The Negotiater

Sitting in a buisness consultation for my singing career, my mentor said, "I know you are thinking of having Kitty be your manager, but, really, can she negotiate?"

I replied, "Do you see that leather jacket over there?"

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Flashback: Two weeks ago on the Lower East Side.

Our idea was to improve my "image" by buying a versatile leather coat that would help tidy me up for the fall and winter in New York. The street was rather quiet but apparently, this was the place to be to purchase leather outerwear in the whole city. We turned the corner onto Ludlow Street.

"Leather Jackets here." "Starting at $100." "Wear only the best leather." "Nobody beats my prices."

Even with only a few shoppers out, the barkers on the sidewalk were practically dragging people up or into their shops. Within this block, there were probably twenty stores all selling similar jackets and leather supplies- and for those of you with sick minds- I mean wallets, shoes and belts. This is a family blog. (mostly)

The first store was up a narrow flight of stairs and the walls were covered with jackets, as were the shelves, counters and floor. We waded through the jackets and tried a few on.

The second store, we were more prepared. It was more spacious and certainly more tidy. Our saleswoman, Maria, said that she had a great deal for us. We found a jacket we liked. "Well," she said, "that will be $425." We both kind of stopped and looked at each other. Instantly, "Ok, for you, $225. That's a special deal for today."

Oh you poor, poor woman, I think to myself. You just showed weakness. The blood is in the water and Kitty is going to eat you alive. I say a silent prayer for Maria's soul.

An eyebrow is arched and a glint hits Kitty's eye. "Well, we really didn't want to pay that much for a jacket." She sounds so innocent and nice as she says it. She leaves the bait hanging in the air. I can see Maria as she looks at the bait, sizing it up, asking herself, "Is there a hook in there?-- nah... There's no hook."

"Alright, for you, I'll talk to my manager." Maria walks away to talk to a man wearing a leather coat.

"What are you thinking? I whisper. "$225 is right in our budget. It's a great coat. Why are you pushing her? Don't you want to buy a coat today?" There is a tone of desperation in my voice and it cracks a little. I like this coat. All I get is the eyebrow.

Maria comes back, "Ok, I'll sell it to you for $175 cash. That's my best deal. I had to get my manager's approval." The man with the leather jacket is taking one off and putting another on. (Wait a minute, is he really a manager? I guess we'll never really know.)

"Well," says Kitty, "can we get your card? We want to look around a bit and we'll come back if we don't find anything better."

"Ok, $150." She's hemmoraging dollars at this point and I am well past feeling sorry for her now.

With a little toss of her head and a flip of the tail, the shark swims out of the store to search for fresh prey. And I, the little fish, hoping for scraps, follow her out of the store.

"Well, I guess that's it, huh. We aren't buying the coat today?" I say.

"Don't worry, let's just hit one more store," Kitty says.

The third store is relatively quiet. As we look at some coats, I try one on, it looks good but it is a medium and I really need a small. All of a sudden, a heavy set man walks up to us. He is wearing white sweatpants and a New York Giants t-shirt and a leather jacket. His baseball hat is old and he looks like he just rolled out of bed. He also is sporting a 5 o'clock shadow that extends down to his chest in his front and to the tuft of back hair poking out from the top of the t-shirt.

"Dats a nice lookin' jacket."

"Well, it's a medium and we were really hoping for a small, "says the Shark.

"Oh, naw... dat medium is great. See, ya want it bigger. Ya know... Everyone wears it big." He tilts baseball cap so that it is sideways on his head. "See, all my buds where a size or sumtimes two sizes too big."

"Well, it's a medium and we were really hoping for a small," repeats the Shark. Apparently, this guy can't tell that she's trying to negotiate.

"Aw hell, I've got one somewhere. Look, I just got another shipment in today." He points to a stack of boxes. "Gimmee a second."

"Wait," says Kitty, demoted from shark to confused amphibian, "How much do you want for it if it's a small?" Apparently, we are really going to have to lead this horse to water.

"Oh, uh, I dunno, what about Onefiddy?-- see, it's lambskin... it's real nice soft leather. So you'll take the medium?" I can tell that he really doesn't want to go digging.

"No, we won't take the medium. Why don't you look for the small and we'll come back later."

As we walk out of the store, I tell Kitty that I'm hitting the wall. I can't keep up this brutal pace of negotiation and my arms are getting tired from trying on all these jackets.

We are not twenty feet out of the door when..."chief... Chief... CHIEF!!!!!" First of all, nobody calls me Chief. No one ever has, why the heck would I start answering to it when its a crowded street and there are people yelling everywhere? Secondly, my unfortunate friend is running down the street, his hand is hanging tightly on to the back of his sweatpants in a failing attempt to mitigate the plumber's crack that is being revealed to those behind him. As he approaches, I can see sweat and toxins pouring down his hairy face. This is obviously a poster child for why we should spend more time playing outside in the park.

"Chief, I found a small... come back... come back..." he wheezes.

Kitty smiles as if she planned this all. We find ourselves walking briskly as he prances ahead of us, describing the Herculean effort of finding this needle in his proverbial haystack. His hand has let go of his sweatpants as he sort of acts out the triumph of finding the perfectly sized coat. We are led on by his tremendous Plumber's crack and we arrive back at the shop.

"Well, $150 seems ok, but we were really hoping to pay $100."

He looks like someone just murdered his puppy. "Oh. Well. Huh." I see the pain in his eyes when he realizes that he was negotiating with a master and it's almost checkmate for him. "Well. Let me... uh... talk to the owner."

A small Asian woman is sitting at the cash register. Kitty moves in for the kill. "Would you take $100 cash?" she starts.

"Cash or credit... makes no difference in price," says the owner. "I'll give it to you for $125."

Cue the whistling music as we are transported to the Old West. Kitty is standing in front of the Saloon and the shopkeeper is by the General Store. They face each other, sizing each other up, their hands by their holstered guns. A tumbleweed blows across the road between them. Kitty is wearing the black hat.

"Well, we'll just keep looking, partner," Kitty drawls.

"$110. Best offer."
"Done."

A look of relief crosses the townspeople's faces as the two gunfighters relax. There won't be any bloodshed this afternoon.

"Give her the credit card," Kitty says.

BAM! "What happened to the cash?" the shopkeeper says as she lies on the street bleeding.

"I guess it doesn't make a difference either way," Kitty says as she nods her black hat, mounts her horse and rides off into the sunset.


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"That's a great story and she sounds like she could be a good manager," says my mentor. "But can she do that in the other direction?"