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A missed flight, a lost suitcase and a shop with no price tags. Tim Billson’s first trip to Africa delivered a masterclass in negotiation, just not the one he was booked to teach.
Anyone who sells for a living has been on the wrong end of a negotiation, usually when the clock was against them. Few have done it in clothes they had been wearing for 30 hours, on a public holiday, in a city they landed in that morning. Tim Billson has. A consultant with The Gap Partnership, the global negotiation consultancy and training specialists, Tim spends his working life delivering negotiation training and consulting to commercial teams. Yet real negotiations rarely happen under ideal conditions, which is why uncertainty belongs at the negotiation table rather than being wished away. Here is his account, in his own words, followed by the lessons he took from it.
Tim’s Account, in His Own Words
Of the many reasons I love my job, there’s one in particular that stands out: the opportunity to work with people from a diverse range of cultures and backgrounds and as part of that to understand what drives them and their decisions. This is, for me, where the universality of negotiation principles really plays out. The fundamental tenets of good negotiation practice hold true whether you’re from Toulouse, Tokyo, Tallahassee or Tobago. Which is why, having already delivered negotiation projects with clients in the UK, Europe and the Middle East, when the chance to work for two weeks with a client in Africa came up, I couldn’t wait. Some of the learnings that I gained from the experience were not, however, quite what I imagined they would be. My journey begins in London on a sunny spring afternoon...
Friday 14:35
I walk into the Ethiopian embassy in London for the fourth time that week. I have everything crossed that upon my exit I will be in possession of the visa necessary to secure my trip. Surely there won’t be yet another hoop I have to jump through? Just a few hours later and to my delight, no more hoops have been presented, or at least none I am unable to vault through there and then. I walk out with my passport containing the all-important, freshly gummed visa. That’s the hard bit over and done with, I think to myself. I look forward to what I envisage will now be a smooth and enjoyable trip.
Monday 18:00
I am standing by the door of Turkish Airlines flight TK1980, waiting my turn to disembark. My connecting flight is due to take off in 20 minutes and in that time I have to navigate from one side of Atatürk Airport to the other, in the process attempting to avoid some of the other 65 million passengers who use the 11th busiest airport in the world each year.
I can feel the adrenaline coursing through my body and I am gently perspiring. This is before I start to sprint across the terminal. Weaving my way in and out of the crowds at speed, acutely conscious of the minutes ticking by and the immutable timetable of air travel, I experience a rush of happiness as gate 210 comes into view. The plane is still connected to the terminal: the only flight of the day to Addis Ababa. My happiness is short lived. Delight turns to despair as I watch the gangway to the plane being locked. I have missed the flight by a matter of seconds. My appeals to the ground staff are met with an indifferent shrug. Suddenly the embassy issues are starting to pale into insignificance. I sit staring out of the window like a puppy staring at its family leaving to go on their summer vacation. The majestic TK676 slowly undocks and rumbles inexorably off towards the runway. My years of negotiation experience kick in. I need the travel equivalent of a Best Alternative to a Negotiated Agreement, or BATNA. I head off to make a new plan.
Tuesday 00:20
I am safely ensconced on a flight. We are mid-air and I’m gazing out of the tiny airplane window as the pilot announces that the collection of flickering lights below is Addis Ababa. This would be good news apart from the fact our destination is beyond Ethiopia in Kenya. It was the closest and quickest destination I could get a flight to.
07:05
A very uncomfortable night trying to sleep on a chair in Nairobi airport is behind me and I’m boarding another plane. Due to an admin error I very nearly miss this plane, but that’s a story for another day. The flight is going to my original, intended destination. Addis Ababa here I come. In around 10 hours I need to greet my delegates and start the first workshop. My mind focuses, puts the travel mishaps of the last 24 hours into a mental box which I have no need to analyse for the moment and starts to prepare for delivery of my first negotiation workshop in Africa.
“There are two prices for everything: the market price and whatever anyone is willing to pay.”
09:48
The baggage reclaim carousel stops. There are two people standing hopefully beside it. One of them is me. I exchange a glance with my carousel buddy and a moment of understanding passes between us. Out of the entire plane, we are the two who are jinxed. Our bags haven’t made it. I have no idea what items my fellow baggage claimant is missing by not having his case arrive with him on that flight. For me it’s pretty much everything I need: suits, shirts, shoes, workshop equipment, toiletries. My laptop remains in my hand luggage. This is not providing a huge amount of comfort. Next stop, the lost baggage counter. Here I discover my case should arrive at 16:30. By the time it has been unloaded, passed through to lost baggage, claimed and brought back to the hotel, there isn’t enough time.
11:15
During the journey from the airport to the hotel my mind goes over all the possible options. As I arrive I spot a menswear store next to the hotel. The mannequins in the windows are wearing suits. Finally, a ray of sunshine.
