Michelle: Most people think negotiation is about finding a compromise, a happy middle ground. What if that's completely wrong? What if the secret to getting what you want is to start by being completely, strategically, unreasonable? Mark: Hold on, unreasonable? My entire life I’ve been taught to be reasonable, to meet in the middle. That sounds like a recipe for getting a door slammed in your face. Michelle: It feels that way, doesn't it? But that's the provocative idea at the heart of the book we're diving into today, Negotiation Made Simple by John Lowry. It’s a book that has been widely praised for making this complex skill feel accessible. Mark: John Lowry... isn't he that high-stakes lawyer and business consultant who's trained, like, tens of thousands of professionals? He’s seen negotiation at levels most of us can't even imagine. Michelle: Exactly. And his core argument is that our politeness, our deep-seated desire to be ‘reasonable,’ is often our biggest financial and strategic weakness. He distills decades of experience into a few core skills that completely flip that idea on its head. Mark: Okay, I'm intrigued and a little nervous. So where does being "unreasonable" even begin?

Michelle: It begins with what psychologists call "anchoring." The first number put on the table in a negotiation, no matter how wild, becomes a psychological anchor that pulls the entire conversation towards it. Lowry says great negotiators don't just participate in the game; they set the rules with that first move. Mark: An anchor. Right, like it sets the boundaries of the conversation. But that still feels a bit abstract. How does this play out in the real world? Michelle: I'm so glad you asked, because Lowry uses one of the most brilliant and bizarre examples I've ever heard. It involves a restaurant in New York called Serendipity 3. A few years ago, they decided to put a sixty-nine-dollar hot dog on their menu. Mark: Sixty-nine dollars? For a hot dog? What was it made of, gold? Who on earth would buy that? Michelle: That's the question everyone asked! And it was an absurd hot dog. It was grilled in white truffle oil, topped with duck foie gras, black truffles, and served on a pretzel bun toasted with truffle butter. It even made the Guinness Book of World Records. But here’s the genius part: they barely sold any. Mark: Of course they didn't! So it was a failure? Michelle: Not at all. It was a spectacular success. Because right next to the $69 hot dog on the menu was their $17.95 cheeseburger. Suddenly, an eighteen-dollar cheeseburger, which is objectively expensive, looked like the most reasonable, sensible bargain in the world. Their cheeseburger sales skyrocketed. Mark: Whoa. That's brilliant. The hot dog wasn't the product; it was a marketing tool. It was an anchor to make the actual product look cheap. Michelle: Precisely. The $69 price point was the unreasonable anchor that completely reframed the customer's perception of value. Lowry argues this is the essence of competitive negotiation. It's not about bullying; it's about strategically managing perceptions, starting with that first ambitious offer. Mark: Okay, that makes sense for a restaurant gimmick. But does this kind of extreme anchoring work in a serious, high-stakes negotiation? Like, you can't just walk into a legal settlement and ask for a billion dollars for a sprained ankle. Michelle: You'd be surprised. He tells this story from his early days as a lawyer. He was working on a slip-and-fall case for an insurance company. Internally, the claims professional thought the case was worth about $35,000. But to proceed, they needed a formal demand from the plaintiff's lawyer. Mark: And let me guess, the lawyer didn't ask for thirty-five grand. Michelle: Not even close. The plaintiff's lawyer sent over a demand for $300,000. It was, by all objective measures, an insulting offer. The young Lowry thought it was ridiculous. But he sent it up the chain. And what do you think happened to the insurance company's internal valuation? Mark: Oh no. It went up, didn't it? Michelle: It more than doubled. The claims professional, who had been anchored by that huge number, immediately increased the settlement authority to $75,000. That single, "unreasonable" opening offer from the other side cost his client tens of thousands of dollars before a single word was even exchanged. Mark: That's terrifying. Just by throwing out a big number, they changed the definition of what was "reasonable." But I have to come back to this—there has to be a line. A point where the anchor is so heavy it just sinks the whole ship. You risk insulting the other party and they just walk away. Michelle: Absolutely. And Lowry is very clear about this. He calls it the difference between the "credible zone" and the "insult zone." An offer should be ambitious, even audacious, but it must have some sliver of justification. It should make the other side uncomfortable, not furious. The goal is to pull them in your direction, not push them out the door. And knowing where that line is... well, that requires a completely different skill set.

