When the other side opens with terms you don’t like, initial instinct is to argue them down. Don’t. The moment you argue, you’ve agreed to fight on their ground.
That sounds strange coming from me. On the podcast, I spend most of my time telling you to build bridges — empathy, respect, lowering the temperature, finding the deal in the middle. That’s the right approach almost every time. But “almost every time” is not “every time.” When the other side has crossed an ethical line, or broken faith with you, there are moments when you can’t give an inch — and you can’t even concede that there’s a deal to be made. The trick is knowing one of those moments when you see it, and having the discipline to hold the line once you do.
The cleanest example I know comes from a book that came out last year, Victory 45: The End of the War in Eight Surrenders, by historian James Holland and writer Al Murray.
It starts in May 1945, in a rainy field in northern Germany. A German delegation arrives to see Field Marshal Bernard Montgomery, the British commander, and they don’t think they’ve come to surrender — they think they’ve come to make a deal. Their offer was shrewd: we’ll surrender to you, and not just the men facing you, but the armies fighting the Soviets in the east, too. A million prisoners, gift-wrapped. Why would Montgomery ever say no?
He never said no. He just refused to negotiate at all. And the way he did it breaks down into three moves you can run in any hard deal.
First, he refused the frame. Von Friedeburg, the German admiral leading the delegation, laid out the offer about the eastern armies. Montgomery didn’t argue with it. He didn’t counter it. A counter-proposal would have admitted there was a proposal in the first place. He acted as if it had never been said and stated his own terms: unconditional surrender of all German forces in the Netherlands, northwest Germany, and Denmark. Nothing else. The frame belongs to whoever refuses to leave their own.
In your world, this happens constantly. A buyer opens with "let's talk about price" when the real issue is scope. Don't argue that price isn't the issue — that's arguing inside their frame. Talk about scope, keep talking about scope, and when they drag you back to price, talk about scope again. A vendor sends over "our standard contract" as if the terms are settled and the only question is your signature. Don't redline it clause by clause inside their document — that concedes their paper is the starting point. Come back with the three terms that actually matter to you and make the conversation about those. Opposing counsel frames the case as "how much will it take to make this go away," when the real question is whether they have a case at all. Don't name a number. Talk about the holes in their proof. In every one of these, the other side has handed you the question they want answered — and the move is to answer a different one.
Second, he made the alternative a picture, not a number. After laying out his terms, Montgomery added one flat sentence — if you don't sign, your soldiers and civilians may be killed — and moved on. Your leverage isn't how badly you want the deal; it's how unbearable you can make the alternative look. A BATNA is not a spreadsheet. It's an image of the other side's world if they walk away — so paint it. In your world, the move is to be vivid and honest at the same time — not vague, not ominous. "We're considering other options" is a spreadsheet, and it's easy to wave off. If you genuinely have another vendor lined up, paint it: what next quarter actually looks like with them instead, the timeline you're already working against. You're not threatening anyone — you're showing the other side the real picture so they can make their own call. Same in reverse. When you want to keep someone good, "the market's competitive" is noise. What lands is the concrete picture of what's here: the projects they'd be handing off, the clients who ask for them by name, the work they'd actually miss. Specific and true beats vague and dramatic every time.
Third, he controlled the clock. Von Friedeburg said he needed to consult his superiors and asked for 48 hours. Montgomery gave him 24. Every extra hour you hand the other side is an hour they can use to talk themselves out of the deal. The calendar is a concession — don’t give it away for free.
None of this is how you should run most negotiations. Almost every deal you walk into should be a conversation between peers, and you should want it that way. These moves are for the rare table where the other side has broken faith or crossed a line.
But the hard part isn’t the moves — it’s the nerve to make them. So the next time someone hands you terms you don’t like, ask yourself before you respond: should I argue inside their frame, or set my own?
Remember: negotiation is life.
– Gene
