to elicit a more reasonable route from the other side. In this case, because the bank's vice president felt that Rich had made a fool of her, it was important to give her a sense of control over the outcome. Therefore, I put the question to the bank officers, "We're willing to pay compensation. But it has to be reasonable. What genuine expenses did you incur as a result of Rich's actions?"

By going through this process of probing and challenging, we eventually settled on a figure that everyone at the table could justify. Rich would make a contribution of $1,500 to the bank's community service fund. The $1,500 figure was derived from costs incurred by Rich's actions: $900 in transportation expenses paid to the temporary analyst over the three-month waiting period, $125 to cover Rich's medical exam for the company insurance policy, and $475 (a mutually accepted estimate) for administrative and legal expenses related to his hiring and the subsequent dispute. Of course, there were additional persuasive aspects to the negotiation that overcame the bankers' resistance and brought the dispute to settlement. But it was through probing and challenging arguments that we were able to reach a precise figure that all parties could agree was fair.

To become a more effective questioner, here are some polite but effective phrases every negotiator should have in his or her repertoire:

Remember, your goal is not to win a debate but to achieve an agreement that all parties understand and feel is reasonable.

Let's conclude by returning to our hotel negotiation. To recap, the Empire Hotel was negotiating with its top corporate customers to raise its room rates by 32 percent. There were very good reasons for the increase. The hotel had recently undergone a significant renovation, upgrading, and staff retraining initiative. The facilities and service were now among the best in the city. More significantly, three years previous the hotel had dropped its rates by about 20 percent in reaction to the SARS pandemic and had not raised them since, unlike the competing hotels in the city, which had increased their rates at an average of 10 percent a year. The Empire was currently so far below the market average that a 32 percent increase would still leave its rates at the very bottom of the five-star category.

The negotiation with the procurement head of Company A (who had wanted speed and efficiency and had asked to have internet access set up in the rooms on check-in) went remarkably smoothly. He was so pleased by the individualized service upgrades (based on his own requests) and the arguments the Empire's negotiating team provided to justify the increase that he offered no pushback on the price increase.

Company B, however, was a different story. Although the hotel management had succeeded in earning the goodwill of the local procurement team—even securing the coveted spot as preferred hotel in their annual poll—the Empire's negotiating team now had to face the company's regional negotiator, known to be a bear. The sales director anticipated the usual tough and unpleasant negotiation her counterpart always engaged in, marked by hardball tactics: insults, ultimatums, and a desire to win at all costs. However, this time, instead of either retreating before his onslaught or attacking back (both of which she had tried in the past with disastrous results), she would be armed with strong arguments.

To prepare for the meeting, the Empire's sales team compiled every piece of evidence they could lay their hands on to substantiate the new rate structure: charts to show that the increased rate would still be lower than those of competing hotels in the same category; historical figures demonstrating that the new rate was only 6 percent above the rate of four years previous; photos showing the extensive renovations; and information sheets on the increased staff-to-customer ratio, new restaurant, and various service upgrades. They compiled the evaluations that Company B's employees had given on the hotel's conference facilities and rooms (overall first-rate), photocopied dozens of spontaneous kudos letters, and made a list of the many awards the hotel and its restaurants had received since the last contract. When they were finished, the sales director told me she felt so confident of their position's legitimacy that she was no longer afraid to face even the toughest critic.

Company B's negotiator, as expected, came in armed with nothing but his usual ham-fisted tactics. His opening words were, "I hope you've come to me today with a good price, because I don't have time to play games." The sales director started to talk about the hotel's recent upgrades and services, but he cut her off, telling her just to get to the price. When she revealed the 32 percent increase, he leveled an ultimatum: "I won't accept anything over 10 percent! One point higher and we'll take your hotel off the list!"

Having anticipated and psychologically prepared for this response, the Empire negotiating team didn't panic or immediately start offering discounts, as they had in the past. Instead, they calmly heard him out, then the sales director explained why they were raising the rates. She handed him a copy of all the information her team had compiled, giving special attention to the facts that (1) the hotel had been completely remodeled and upgraded; (2) it was still less expensive than all the other hotels in its category; (3) it had been chosen by Company B's own procurement team as the best in its category; and (4) the actual rate increase from four years before was only 6 percent.

Simultaneously, she challenged the company negotiator's position. Was it reasonable, she asked, to apply a flat percentage increase as opposed to a price based on quality, value, or even market rate? She questioned whether it was fair to penalize the hotel for the sole reason that it had not raised its rates earlier, as the other hotels had. She asked him how he could justify dropping the hotel simply to replace it with a more expensive alternative.

I would love to say that those arguments and challenges immediately won the day, but with bears it's never so easy. The company negotiator had been rewarded too many times in the past for threatening. The Empire's new approach clearly shook him, but it wasn't yet enough to change a pattern of behavior that had worked for him for so long. "I don't care what your rates are compared to anyone else or to some number from years ago," he roared. "I only care about now! And I'm telling you now that I won't accept anything more than a 10 percent increase. Your choice: Do you want our business or not?"

Were the arguments useless then? Not at all. They just weren't sufficiently persuasive on their own. All five GRASP steps would be required in this negotiation. Eventually, the hotel's compelling and documented arguments would be key to enabling Company B's negotiator to justify his change of position when the hotel's team showed it was willing to walk away rather than take a bad deal. But that part of the story must wait until the next chapter.

It is impossible to exaggerate the importance of basing your negotiations on valid arguments, that is, compelling reasons backed by solid evidence. Arguments make the difference between a deal won through force, trickery, or endless concessions, on the one hand, and genuine agreement, on the other. People cannot genuinely agree unless they understand why they are agreeing. Arguments create that understanding. Moreover, through sharing information, arguments demonstrate trust and provide a solid, verifiable foundation for return trust. By connoting respect, they make others more willing to respect you in return.

That said, as we see in the hotel case study, there will always be those who don't want to listen to your arguments, share their own reasons, or give you fair terms. In the next chapter, on Substitutes, we will learn what to do in those cases.