Reverse-Engineering the Fight with My Best Friend: Mediation
A High School Fight Over Song Lyrics, or How Failed Negotiations Escalated to Lost Teeth and Temporary Blindness in the Left Eye.
Introduction: A Little Bit About Dinosaurs, the Internet, and Why Your Corporate Conflict Isn’t the End of the World.
Dear Reader, if you stumbled upon this article, you’re either looking for a solution to a drawn-out corporate conflict that you’re thoroughly sick of, or you just enjoy my writing. Either way, you’ve come to the right place.
The main problem with the modern world, and with business first and foremost, is pretentious pomposity and excessive seriousness. Strained smiles, fake politeness, and hypocritical empathy—it all peels off like dried paint in the wind the moment a conflict hits. The age of the dinosaurs is long gone, back when a business partner was practically family—when friendships were forged between families, and trust always trumped the bottom line. Today, Partners pretend to be these “sweet, nice people” while signing agreements, shareholder pacts, NDA, Term Sheets, memorandums of understanding, and memorandums of intent to intend, embedding so many “legal landmines” for each other that it’s no surprise when the “explosion” happens. And it’s not the legal confrontation that matters. When both sides “fence” with each other in court strictly within the bounds of the Civil Code, that’s a perfectly acceptable story.
But when one of the parties starts abusing the system by weaponizing state enforcement power to resolve the conflict, it inevitably triggers a wave of indignation from the other side and counter-measures. And so, step by step, an ordinary commercial dispute turns into a full-scale corporate war that sometimes crosses all boundaries of decorum, common sense, and occasionally, even the law.
Chapter 1: Vovka, My Best Buddy From School. How It All Started.
In the very early ’90s, when the internet wasn’t even a thing and the coolest gadget was a Dendy (the popular NES knock-off), there existed an unbreakable strategic partnership between two subjects: Me and Vovka.
Our tandem was flawless and as reliable as a granite mountain. Our friendship was unconditional. We always had each other’s back—we fought together, we got in trouble together, but always “shoulder to shoulder.” We got into mischief and split the risks 50/50. Sometimes we got caught and bore joint responsibility.
We never signed anything: not on paper, nor on sacred tablets. There was no “blood brotherhood” or any sworn oaths. We had simply been real friends since the first grade. Our partnership agreement was etched in our hearts and backed by actions, which is worth more than any notarized contract. We were the gold standard of the win-win model. It seemed nothing could shake our alliance.
But, as a rule, the largest-scale corporate wars start over petty stuff, over principles, ambition, or… a single letter in the lyrics of a popular song.
Chapter 2: Force Majeure in a Minor Key. The Bifurcation Point in the Form of a ’90s Pop Group.
And here it is—that crisis moment, the point of bifurcation after which nothing would ever be the same. There is a golden rule: NEV-ER (!) negotiate with a hungry, tired, or fixated opponent. I would add: “…and never argue with your best friend about pop song lyrics unless you’re prepared for full-scale combat using bookbags as shields and net-bags full of gym shoes as nunchucks.”
The subject of the conflict: one single lyric. The difference in interpretation? One letter! But for us, the titans of the schoolyard, this was not a question of linguistics; it was a matter of fundamental positioning in the market of opinions. A question of honor, reputation, and the future world order.
In the absence of access to databases (neither the internet nor Google existed yet), the dispute moved to the next stage—we made a bet. The contract amount: $100. At the early ’90s schoolyard exchange rate, that was pretty much all the money in the world, including the cash we earned from mowing lawns and taking odd jobs.
Arbitration judges were brought in from our classmates. Due to the lack of quality audio recordings and professional playback equipment (the songs had been re-recorded multiple times on cassette tapes), the judges, much like a real jury trial, reached a legal impasse, also splitting into two camps, which only worsened the situation. The public hearings in the back schoolyard drew a record audience. The noise reached a critical point. Conflict escalation was inevitable.
Chapter 3: Hostile Takeover, or The Active Phase of Confrontation.
The thing that no one expected happened. Not even Vovka and me. Two best friends, whose strategic alliance was considered unbreakable, entered the stage of open conflict using physical arguments.
Like seasoned knights, we battered each other with bookbags and net-bags holding our change of clothes. After that, we went to hand-to-hand combat. During the intense negotiations, feathers and down flew (from jacket linings), along with buttons. It was a full-scale stress test of the durability of our school uniforms and our physical fitness.
