Never Split the Difference: Negotiating as if Your Life Depended on It

CHAPTER 9
BARGAIN HARD
A
few years ago I fell in love with a red Toyota 4Runner.
Actually not just “red,” but “Salsa Red Pearl.” Kind of a
smoldering red that seemed to glow at night. How sexy is
that? I just had to have it; getting one became my obsession.
I searched the dealers in metropolitan Washington, D.C.,
and I quickly realized that I wasn’t the only one obsessed
with getting that truck: there weren’t any in that color in the
entire area, none at all, save at one dealer.
You know how they tell you not to shop for groceries
when you’re hungry? Well, I was hungry. Very hungry.
Actually, I was in love. . . . I sat down, centered myself, and
strategized. This lot was my only shot. I had to make it
count
I drove to the dealer on a sunny Friday afternoon. I sat
down across from the salesman, a nice enough guy named
Stan, and told him how gorgeous the vehicle was.
He offered me the usual smile—he had me, he thought—
and mentioned the sticker price on “that beautiful vehicle”:
$36,000.
I gave him an understanding nod and pursed my lips.
The key to beginning a haggle is to rattle the other guy ever

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so gently. You do it in the nicest way possible. If I could
thread that needle, I had a good chance at getting my price.
“I can pay $30,000,” I said. “And I can pay it up front,
all cash. I’ll write a check today for the full amount. I’m
sorry, I’m afraid I just can’t pay any more.”
His smile flickered a little bit at the edges, as if it were
losing focus. But he tightened it down and shook his head.
“I’m sure you can understand we can’t do that. The
sticker price is $36,000, after all.”
“How am I supposed to do that?” I asked deferentially.
“I’m sure,” he said, then paused as if he wasn’t sure
what he’d meant to say. “I’m sure we can figure something
out with financing the $36,000.”
“It’s a beautiful truck. Really amazing. I can’t tell you
how much I’d love to have it. It’s worth more than what I’m
offering. I’m sorry, this is really embarrassing. I just can’t
do that price.”
He stared at me in silence, a little befuddled now. Then
he stood and went into the back for what seemed like an
eternity. He was gone so long that I remember saying to
myself, “Damn! I should have come in lower! They’re
going to come all the way down.” Any response that’s not
an outright rejection of your offer means you have the edge.
He returned and told me like it was Christmas that his
boss had okayed a new price: $34,000.
“Wow, your offer is very generous and this is the car of
my dreams,” I said. “I really wish I could do that. I really
do. This is so embarrassing. I simply can’t.”

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He dropped into silence and I didn’t take the bait. I let
the silence linger. And then with a sigh he trudged off again.
He returned after another eternity.
“You win,” he said. “My manager okayed $32,500.”
He pushed a paper across the desk that even said “YOU
WIN” in big letters. The words were even surrounded with
smiley faces.
“I am so grateful. You’ve been very generous, and I
can’t thank you enough. The truck is no doubt worth more
than my price,” I said. “I’m sorry, I just can’t do that.”
Up he stood again. No smile now. Still befuddled. After
a few seconds, he walked back to his manager and I leaned
back. I could taste victory. A minute later—no eternity this
time—he returned and sat.
“We can do that,” he said.
Two days later, I drove off in my Salsa Red Pearl Toyota
4Runner—for $30,000.
God I love that truck. Still drive it today.
Most negotiations hit that inevitable point where the slightly
loose and informal interplay between two people turns to
confrontation and the proverbial “brass tacks.” You know
the moment: you’ve mirrored and labeled your way to a
degree of rapport; an accusation audit has cleared any
lingering mental or emotional obstacles, and you’ve
identified and summarized the interests and positions at
stake, eliciting a “That’s right,” and . . .
Now it’s time to bargain.
Here it is: the clash for cash, an uneasy dance of offers

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and counters that send most people into a cold sweat. If you
count yourself among that majority, regarding the inevitable
moment as nothing more than a necessary evil, there’s a
good chance you regularly get your clock cleaned by those
who have learned to embrace it.
No part of a negotiation induces more anxiety and
unfocused aggression than bargaining, which is why it’s the