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

guess.”
“So it’s safe to say that the outside world hasn’t been too
hard on you, right?”
“Yes,” Daryl said. “I suppose so.”
We went back and forth like this for a while, as I made
him admit that most of us had little to fear in the world. I
was feeling good about my new skills, about listening to
Daryl and then “CareFronting” him, which was the slightly
goofy name we gave to assertively—but caringly—
responding to frequent callers.
It was all flowing, and our rapport was great. I even got
Daryl to laugh a few times. By the time I was done with
him, he couldn’t give me one reason not to step outside.
“Thank you, Chris,” Daryl said just before he hung up.
“Thanks for doing such a great job.”
Before I went to see Jim, I leaned back in my chair and
basked in that compliment. How often do you get that from
a man in pain, I thought. Then I sprung up and strode
toward the monitoring room, so proud I was practically
buffing my nails on my shirt and patting my own back.
Jim motioned me to the chair in front of him and gave
me his biggest smile. I must have returned it with twice the
wattage.
“Well, Chris,” he said, still smiling. “That was one of the
worst calls I ever heard.”
I stared at him, gape-jawed.
“Jim, did you hear Daryl congratulate me?” I asked. “I
talked him down, man. I killed it.”