John Gittus - Universal Guide to Negotiation: “A Management Tool”

Before writing this book, it seemed reasonable that I should justify what experience I have in the subject.

These pages map out the route taken from my early beginnings to the days when negotiation became the greatest strength of my career. It is a vast subject, and real expertise in its application is built up over time. Many dont seriously negotiate at all but seek the easiest route to agreement when they could do so very much better. And it is only by experiencing the treatment of a whole range of negotiating skills that this becomes fully apparent. The route taken from my early days into my career and beyond will illuminate how the subject played such an important and effective role in my success. There is no greater or enduring asset that influenced my progress quite so much. I strongly recommend it to all budding and experienced businessmen and women and others, both in their personal and their business lives.

Netley Abbey just a few miles along the coast from Southampton, next before the better-known yachting centre of Hamble-le-Rice was a sleepy little village. It had the ruins of an abbey built by the Cistercian monks in the early thirteenth century, a castle used as a rest home for the elderly, two pubs, a small cinema closed long since, a tiny infant school, post office, fish and chip shop, a farm on the fringe of the village, and little else. On the outskirts stood the Royal Victoria Hospital, at one time the longest such building in the world, built in an Indian style to please Queen Victoria herself. It served as a respite for soldiers shipped home from the war with mental damage. It was during the war that I lived in Netley with my mother, courtesy of my grandparents, whilst my father fought in the war. People were more stationary in those days so I was surrounded by relatives, save for those lost in battle. The enemy frequently targeted the docks and a strategic railway line running at the end of our road which carried troops on manoeuvres.

The drone of enemy planes day or night would see us rush down to our Anderson shelter. During the day I would be fascinated by the sight of ships entering and leaving the Southampton water and wondered where they might be going and whether I might even travel on them one day.

Queen Victoria arrived at the hard near the hospital one day by boat from her home at Osborne House on the Isle of Wight. As usual on such occasions she was met by a line of mothers showing off their babies. When the queen asked my great grandmother to reveal her baby, she pulled the covers back, only for the queen to denounce her as an ugly baby and demand she be covered up at once! Gran became anti-royalist and left wing instantly, even though she opened two businesses when widowed at the age of forty-five, having sworn never to take a penny from the state. She started a laundry business for officers only, but one day during a dock strike had to row out to the ships herself to collect the laundry when her staff refused to take on the risk. She was eighty-five at the time!

Im certain that the driving forces shaping your career are much influenced by your early experiences. As young as I was, I would often sit on the corner of the street contemplating my future. That I was surrounded by a rather unconventional mix of people didnt offer much inspiration to draw upon! My gran had retired by the time I might have been influenced by her example, and otherwise there was little else to encourage my early thoughts. My aunt worked on the production of parts for the spitfire, and an uncle fired millions of rivets into newly built ships for fifty years. He was never late for work, never ill and never joined any strikes, and this diligence over such a long time earned him the OBE that is to say simply for being a well-regarded employee!

An older uncle was partially mentally impaired after cracking his head as he tripped into the Anderson shelter. A popular uncle would stroll down the road shaking a few coins in his pocket boasting one day Ill be rich my boy; youll see! which was as likely to happen as men arriving from Mars. So not much of an influence there! His teenage son could have played the part of the spiv in Dads Army. According to him we were the last line of defence against the enemy. He had us picking up sticks and stones in readiness to defend our sisters and mothers! And my carefully chosen stone remained ever ready in my pocket until the very last shots of war. Only on VE day did I allow it to trickle through my fingers onto the ground! A woman living along the road would lean on her gate post and ask every passer-by if they were putting it about she was barmy! My grandmother was my favourite and my grandfather was a kindly old man, and a proud member of the Home Guard. He would push me along to his allotment in his wheelbarrow to dig for victory and I would entertain him with my chatter.

That is until the day an enemy plane flew directly over in the direction of our home with the obvious aim of bombing the strategic railway line. My grandfather in rage shook his fist at him, a thinly veiled attempt at negotiating a better outcome that was bound to fail, but then the plane was flying directly towards his house! The pilot spotted the gesture, and turned full circle to empty his machine guns on us. At my grandfathers instigation we got down fast and he lay over me for protection, quite prepared to sacrifice his own life for me. Once the pilot had turned and continued on his way, we recovered only to find what I referred to as those angry holes! They ran the entire length of my body and less than half an inch away, singing my shorts at one point! Smoke and soil fragments were still rising from each of them. Without my grandfathers quick thinking I wouldnt be writing this book today! Realising his mistake, and fearful he would get the blame, I was sworn to secrecy and I kept that secret until long after his death, and very nearly my mothers also. Such a lesson in confidentially goes hand in hand with taking responsibility in industry, in negotiating and in general, and it was never lost on me. The war ended and the reunited family moved to the Midlands to be close to industry for my fathers work, but six years of war cost him his career and very nearly his life, and I suppose mine also remembering that day down the allotments.