Another Way to Negotiate

Another way to Negotiate

After reviewing a recent video about how to properly negotiate for a house in Israel, I recalled my own negotiations - many years ago when things were a bit different.

I had attended a learning center in the north of Israel with my brother. We didn't speak any Hebrew and, of course, this was necessary to get around, albeit many Israelis had a good working knowledge of English. We studied along with many other immigrants from many different countries, England, Australia, South Aftrica, Ireland, Canada - these were the "Anglo Saxons". Others were the "Orientals" from Morocco. Algeria, Iraq, India - basically North Africa and The Middle East - also Europe and South America. The Orientals spoke French and Arabic and the Middle Eastern people spoke some French, but mostly Arabic and the South Americans spoke Spanish and Portuguese of course and the Europeans all the languages they speak. It was interesting to observe the different customs and ways among the different groups. I befriended many of the Moroccans and learned quite a bit of French while I was studying there as well as Hebrew. They made fun of us Americans - our accents - it was funny to see how others see us.  Arabic is not that different from Hebrew - not as different as English at all. The music in Morocco is very similar to what you'd hear on the radio in Israel. We didn't get the Beatles or Elvis - we got Farid Al Atash and Oumkeltoum. These were like the Beatles all across the Middle Eastern world.

I got fairly close with these people - all the people there, but especially the North Africans. I learned a lot of French and I got an inside track on how to get by in a country that was two thirds North African. I  also learned about living within strict socialist regimes. After all, people get by in most any kind of social system you can imagine. It is vital to know how though!

This is not a story about comparative socio- economics, it is a true story and a funny story about what you'd probably do yourself in a situation like the one I found myself in.   

I was living in a dormitory with my Israeli wife and my first child, my son, Avi, who  had been born and was only a few months old. The one bedroom apartment was very small and not really a good place to live for a student with a family. So I went to the Jewish Agency office and prepared to present my case for a new apartment. According to the Law of Israel, each new immigrant has a right to a home there. What kind of home depends on his needs and his work status as well as his own resources.

I had been prepped for this meeting because, in actual fact, it depended largely on "favors" (bribes) offered to the officials as well as any connections one might have I had been told . This had been explained to me by my Polish friends who were used to this approach in life. My Moroccan friends had offered a completely different slant about getting ahead in Israel. "The rusty hinge gets the oil - "squawk  as loud as you can - jump up and down and threaten as many people as possible, and their families." In America we don't do things this way at all. We are reasonable.

I explained my situation to the agent, how tight the dormitory was and how it was not a good place for a new baby. Also, I had a house coming to me by Law. He smiled a broad "Polish bribe smile" at me, I swear I could see him working this out. "There's nothing wrong with the dormitory - this is your house." He smiled and probably was waiting for me to offer him some kind of "favor" that my Polish friends had warned me about. I didn't know exactly what to do, but each second I was getting hotter and hotter and - finally I started calling him some real classic things that I had learned from my Polish and Moroccan friends - and I still don't know where I got the strength, but I started picking up all the furniture in the office and throwing it out the window - first floor - broke the glass too. He left the office to call the police and I just kept jumping up and down and throwing stuff out the window. I was really mad at the hopeless bureaucracy and frustrated by my own inability to make anything happen.

The police arrived shortly and took me downtown where I waited for the young magistrate to hear my side of the story. Israel is different in more ways than one it turns out. "What happened", he asked me as I explained to him how the response to my very real difficulty had upset me and "what would you have done?" He said "I would have done the same thing", and started to laugh and he kept laughing and added, "Don't do it again, it will be alright." The Moroccans were right. Another Israeli had a friend who was a journalist and advised me to tell him my story which would have been published in an English Language newspaper, but it never got that far.

What do you know, the Jewish Agency decided to award me a beautiful brand new three bedroom apartment about half an hour's drive from the University.

I had learned how to negotiate in the Middle East. It's an art. Don't forget, this was all conducted in the Hebrew Language with a few borrowed curse words from Polish and Arabic. It was a full validation of everything I had learned. I was extremely proud.