Later that morning
A thought occurs to me. Maybe, just maybe I am going to get away with this. I’ve pulled together some kit from the hotel and my client has sent me someone from their office to help, bringing kit with them too. If the hotel projector will work with my laptop, I just need to finish setting up the room and of course pop next door to get some more suitable clothes than the ones I have been wearing for the past 30 hours. My client contact agrees to come clothes shopping with me to help overcome language barriers and ensure I get what I need. So, I head back to my room, collect my wallet from the hotel safe and go to meet my chaperone with a little bit of a spring in my step.
14:20
The hotel room door finally gives way. The hotel handyman who has spent the last couple of minutes kicking and charging at the door is on the other side of it. He immediately bends down to pick up the broken piece of the locking mechanism that had sheared off as I entered the room and subsequently made it impossible for me to leave it. I step over the broken pieces and head downstairs.
My contact is sitting in the lobby looking annoyed. He gestures to his watch, shakes his head and asks why if I was in such a hurry I took so long? He introduces me to his driver and suggests I should use the ATM in the hotel. My first question is to gauge how much money I need. Ideally, I don’t want to be left with Ethiopian birr at the end of my trip. We settle on an amount, which requires three separate withdrawals from the machine due to its limits. The next question is, why do we need a driver when there is a store next door? Another shake of the head. Today is a public holiday and most shops are shut. In fact our chances of finding anything open that is suitable are low. I gulp. My step is not so springy now.
15:15
The neon light flashing in the doorway says OPEN and although the mannequins in the window are not dressed in quite the clothing I would normally gravitate towards, this menswear store looks like my only hope. As we step out of the car I take my guide to one side. The negotiator in me wants to ensure I’m not going to be exploited in this situation. I want him to ensure I pay local prices and the store staff don’t understand my desperation. He smiles to reassure me and we enter the store. He greets an employee with a barrage of instructions in Amharic, the local language. The staff leap into action grabbing suits off the rails. Good job, I say to my guide. What did you tell them? “That you are desperate and need a full outfit as quickly as possible”, he replies. The negotiator in me dies a quick yet painful death and I feel any power I might ever conceivably have had leave the room. Almost as quickly, the sales clerk produces a very shiny light gray suit that may, or may not, be in my size.
15:31
The changing room is a small box in the corner of the shopfloor. It has a little hatch that allows you to speak to the store staff yet retain your modesty. I pull the hatch open and beckon over my guide. “I’ve got the outfit I want, but nothing has prices on?” By that I mean it actually fits me. Ethiopia is not the ideal shopping destination for a 6ft person. “Leave it with me”, he assures me and strides off. I close the hatch and start to get changed. Suddenly the background music of the shop is broken by the sound of my guide bursting out laughing. Wondering whether this is a sign of good news or bad news I open my hatch again. I am asked if I want a cup of coffee by my guide. “I don’t have time for coffee!” I reply. The response that comes answers my good news or bad news question. Apparently the only thing the store owner is prepared to offer me is a free macchiato. I now need to find another ATM as the 10,000 Ethiopian birr I have is not enough!
Shortly thereafter I realize my negotiation attempts are not only not getting me anywhere, but are now causing frustration to the store owner. While we always want to be firm, tough and distant in value distribution negotiations, which this clearly was, the desire is never to be rude. It just isn’t necessary and is often behavior misunderstood as appropriate in these situations.
16:05
I have been to the ATM, counted out all 138 notes, the highest denomination being 100 birr. I am now the not-entirely-proud owner of a new suit, shirt and shoes. It has cost me roughly £350, a lower amount than I would expect to pay in the UK. But when I hear the collective sharp intake of breath that the amount elicits from my workshop delegates when we discuss the situation later, what little satisfaction I had evaporates.
Negotiation learnings out of Africa
Despite the bruising to my negotiation ego, which has no place here anyway, the situation provided a reminder of the principles at the heart of every good negotiation training course.
“The more you say, the more you give away”
There was an obvious desperation to get a suit very quickly, but keeping that knowledge away from the store owner could have prevented another trip to the ATM. Now, we can never say with certainty how a situation would play out in different circumstances, but the swing in the balance of power once that information was shared was always going to be hard to overcome.
“Get inside the other party’s head”
By understanding the pressures in my head, particularly those of time, the store owner was firmly in control. Maybe if I had the opportunity again I’d try to understand why this was one of very few stores open on the public holiday. It certainly had no other customers. Did they need the sales? There are two prices for everything: the market price and whatever anyone is willing to pay. I’d like to know what someone else would have been told the price was. Or maybe I wouldn’t!
“Don’t go beyond your breakpoint”
The truth is that the price was ultimately acceptable to me and given the circumstances was below my breakpoint, the maximum in those circumstances that I would have paid. Knowing that number before the conversation starts is exactly why preparation beats improvisation, even when the preparation happens on the back seat of a car.
“Open extreme”
By opening even more extreme, that shop owner could certainly have shut his store a bit earlier, spent some time with his family on a public holiday and still had a profitable day. Whether you are a store owner in Ethiopia, or negotiating anywhere, on anything, remember to always value things on your customer’s terms, not yours. That, for sure, is a negotiation principle that holds true all over the world.
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