Negotiating with Jet Lag

I'm summoned to South Korea for a meeting with Samsung, the prime systems contractor for a new South Korean Navy ship. Ferranti had been subcontracted to supply (amongst other things) radar equipment, but at a meeting the previous week Samsung had asked them about "the radar recording equipment." A hurried check of the contract then revealed that Samsung had forgotten to include it in the requirements... but they still wanted it. The only problem was — a standard negotiating ploy — they had no budget for the extra equipment (not that it was very expensive in the grand scheme of things).

So off I set. South Korea is +8 hours with respect to the UK so normal business hours in Seoul are murder for new arrivals.

"Whatever you do, don't have any meetings between noon and mid-afternoon," a Ferranti chap helpfully advises in the hotel bar, "you won't be able to concentrate and they'll walk all over you."

I nod sagely, but before I can say anything in reply up walks Ted, the Ferranti account director, still looking very much the worse for wear after a heavy soju drinking session with the client the night before, one eye seemingly shrunk to the size of a pea — such are the peculiar effects of too much soju.

"You made it! Good!" Ted beams, his one good eye almost seeming to twinkle. "I've arranged the meeting for twelve o'clock tomorrow...."

And so it was that at noon the following day, barely able to keep my eyes open (being then 4am as far as my body was concerned), that I sat down with the intentionally inscrutable Koreans to negotiate the sale of some radar recording equipment, for which they claimed to have no money. Ted had helpfully told me that these Koreans were particularly difficult to negotiate with as they had learned how to overcome the threat of "loss of face" — "I cannot accept this... I will lose face badly for this failure, but I would lose more face if I accepted your proposal." How helpful.

The only other piece of advice I received before the meeting was "Watch out for the silences — they know they make westerners very uncomfortable and tend to lead them into offering concessions they shouldn't make, just to break the silence." I nodded sagely — or sleepily, I can't recall.

And so it was that after various courtesies and formalities, the technical discussions and then the negotiations began. I made my offer, they wanted a discount. What did they think was worth a discount? The promise to buy more equipment "later". No deal — at least not like that. I knew the finance problem was with the first delivery, so I offered to reduce the price on the first if I could add the discount to the second and so maintain the nominal total price.

Silence. A very, very long silence. I raised my eyes to the portrait on the wall. I let them rest there... and promptly fell asleep — fortunately with my eyes still open.

Sometime later, the Koreans started talking again and I placidly rejoined the conversation. There was more haggling, but I was too tired to do anything than out-stare them. A deal was done — on my terms.

"You handled that very well, especially the silences," Ted said on the way out.

"I fell asleep," I told him.

"Whatever works!"