Having exhausted our operational capabilities and resources, and being in a state of complete exhaustion and mutual damage, we took a time-out. We sat on the asphalt, breathing heavily like two steam engines. At that moment, driven purely by a sincere desire to restore diplomatic relations, I made the fatal, classic mistake of all unprofessional negotiators: I employed the strategy of inappropriate concession.
I blurt out: “Vovka, just admit I’m right! And I don’t need your $100!”
The Mistake: Failure to consider the emotional landscape. I didn’t realize that for Vovka, that $100 was no longer the goal; it was a symbol. A symbol of his righteousness. And my offer was perceived as mockery and malicious manipulation.
Vovka interpreted my offer as an attempted hostile takeover of moral superiority. He figured I had known he was right all along but had deliberately driven the matter to open conflict, and now, seeing the preliminary losses, I was trying to walk away unscathed by suddenly pretending to be a peacemaker.
His outrage was so immense that he instantly initiated a second round of active phase negotiations with even greater intensity. I had it rough: it was at this moment that I incurred the main reputational and physical losses—two knocked-out teeth and the temporary loss of visual contact in my left eye.
Chapter 4: Post-Conflict Rehabilitation and the Settlement Agreement.
But here’s the important part. True friendship, just like a good contract, withstands a force majeure even of this magnitude. Having vented our steam and demonstrated the full depth and capability of our combat arsenal to each other, we, exhausted, simply looked at one another. There was no resentment, no anger, and certainly no desire to fight. What came was bewilderment. Cognitive dissonance. “What was that, exactly?”
We made up the very next day. Our intangible asset—friendship—had such value that it couldn’t be depreciated by any argument or fight. We conducted a lessons-learned session, acknowledged mutual responsibility for the escalation, and closed the bet with a settlement agreement without an admission of guilt or inappropriate apologies.
A couple of months later, one of our classmates finally got the lyrics. My correctness was proven. But I simply ignored the fact; I didn’t care anymore. And Vovka, like a true friend and a decent person, with a clear conscience and without any coercion, showed up with two bottles of soda and a couple of pastries. We “put away” the whole thing together on the school sports field, discussing our future plans and dreaming about what we’d do after high school. The Cost of Settlement: two sodas and two pastries. The Cost of Learning: two teeth and a shiner. The Price of Experience: priceless.
Chapter 5: Reverse-Engineering the Fight with My Best Friend, or How I Became Who I Am.
Now, 35 years later, I conduct a reverse-engineering of that event. I realize that fight was the best introductory lesson in mediation. I felt on my own skin (literally!) all the classic negotiation mistakes:
Complete disregard for Emotional Intelligence. I negotiated with my best friend as if he were a soulless opponent. I didn’t see his personality or his values behind the dispute. For him, our friendship was more important than the subject of the argument, and I didn’t notice it. Now I know that before working with a position, it’s crucial to address the emotions first. Without that, any discussion is a game of chance.
A catastrophic error in assessing BATNA (Best Alternative to a Negotiated Agreement). If the BATNA is a fight, as in my case, the scenario is clearly flawed. My alternative to unsuccessful negotiations was a brawl. And I subconsciously chose it when I failed to agree with words. Now I help parties find their strong BATNA (e.g., finding a new Partner) and their weak BATNA (protracted litigation) so that they understand the risks and can move toward a compromise.
Failed handling of concessions.
You have to concede at the right time and skillfully, not when you’re already beaten and trying to save the remnants of your dignity. You must concede consciously and in a way that the Opponent perceives it as a gesture of goodwill, not as a surrender or, even worse, as mockery. My concession was late and inappropriate, which is why it was not just rejected, but provoked a new round of conflict.
The importance of locking down agreements and the role of a neutral moderator. We didn’t need judges to deliver a verdict; we needed a mediator who would help us cement the most important thing: “The dispute remains open until objective data is found. Friendship is outside the subject of the dispute and is not up for discussion.” This simple solution would have defused 90% of the tension.
It was then, at the age of 14, that I grasped, albeit intuitively, the main principle: the best outcome of any negotiation is not one party’s victory, but when both parties manage to save face and preserve their relationship for future opportunities.
Epilogue: The Mediator as Part of the Deal, or Why It’s Harder for Parties to Negotiate Directly.
