Because the other person’s answers will be your desired outcome
In this chapter you’ll discover a true-to-life dialogue showing how questions asked, rather than statements made, win arguments. It’s what argument pros call slow squeezing.
“YOU WON’T HELP SHOOTS GROW BY PULLING THEM HIGHER.”
—CHINESE PROVERB.
Bev and I arrived in Zagreb, in the former Yugoslavia, on a Saturday night in November. In our room at the InterContinental Hotel was a brochure extolling the beauty of Plitvice Lakes—16 small lakes connected by waterfalls in a beautiful mountain setting.
A Sunday visit to Plitvice Lakes sounded wonderful. According to the concierge, Plitvice Lakes tour buses did not operate off-season, but public buses ran in each direction on the hour. The journey, which would take two and a half hours, cost $2.50—a true bargain. We were concerned about the weather, but the concierge assured us the tram that circled the lakes every 45 minutes was enclosed, and that a “visit to the lakes was an absolute must.”
We arrived at the lakes at 1 p.m. only to discover that every restaurant and shop was locked until summer. The tram ran only every three hours in the off-season, and the next tram was two hours later. Suddenly it began raining. I’m not talking drizzle; I’m talking buckets. With no place to go, we raced back to the main highway to catch the 2 p.m. return bus.
There was no 2 p.m. bus. The 3 p.m. bus and the 4 p.m. bus passed us by. They were too full with villagers returning to their jobs in Zagreb after a weekend at home.
By 4:30, we were very concerned, anxious, and wet. There were no taxis, there were no buses, there were no restaurants. There was coldness, there was rain, there was darkness.
Sloshing down the highway, we came across a local man who offered to drive us back to the hotel for $85. I was too wet and cold to think about negotiating, and I gladly accepted without a whimper.
Before going up to my hotel room, I stopped at the assistant manager’s desk, feeling some sense of drama as I stood before him soaking wet. Certainly he would be sympathetic to the plight of a shivering guest.
I was wrong. He was unprepared to reimburse me the $85 or offer even a hot bowl of soup. He did agree to explain the situation to Mr. Bratas, the manager, when he arrived in the morning.
Here’s what Mr. Bratas said to me the next morning: “I have received a memo from the assistant manager explaining in detail what happened. We regret the inconvenience. The hotel, however, does not take any responsibility for what happened.”
And here is how I responded: “Mr. Bratas, you may be right in what you are saying.”
Acknowledging that Bratas may be right was both a defusing tactic and a modulating device, setting a tone for calm, nonpositional dialogue. It was also demonstrative of my having an open mind. Having a still center was critical. Criticizing or yelling would only have caused Bratas to become more defensive.
Addressing Bratas by name, I was both personalizing the link-up and reminding Bratas that he was an active participant in the problem-resolution process. I didn’t want him to sit in silent judgment while I spun my tale of woe.
“Perhaps I am totally wrong in asking the InterContinental to reimburse me. The hotel brochure in my room encourages visits to Plitvice Lakes. Your concierge told us that it would be a wonderful, relaxing way to spend our Sunday. Am I wrong in believing that the hotel was recommending a visit to the lakes?”
Bratas had been invited to be both candid and objective with me. I needed Bratas to become involved, to evaluate the situation with me as part of a collaborative, nonadversarial effort. To accomplish an affecting-and-being-affected connection, I sincerely solicited Bratas’s criticism of both my facts and my analysis of those facts. A position-oriented approach was painstakingly avoided.
Wanting Bratas to reciprocate, I was allowing my conclusions to be tested by his sense of what is fair and reasonable.
“I appreciate the time that was taken by your staff in explaining how to take the bus to the lakes and back. Their interest and desire to be helpful is not in question.”
Staff personalities had been separated from the argument. By telling Bratas that his staff tried to be cooperative and helpful, I was setting a hotel pattern of conduct and hospitality that I expected him to abide by. If brought into our discussions, the concierge would not think my quarrel was with him personally.
“Hopefully you and the InterContinental will want to be fair with me. I don’t want to appear greedy and I know you too want to resolve this situation in a manner that is both sensible and fair.”
Fairness, not money, was my primary stated concern. Bratas would not fault such an approach. Not wanting to sound self-righteous, I didn’t say, “Sure, the money is important, but even more important to me is whether I am being fairly treated.”
“Perhaps I should really be discussing my feelings with the Inter-Continental’s management in the United States. To whom do you recommend that I write? Do you think if my travel agent also wrote that it would help?”
