If you remember from Part 1, I had just been referred to a new attorney by my friend Santiago, who was raised in Guate but is actually from the UK.  He spent his childhood here, about 30 years back in Britain, and then returned here 5 years ago.  Not only is he married to a local, but he’s done business here and ‘knows the ropes’.

I met with the attorney (who I’ll call ‘Tony’), he recommended and was, finally, assured that this was no big deal, my needs were simple, and that everything would work out fine.  He was going to contact the other party, set everything up, and we would arrange another meeting.

A few days later Tony calls and says that he’s had some conversations with the other party, everything is going to be fine, but we need to get together and discuss the details.  I tell Tony that I’d like to bring Santiago and discuss strategy before we meet with the other party.

You see, in the intervening days Santiago had been giving me little tips and secrets from his experiences doing business here, particularly warning me about how locals will take advantage of expats in business deals, owing to the substantial difference in standard business practices and naive expat expectations about things like honesty, transparency, disclosure, etc.

So Santiago and I show up at Tony’s office for a meeting and are surprised to find seven other people in the office waiting for us.  The seven people included the opposing party, her brother and brother’s wife, their attorney, a friend of the attorney, someone who apparently wanted a commission on the transaction, and that person’s attorney.

Santaigo was as surprised as I and so we had to pull Tony outside to let him know this wasn’t what we had signed up for.  He assured us this was a friendly chat and so against our better judgment we step back into the room and a free for all begins.

First up, the attorneys for the other side start slinging accusations around and materially misstating basic facts about the agreed-upon transaction (remember people, the total deal value here is less than $3,000).  At the same time they’re moving around the room, edging closer to where I am sitting in what would be a menacing way if it weren’t so humorous, and if I didn’t think Santiago and I couldn’t take all comers if GuateChaos broke out.  For a moment I thought I was watching one of those National Geographic documentaries where they hide in the bushes and watch the daily life of a pack of hyenas or wolves.

The pack-like behavior was extraordinary; one attorney would lurk in the corner sheepishly while the ‘bully’ would rant and rave and make gestures in my direction, then the sheepish one would appear to have been inspired and would interrupt and begin wandering around the room.  The rest of the group thought nothing of this and was happy to talk over one another, first at Santiago, then at Tony, finally at me.  I assumed the posture of being bored to death and began inspecting my fingernails, trying to keep up with the conversation with the 50% of it I could follow.

Watching this unfold I had missed what was going on at my side of the room, viz., Santiago was slowly getting worked up, or what in the Old South would be called ‘getting his gander up’.  Maybe he recognized the pack signals better than I, or simply is fluent and was getting 110% of what was being said while I was missing half.  He started in on the assembled group, referring to them in the collective and telling them that we weren’t going to do business this way.  You didn’t have to be fluent to understand what was said next…the attorney for this ‘commissionista’ of sorts told Santiago to f!@# himself and go back to his own country.

Now, I was still trying to figure out who this person was when this came up.  Santiago smiled, lowered his voice and began to characterize what had just been said in ways that the assembled Chapines had probably never heard a gringo speak before, not knowing beforehand that this Gringo had literally grown up on the streets of Antigua 50 years ago.  Santiago let them know, among other things, that we weren’t scared and wouldn’t do business with racists and that perhaps denuncias were in order and that we expected to be paid for the time we had sat there enduring their insane rants.

The result was that the seven assembled people were told to go stand out on the street (literally), in front of the office while Santiago, Tony and I talked.  Santiago took his time instructing me that getting control of a situation like this is critical in this culture, that negotiating from a position of strength is far more important here than in the US or UK, and that dividing up the ‘pack’ makes them easier to manage.  Tony seemed irritated by the whole development; I’m pretty sure he wanted a quick and easy meeting and a paycheck.

After a few minutes Tony went back outside; Santiago insisted that the pack not be let back in until new ground rules were agreed on.  They weren’t happy with what they were being told, there was lots of gesticulating and raised voices, but finally the principal to the transaction intervened and agreed to our terms.  What this meant was that the principal and her attorney would be allowed back in, but no one else.

You could see how this infuriated the other pack members, and insults were hurled across the street in our direction.  The presumed ‘commissionista’ was even stopping people on the street, pointing and gesturing across the street towards our office.  I wish I could have videotaped the whole thing, it was that entertaining, and would have merited inclusion either on ‘Antigua’s Funniest Home Videos’ or ‘Man vs Wild:  Guatemala Uncensored’.  However, back inside the conversations were cordial and efficient.  It helped that I had all the records I needed and so very little was left to guess at.

After two hours (!) we had agreed on the final terms and would meet the following day to sign the paperwork.  I bought Santiago a few drinks and thanked him for the mentoring.  Little did I know that the deal was not yet done.  To be continued…

I mentioned recently that the learning curve has been rather steep lately as I’ve waded ever-further into business in Guate.  Let me share a few revealing stories.

