ON JANUARY 1, 2017, WHILE I WAS BACK HOME VISITING MY big fat Greek family and celebrating the annual New Years Day feast at my cousins house, I bolted for the door, EpiPen still in hand, after reacting to a pecan that was hiding in some unsuspecting dessert (curse you, sweet tooth!). I shouted, Im going to the hospitalallergic reaction! My poor mother barely had time to run after me, yelling, Im coming with you!
It wasnt the first time Id landed myself in the emergency room, though it was the first time my mother had witnessed it. She may have lost a few years off of her life that day as she watched me drive across town at record speed. (Side note: If this career doesnt work out, I could become a race-car driver). Fortunately, before you could finish saying the words anaphylactic reaction, Id sailed past the broken limbs and chest pains and moved to the top of the triage list in the ER. (An EpiPen provides just one shot of adrenaline, and its not always enough to stop an allergic reaction.)
There I was, supposedly the next person to be admitted, and yet I was waiting. Every second, my throat was scratchier, my nose was getting congested and my eyes were getting itchier (and my mom was starting to nervously rock in her chair). I could have just sat there until my name was called, as instructed by the receptionist, and waited for these reactions to get worse and my stress levels to increase, thus worsening the effectsnot to mention the amount of recovery time I would need.
Im not sure how many minutes had passed since Id made first contact with the woman holding the key to my relief, but I sure as hell wasnt going to follow some rules that were allowing my throat to close and my eyes to start closing too. If youve ever seen the movie Hitch with Will Smith, I was well on my way to that punched-in-the-face-by-Rocky look. On top of that, I was now managing my worried mothers reaction to the whole situation: When are they going to take you? What did she say? How much longer? Nope. Not having it. Not that day.
At that moment I could have tried a number of approaches. Following the alpha-male art of negotiation model most often shown on TV and in movies, I could have banged my fist on the table and demanded better care, telling the receptionist, I want to speak to your manager, or If you dont get me in front of a doctor immediately, Im going to sue everyone in here. Perhaps that would work for some people, particularly of the male, white-privileged variety. It could also prolong my wait.
Or I could have pushed my way through the trauma room doors and yelled, I need a doctor, STAT!a real possibility with all the adrenaline already coursing through my veins from that first EpiPen. That approach might have gotten me removed by security and/or sedated before I got my next dose of epinephrine, a delay I didnt have the time for.
The good news is, Ive had the benefit of studying and practicing negotiation under some pretty intense circumstances, so I was able to pause and consider the most beneficial course of action. With the few seconds it took me to think it through, I walked up to the receptionist and asked, My throat is starting to get itchy again and its been over twenty minutes since my first EpiPen; what can we do to get me back there faster?
And with that, the curtain magically opened and I was ushered into... another waiting area. This time a triage nurse was waiting to do some more intake before I could make it to the promised land of doctors and IVs. In between my incessant sneezes, I managed to say, Im feeling wheezy. Can my mother answer any of these questions for you to speed this up? And within minutes I was behind the curtain, getting my second shot of adrenaline.
Fortunately, after a third shot and five hours of observation, I managed to go home to my own bed for the night. Had I not expedited the steps of care I was to receive, my symptoms would have been more severe, requiring more recovery time, a night in the hospital with no sleep and another two days of sleep-inducing antihistamine doses. The longer it takes to get treatment, the worse my symptoms and recovery time.
On my drive home, I had an aha moment: Negotiation isnt always about cash. I had just negotiated my quality of life. Although Im confident that I wouldnt have died if Id had to wait longer in that emergency room, I wasnt willing to lose the next several days to sleeping off the medication. In addition to costing me time with family and friends, that extra recovery time and lost productivity could have affected my business for months to come. I knew what was at stake if I didnt find ways to work around the system, so sitting back and doing things someone elses way was not an option I was willing to accept.
Hospital emergency rooms are busy, often chaotic places. The person on the other side of the desk has to balance competing demands, so my task is to get an agreement on how my care should be prioritized within that mix. That is a negotiation that is far more valuable than anything I have ever been asked to do by my clients.
You see, negotiations arent always about cash. And they happen all around us more often than you realize. In most of the negotiations we face every day, money never even exchanges hands, yet they can be life-changing. So many of the folks I encounter tell me that the thought of negotiating fills them with fear. That fear is understandable, but if you learn how to handle it, negotiating can help you reduce your stress and increase your quality of life.
Not everyone needs the experience of having to negotiate for their health in such a direct way, but there are plenty of times that you, dear reader, have had to negotiate to keep your sanity. If youve ever spent time around children (your own or others), I guarantee you have negotiated for peace and quiet. I dont have kids of my own, but I have plenty of nieces and godchildren who have given me plenty of practice.
And boy, was I a handful for the adults in my life. I was nicknamed the Negotiator as a child, a title earned from my father. I can make a living by helping people get what they want because I was so practiced at doing it for myself and others. I had the strict upbringing of My Big Fat Greek Wedding (Nia Vardalos nailed my adolescence). If I wasnt speaking up for myself to get around all of the irrational rules, I was negotiating on behalf of my big sister and others around me. My fathers first response whenever he realized what was happening was always, I didnt ask for you to jump in, Negotiator.
I negotiated playdates, curfews, extracurricular activities, school trips, the ability to go away to universityit was all a careful game of chess that I played on a daily basis in our home. If your kids are driving you nuts, just remember that they may someday call the telecom company on your behalf to negotiate a cheaper phone bill.
YOU HAVE MORE PRACTICE THAN YOU REALIZE
Most of my clients, especially the women, tell me they dont have much experience negotiating, but thats just not true. We negotiate all the time, especially with children. I use a lot of child-related analogies when Im preparing clients for high-stakes corporate negotiationswhat works at home works in the boardroom, and vice versa. There have been times when family and friends have called me the baby whisperer because I practice what I preach. The negotiations at home are far more dramatic than the billion-dollar deals I have advised on. If you can handle a kids temper tantrum, you can handle any negotiation with the adults at work.
Even without children in your life, there are plenty of everyday opportunities to negotiate your way to a less stressful life. What about wait times while youre getting your oil changed? Rescheduling your dinner reservation to leave enough time to pick up that birthday cake on the way to the restaurant so that you arent the worst friend ever? Or maybe its talking to the hotel clerk to get moved to the quiet floor so that the party bus of tourists who just checked in dont keep you up all night. These are all seemingly small-stakes negotiations that add up over time.