This veiled ultimatum reminded Bratas that I was serious about this situation and that the problem would not end with our discussions. I was not “reporting” him to management, but I did want to discuss my feelings with management. Bratas was on notice that he would have to continue to deal with the problem.
“Mr. Bratas, I understand that your position is that you have no obligation to reimburse me the $85 I spent.”
By acknowledging that I fully comprehend Bratas’s position, I was confirming that I understood what he had said without agreeing with what he had said. By not having to reassert his position of non-responsibility, he would perhaps be less defensive.
The words you and your rather than hotel were being used. Even though personalities were purposely being kept out of the picture, it was still very much a person-to-person dilemma.
“I’m curious. What is the reason you do not want to reimburse me?”
My question generously presupposed that Bratas has a rationale for his stated position. This may or may not be true, but the approach would compel him to show his cards and produce the logic behind his stated position.
My core argument was that I was misled and therefore the hotel needed to reimburse me. My three portable points were cast as surgical strike questions that would cause Bratas to respond to my logic.
“Let me ask a few questions to make absolutely sure I understand the facts. Is the brochure in every room because the hotel recommends visits to Plitvice Lakes? Is it the duty of your concierge to assist guests with local touring? Should the concierge have dissuaded rather than encouraged us from going to the lakes?”
These pointed questions were designed to elicit answers that I knew already. The questions forced Bratas to rethink the fairness and logic behind his stated position. If Bratas was to change his mind, it would be because of questions asked rather than statements made.
“I think I understand what you’re saying. The hotel has no responsibility to me because it has no control over whether buses are filled or Plitvice Lakes facilities are closed. If my understanding is wrong, please tell me.”
Again, I had confirmed in positive, unsarcastic terms that I understood what Bratas told me. He had now been invited to tell me whether my perceptions were wrong—a reminder that I wanted our communications to be open and clear. More importantly, the logic and rationale behind Bratas’s position had been identified and contained. This “logic” could now be openly dealt with by both of us.
Questions rather than statements were posed to Bratas causing him to respond with answers rather than defensive retorts. Questions also caused Bratas to remain an involved participant in my argument’s persuasive progression.
“I know that you’re trying to be fair with me.”
Reminding Bratas that fairness is the standard of a mutually agreeable solution, I wanted him to continue to be worthy of my appreciation of what he, as a person, was trying to accomplish.
“The suggestion to visit the lakes was the hotel’s suggestion, which was reinforced by your concierge. The concierge also knew it was off-season, so the regular tour buses would not be operating again until summer.”
Do you think it’s reasonable for me to expect that he would have known that Plitvice Lakes had become a desolate, off-season area?
“You’re right that a concierge has the job to assist hotel guests with their travel plans. I agree with you that he probably didn’t know that, on Sunday, returning buses would be too full to stop at the lakes for passengers. What, however, is the reason for the concierge not knowing the status of a hotel-recommended attraction?”
I had to deal with a behavioral truth: It’s more important for people to be right rather than reasonable. I have reaffirmed that what Bratas told me earlier was “right.” Bratas wasn’t being cross-examined in front of a judge or jury. He alone would decide whether I would be a winner. If Bratas was going to change his mind, it would be for his own reasons, not mine. My job was to cause him to generate his own reasons for wanting to change.
Using the word what rather than why kept an important question from having an accusatory quality.
“One fair method of resolving this situation would be for the hotel to reimburse us the $85 we spent, minus the cost of two return bus trips and the cost of taxi fare from the bus station back to the hotel. Do you think that makes sense?”
A possibility had been presented for Bratas’s evaluation. The proposed situation was not tendered as being mine or his. Instead, it evolved from our general dialogue without any claim of authorship. If it was rejected, it was not my proposal being refused, which would make it easier for me to try other possibilities.
The proposal was made only after the reasoning supporting the proposal had been communicated.
“If we are able to agree, then you can adjust my hotel bill. If we are unable to reach a satisfactory resolution to this situation, then I would like to discuss the matter further with whomever you believe to be the appropriate person in the United States.”
I had reiterated that a no would not be conclusive. Although I didn’t want to sound threatening, I did want Bratas to know where he stood with me. A harsh threat or clear warning, however, would only have destroyed the tone of objectivity I had created.
Wanting to make a positive answer as easy as possible for Bratas, I had suggested crediting my bill rather than writing a check or reimbursing me in cash. Adjust is a word associated with fairness and reason.
After Bratas consented to adjust the bill, I suggested it would be a nice goodwill gesture if my wife and I dined at the hotel that evening. Bratas agreed, and it is with fondness that I still remember the cherry strudel.
Surgical strike questions cause the other guy to see for himself why it makes sense to see or do it your way.