Page 62 of Negotiation Tactics

I glance at my calendar on the computer even though I know I am. “I am, but what is this about?”

He hums thoughtfully. “Just a few things I’d like to touch base on.”

Well, that’s not cryptic at all. I thought we weren’t revisiting the case until November, but I don’t voice that. It’s probably nothing important, likely a missed formality or an extra signature I need to give. For some reason, I don’t think he will tell me what it is over the phone though, so I don’t ask. “Okay.”

“Great. Let the reception desk know when you arrive,” he reminds me and hangs up.

I study the painting on the wall for things that I might have missed. That was weird. What would Devon Holidays possibly want when they already won? For now. Or are they planning to change the clause, after we already signed? As if I’d let them do that and screw their employees over even more.

I’m still wondering what the hell this is about as I finish my report and head out for lunch, but after I share with the rest what happened and they are just as baffled as me, I give up on the subject. Whatever the reason is for Brady calling me, I guess I’ll find out this afternoon.

Brady welcomes me into the conference room where I met Alistair the first time I was here. The hardwood, the fancy round table, the collage of photos of the company’s hotels, everything is exactly the same as it was back then. Except for the extra people.

Mr. Wallis and two women I assume are also part of the commission are sitting on the left side of the table, folders spread out in front of them.

“Please, take a sit, Josh,” Brady invites me, indicating the chair next to the one his jacket is draped over.

“Thanks.”

Since I didn’t bring any materials, I find my hands a little too unoccupied, so I fold them in my lap. Being here again makes me nervus and not in a good way, but at least whatever this is leading up to will become apparent in the next thirty minutes or so. Maybe I should have phoned Brady and asked, but I was too busy freaking out and putting together a plan in case Devon Holidays tries to change the terms of the deal for the worse.

“Barry?” Brady says, tilting his head at the older man. “Let’s not keep Josh on his toes. He looks like he’s standing in line for the guillotine and not sitting in our lovely office. Give him the rundown.”

Mr. Wallis smiles at me and I give him my full attention. Here we go, the assholes are about to show just how asshole-y they are. I bet they want to increase the pay cut or double down on the moving cost subsidiary, but boy, are they in for a ride. I’m so ready for this.

“We would like to amend a few of the clauses of our agreement,” Mr. Wallis starts.

My blood boils and my pulse thumps loudly in my ears. I fucking knew it! Grade-A assholes.

Mr. Wallis must recognize my murderous intent, because he lifts his hand and shushes me just as I am about to tell them to fuck off. “Please hold that thought until I’ve gone over the proposed changes.”

I close my eyes and squeeze my hands in my lap, feeling my nails dig into my palms. “Okay, fine. Let’s hear them,” I say, proud that it comes out somewhat civil.

“We are aware that contract amendments are not acceptable practice, so first off, we’d like to nullify the current agreement between our two sides.” He slides the document toward me. The signature field already has the Devon Holidays’ stamp and Brady’s signature. “Of course, because Devon Holidays is making that demand, we will compensate all employees affected by the pay cuts that took effect this month.” I narrow my eyes at him, demanding an explanation. If they are going back on the contract and willing to pay back the difference, then whatever changes they want to make are probably worse than I thought. “As for the amendments”—he pushes forward the second document—“we agree to your original terms. Wehave identified areas where we can make budget cuts without affecting the monetary compensation we offer to our employees.”

I shoot up from my chair, my heart threatening to poke a hole through my chest, and jump out. “What?”

They can’t be serious! They are fucking with me!

I scramble to grab the papers, needing to see this in ink to believe it. Just like Mr. Wallis said, Devon Holiday’s stamp and Brady’s signature sit under the terms of my original proposal. I’m stumbled for words, my brain working overtime to make sense of what makes absolutely no fucking sense. Devon Holidays got what they wanted. They won. All they needed to do was wait until November, then delay the renegotiation discussions indefinitely.So why the fuck are they sabotaging themselves by suddenly wanting to do the right thing?

“If this is a joke—”

“It’s not a joke, Josh, I assure you,” Brady chips in, chuckling. I shift my gaze to him and he shoots me an impish grin that makes his brown eyes light up, then directs my attention back to the document. “In addition, we will be offering a twenty percent increase to those who volunteer to relocate to one of our two new locations. The moving grant stays and we are throwing in a one-year language course paid for by Devon Holidays as a bonus. We are also introducing an upskilling program, so anyone at entry level, regardless of area, can apply and train to become a chef or hospitality manager or an event coordinator.”

With my breath held, I skim through the contract and find the added clauses. I’m left wide-eyed and I don’t really know what to say as I bounce my eyes between Brady and the three members of the commission. This is crazy. They’ve all lost their minds.Fuuuuuuck.

My heart will burst. From shock, from joy, from how unbelievable this is. Did I overwork myself again and pass out and this is all a dream? I pinch my thigh discreetly, wincing at the sharp pain. Holy shit. It’s real. It’s really happening. What the fuck do I do now?

Steepling his hands, Mr. Wallis holds my gaze. “If this is satisfactory for the union, I ask that you sign both documents, Mr. Anderson.” His expression is stoic, business-like. It’s such a contrast to Brady’s, but there is a hint of something there, like it’s partially a mask and he’s actually not entirely unsatisfied with this resolution.

I clear my throat and school my expression, though I’m not sure my attempt manages to hide my shock. Still, despite how insane this all is, I must do my due diligence and double-check everything before I sign any documents. “Yeah… I just need to read through and make sure everything is in order.”

“Of course. Take your time.”

As I read and confirm there are no hidden clauses, no loopholes and no undisclosed additional conditions, I sign the annulment and then the amended contract. We shake hands, thank each other for taking the time to meet, and the three commissioners head out with their copies of the contracts, leaving me and Brady alone in the room.

What I am about to ask next takes me a few minutes to actually say. My mind is a jumble and I don’t know what to make of what happened. But I need to know. To get a semblance of an explanation because I can’t rationalize this no matter how hard I try.

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