Some years ago when I was seeking office space, I found the perfect space two short blocks from my home.
I worried a bit on moving in, because I have quirky professional habits as a writer – listening to funky World music and burning Tibetan incense. I was concerned that my neighbours might be irritated by the sounds or the smells emanating from my office.
That was before I met the tenant next door. John Grigoriadis is a very successful real estate agent, regularly closing huge, expensive deals. One year he got involved in a nasty lawsuit and paid his lawyer more money in legal fees than I earned in the whole year – “And this lawyer is an a–hole, I don’t trust him at all,” he fumed. “But who knows, the next guy I get might even be worse! Better the devil you know, than the devil you don’t know,” he advised me seriously.
John’s habits while working are even more extreme than mine. He smokes brutally strong Turkish cigarettes that cloud up the whole floor. He doesn’t play music while he works. Instead, he shouts into the phone at lawyers, mortgage brokers, purchasers, vendors, and especially other real estate agents.
“You cashed the f—— deposit cheque, you b—–d, when you knew you weren’t supposed to! I oughta come over there and break your neck, you f—— a–hole!” was the litany one day. “You cost me this deal, and you’ll never do business in this town again, I promise you that, you f—— idiot!”
Somehow, I’ve never found the sounds or the smells coming from the office next door disturbing but rather, ironically hilarious. Here I am in my sunny yellow office promoting Dale Carnegie programs and writing articles on positive communications, to a background soundtrack of histrionic shouting and vein-popping anger accompanied by billowing clouds of stinky tobacco smoke.
“Do you know,” I couldn’t help smiling one day, “that when I moved in I was worried my music and incense might disturb you? Of course, that was before I found out about the Turkish cigarettes and the 100 decibel phone calls.”
“Really? Can you hear me next door?” he asked, wide-eyed with sincere and anxious concern. He considerately waved away a thick plume of smoke. “I’m not disturbing you, am I?”
“No, it makes me laugh,” I admitted. “It’s like I’m living in a situation comedy and you are the most extreme character in the piece. And the tobacco smoke reminds me of the Pall Malls my mother used to smoke, so I don’t even mind that.”
One day, we reached the ironic extreme. Returning from a meeting about a happy community event, I passed John’s door to hear him screaming at a purchaser. “Don’t you even think about walking away from this deal!” he was thundering. “You go to that lady and give her that cheque right now, you b—–d, or I swear to God I’ll come over there and shoot you myself!”
Holy mackerel, I thought. If anything ever happens I’ll have to tell the police I heard death threats being uttered. For the first time I actually worried about the shouting coming from next door.
I paused for a moment to wonder what Dale Carnegie would have said to my neighbour John. I think Carnegie would have offered up these tips from “Win Friends” entitled “You can’t win an argument:”
- Welcome the disagreement – it could be your opportunity to be corrected before you make a serious mistake;Â
- Distrust your instinctive first impression;Â
- Control your temper;Â
- Listen first;Â
- Look for areas of agreement;Â
- Be honest;Â
- Promise to think over your opponents ideas and study them carefully;Â
- Thank your opponents sincerely for their interest;Â
- Postpone action to give both sides time to think through the problem.
“The only way to get the best of an argument,” Carnegie summarized, “is to avoid it.”
I imagine John’s response. “What does he know, the f—— b—–d? This Dale Carnegie guy ever crosses me, he’ll never sell real estate in this town again!”
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