Mark: I can see how that would be the whole game. Knowing just how far you can push. But how do you figure that out? It seems like you'd need to be a mind reader. Michelle: Or, as Lowry puts it, you just need to learn to listen. This is the pivot from the first skill, "Ambitious Competition," to the second, "Creative Cooperation." He says that while competition is about claiming value, cooperation is about creating it. And you can only do that if you understand what the other person truly needs, not just what they're asking for. Mark: That sounds a bit soft for the cutthroat world of negotiation. Are we talking about holding hands and singing Kumbaya? Michelle: It sounds soft, but in practice, it's devastatingly effective. He tells this incredible story about a hospital injury case. A woman was injured when a hospital worker accidentally fell on her, causing compression fractures in her back. Her lawyer, seeing a clear-cut case, demanded $150,000. Mark: Okay, seems straightforward. A classic money-for-damages negotiation. Michelle: That's what everyone thought. But the hospital's lawyers were smart. Instead of just talking numbers, they brought in a litigation manager to a mediation. And this manager didn't start with a counteroffer. She started by listening. The injured woman explained that, yes, the money was an issue, but what really kept her up at night was her fear. She was afraid the hospital's protocols were unsafe, and she wanted to know it wouldn't happen to someone else. She wanted a simple apology. And most of all, she wanted to know she could still come back to that hospital for care without being treated like an enemy. Mark: Wow. So it wasn't just about the money. It was about safety, respect, and trust. Michelle: Exactly. Her true interests were emotional and psychological. So, the litigation manager stood up, looked her in the eye, and gave this heartfelt speech. She apologized sincerely for what happened. She detailed the new safety protocols they were implementing because of her case. And she assured her she would always be a welcome and valued patient. Mark: I have a feeling the case didn't settle for $150,000. Michelle: It settled for far, far less. Because the hospital addressed her real needs, the money became less important. They built a bridge instead of a fence. That, Lowry says, is the power of empathy. It's not about being nice; it's about being smart enough to see the negotiation that's happening underneath the negotiation. Mark: That's a powerful story. But that's a very personal, emotional case. Does this "positions versus interests" idea work in a purely business context, say, between two giants? Michelle: It's even more critical there. Think about Walt Disney's 20-year struggle to get the film rights for Mary Poppins from its author, P.L. Travers. This is a central story in the book. For two decades, Disney focused on his position: "I want to buy the rights to your book." And for two decades, Travers's position was: "No, you'll ruin it." Mark: A classic impasse. Two immovable objects. Michelle: Exactly. The negotiation went nowhere. Disney offered more money, creative control, script approval—nothing worked. It wasn't until he was on the verge of giving up that he finally dug deeper. He realized Travers wasn't protecting a book; she was protecting her father. The character of Mr. Banks, the stern but loving father in the story, was based on her own dad, who had died tragically when she was a child. Mark: Oh, wow. So her real interest was preserving her father's memory. Michelle: Precisely. Once Disney understood that, he changed his entire approach. He stopped talking about the movie deal and started talking about his own relationship with his daughters. He promised her he wouldn't mock Mr. Banks, but would redeem him. He reframed the movie not as an acquisition, but as a way to heal a childhood wound and honor her father's legacy. He transitioned from her position—"no"—to her interest—"protect my father." And with that, after twenty years, she finally said yes.

Mark: Okay, my head is spinning a little. So you have to be this weird mix of a ruthless competitor with the $69 hot dog and a sensitive mind-reader with Mary Poppins. How on earth do you decide which person to be in any given situation? Michelle: That is the million-dollar question, and Lowry calls it "The Negotiator's Dilemma." He says the biggest mistake people make is having a default style—always being a "fighter" or always being a "lover." Great negotiators are adaptable. They choose their strategy based on a simple two-by-two grid. Mark: A grid? I like grids. They make things simple. Michelle: It's incredibly simple and powerful. On one axis, you have the importance of the issue—the thing you're negotiating over. On the other axis, you have the importance of the relationship with the other person. Mark: Let me see if I can guess this. If the issue is important but the relationship isn't—like buying a used car from a stranger you'll never see again—you compete. You go for the win. Michelle: You got it. That's your "fighter" mode. Now, what if the relationship is incredibly important, but the issue is minor? Say, your colleague's kid is selling fundraiser cookies you don't really want. Mark: You accommodate. You buy the cookies to maintain the relationship. Easy. Michelle: Perfect. And if both are unimportant—a neighbor you barely know wants you to join their protest about something you don't care about—you simply avoid the negotiation altogether. But the most interesting quadrant is when both the issue AND the relationship are critically important. Mark: Your spouse. Your business partner. Your most important client. Michelle: Exactly. That's where you can't just compete or just accommodate. You have to collaborate. You have to use empathy to find a creative solution that satisfies both parties' core interests. That's your Mary Poppins moment. Mark: That framework is actually incredibly useful. It's a mental checklist you can run through in seconds. Michelle: And that's his final, crucial point. The best negotiators are masters of preparation. He says something like 80 percent of the work is done before you even sit down at the table. He even includes a detailed "Negotiation Preparation Checklist" in the appendix. You have to know your goal, your walk-away point, your opponent's likely interests, and which strategy you're going to use from that grid. Hope is not a strategy.

Mark: It’s fascinating. The whole book seems to be built on a single, powerful tension. Michelle: It really is. Ultimately, Lowry's argument is that negotiation isn't one skill; it's the mastery of a paradox. It’s about having the ambition to anchor the conversation with a $69 hot dog, but also having the empathy to understand that sometimes, the other person doesn't want money, they just want to save Mr. Banks. Mark: That’s a great way to put it. So if there's one thing listeners should take away from this, what is it? Michelle: I think it’s that the next time you find yourself in any negotiation, from a multi-million dollar deal to just deciding where to go for dinner, you should pause and ask yourself two simple questions. First: What do I want? And second, maybe more importantly: What do they truly need? Mark: And the answer to that second question might be the secret to getting the first. It's about looking for the negotiation under the negotiation. Michelle: That’s the whole game. And it’s a skill that can be learned. We'd love to hear your own negotiation stories. Have you ever had a "hot dog" moment where a bold opening changed everything? Or a "Mary Poppins" breakthrough where empathy unlocked a deal? Find us on our socials and share your story. We read every one. Mark: It’s a great reminder that we are all negotiators, every single day. Michelle: One move at a time. This is Aibrary, signing off.