Even while standing in the epicenter of the most ferocious conflict, it’s crucial to have someone nearby who is capable of maintaining composure and reason. The mere fact that parties are willing to bring in a mediator is already a huge step toward each other—you could say it’s the initial part of the deal.
Deal is a wonderful term when resolving conflicts, especially corporate ones: the parties, as entrepreneurs, subconsciously understand the essence of the word: I receive something, but I also give up something in return.
The single phrase “Let’s make a deal” can, at a minimum, temporarily stop the intense fighting and steer things back into a constructive channel: to begin discussing the terms of a settlement agreement.
But if one of the conflicting parties initiates such an offer, just like in my school story, it will cause a new wave of indignation/anger, leading to increased intensity of the confrontation, or it will be perceived as a surrender. That’s the psychology of conflict. It’s an external factor, independent of your abilities and intelligence.
My story isn’t just a funny childhood anecdote. It’s my fundamental philosophy, my value proposition. I don’t believe in mediation as a dry legal procedure. It’s always work with emotions, fears/anxieties, expectations, and insecurity. I believe in it as an art—the art of listening, understanding, and finding compromise: a good deal is when the agreement is signed, and both sides are unhappy. And it’s a big misconception that a mediator is a wizard from a magical forest who will make everyone feel good.
What skills does a high-class mediator possess, in my opinion:
Deep understanding of human psychology and emotional intelligence. Anger and ambition cloud reason. The desire to dominate reduces a person to animal instincts. And revanchism awakens the primitive savage. Therefore, a mediator is first and foremost a psychologist who knows how to work with and neutralize such strong emotions.
Proficiency in negotiation techniques. BATNA, ZOPA, WATNA, the Harvard Negotiation Project, and much more. The essence of all techniques: negotiation is not a struggle of positions, but a search for solutions that will satisfy both parties or bring them as close to that as possible. You must separate the people from the problem (it is important to preserve relationships and dignity, even if the dispute is harsh). Use objective criteria (facts, standards, laws, precedents) to communicate risks. And you always need a Plan B, or better yet, a Plan C.
Creating a safe space for dialogue. Without creating a safe space (adherence to certain conditions), any negotiations or mediation quickly devolve into another round of confrontation. The key factor is the mediator’s “neutrality”: both sides must be confident that the mediator is not “playing” on anyone’s side. Equality (no one has a privileged voice), predictability and transparency (clear, documented rules), emotional security (both sides are confident they won’t be insulted, humiliated, or interrupted), confidentiality.
Creativity in finding elegant solutions. Sometimes the solution is lying on the surface, but it’s invisible. You just have to look around, and voilà! Both sides are ready to discuss and negotiate it. But often, tremendous effort is required to find even one point of common ground. The ability to find elegant solutions relies solely on practical experience: what worked in one conflict might, on the contrary, worsen the situation in another.
Neutrality and impartiality.
A professional mediator doesn’t see a “right” side or a “wrong” side. For him, these are two parties who, for some reason, got lost in the labyrinth of their own ambitions and can’t find a way out. Therefore, the main task is to become a guide for both sides: only together can they escape the predicament. It seems like basic logic, but it’s not obvious to opponents: you can’t resolve a two-sided conflict unilaterally.
Practical experience. You can only become a successful mediator through practice. You can read hundreds of books, take dozens of courses, and become a certified or licensed psychologist. But only hands-on experience will gradually build professional weight in mediation. A high-level mediator is not a “fixer” who uses administrative resources and “resolves” the issue for money. If you meet such a “specialist,” turn around and leave immediately: he will only provoke a new branch of confrontation.
Appropriate sense of humor and ability to defuse the situation. Knowing how to laugh at the situation (but not at the opponent!) is a powerful tool. A tool for psycho-emotional reset that allows you to rise above the conflict, look down on it, reassess positions, and see multiple opportunities.
If you have a complex conflict with Partners, or you see one brewing, write to me. I’ll treat you to a cup of coffee, and we can discuss how to navigate your circumstances with minimal losses.
Sincerely Yours,
Business Pathfinder
P.S. I conclude my story here. If you enjoyed it, I would be grateful for your rating in the form of a “like” or a comment. You can also support my work financially through a donation. I will perceive any contribution as a gesture of goodwill, high regard, and appreciation. Thank you.