I was referred to a bilingual lawyer here in Antigua by two friends, one Chapin and one American.  I thought this was a pretty good start.  I got on well with the lawyer, who speaks English, and talked about the range of my needs.  The lawyer agreed to represent me on all the topics we discussed, and would bill me once a month.

A week later I needed the lawyer’s assistance with a business transaction and emailed asking for a meeting.  The lawyer didn’t respond, but I showed up at the appointed time, which had always worked in the past.  To my surprise, the lawyer wouldn’t see me-wouldn’t even come out of the office.  I was left in the waiting room when another attorney in the office came out, introduced himself, and said that my attorney was busy that morning but that he was aware of the situation and would help out.

I stepped into his office and to my great surprise found that the opposing party in this transaction was in his office waiting for me.  After a little back and forth, the attorney tells me he understands all of the details in the transaction and will wrap everything up for me for only 1000Q.  Now, 1000Q isn’t a lot, and isn’t too much for an attorney to charge for work, but we’re talking about a very simple transaction here involving only about $3,000, and I merely needed an agreement.

We went back and forth while I proposed that 500Q would be more suitable.  I was moments away from agreeing to the deal when I decided that the ambush approach just wasn’t what I wanted.  I just didn’t like the way things were being handled.  Here I was, beginning a new relationship with an attorney, and negotiating everything in front of the other party to the transaction.  I said as much and left.

You can imagine my great surprise when returning home I found an email waiting for me, sent while I was at the attorney’s office, from MY attorney, indicating that it was not possible to meet with me because of a conflict of interest.  What was the conflict?  Apparently another attorney in the office-the man I had just met with-actually represented the other party.  My attorney thought this was a conflict of interest, but apparently didn’t think it was a conflict that said attorney would represent both parties.

Of course, I knew I needed a new attorney at this point, and began making phone calls.  A friend-you might remember ‘Santiago’ from a previous post-gave me the number of what he referred to as ‘the only honest lawyer I know in Guatemala’ and the man agreed to see me that same day.  What transpired after that first meeting is another adventure unto itself, but you’ll have to wait for the rest of the story.

If you remember from Part 2, I was expecting a final meeting with my attorney and the opposing party to sign papers and close the deal.  I brought a friend along to help me with any Spanish obstacles, and arrived on time for my appointment.  To my great surprise, the Pack of Seven had returned, and the documents were not prepared.

As I later learned, it is common for attorneys to prepare documents in front of the clients here, rather than doing them beforehand and having them ready for the client to review.  I thought about proposing to the attorney that I pay for his time and he pay for my time, but bit my lip.

I decided not to make a big deal over the pack, remembering that Santiago had told me that for many locals there is safety in numbers here and that they were likely frightened and intimidated by me, so I decided to let it go.  Big mistake.

As the attorney began preparing the document, the pack started making noise.  The attorney who had insulted Santiago the day before was prowling about the room, insulting my friend and urging the other pack members to dig up previously-resolved issues.  When we got to a section of the contract that specified the things agreed upon the previous day, all hell broke lose.

In short, the pack members wanted to change the deal.  The dollar amounts were not terribly significant in the big picture, maybe a few hundred dollars, but I was pissed off.  I sat impassively and simply said “No” every time they asked for anything beyond what was asked for the day before.  After about 10 minutes of this and 20 “No’s” from me, I could see the pack was worked up into a frenzy.  I desperately wanted to get down on all fours, roll my eyes back and start licking my lips and screeching like those hyenas do in the National Geographic films, but I knew that not a person in the room would get the joke.

So, instead I decided to returned the favor.  I told my attorney that I was going to call my friend Santiago, and that the assembled group could meet on another day and that we could restart negotiations then.  You can always tell when you’ve hit the mark, because the room went deadly silent.  (All that could be heard was a distant ayudante yelling, “Guate Guate Guate!”) It wasn’t my poor Spanish that did it, it was the reference to ‘Don Santiago’ that brought the pack together in their cowardly silence.

Immediately one attorney and her friend left, snarling and hurling insults at my poor friend whose only job was to fill in the gaps for me.  (I have since learned this attorney also does work for a local real estate firm and am happy to warn readers off individually from said firm).

I thought that this ‘divide and conquer’ strategy had worked but apparently the remaining attorney was the true leader of the pack and called my bluff.  She started in on the nickel and dime strategy and I let her go for about 10 minutes, another mistake.  I had to draw a line in the sand, and did.

I told the attorney that I had decided to change my offer.  My new offer was approximately $1,000 less than the price agreed on the day before.  I explained that this was in consideration of the re-opening of the negotiations, the  disrespect I had experienced and the waste of my time.  She reacted violently, little flecks of spit flying in my direction and insults to my attorney, who seemed, like before, generally irritated at the time this was taking.

There was no question in my mind what the next step was; I picked up my phone and keys, extended my hand to my attorney, and looked to the opposing party and said, “Vaminos”.

At this, everyone jumped up.  My attorney was yelling “It’s no problem! It’s no problem! It’s gonna be okay!”.  The translator/friend was half way to the door, the attorney appeared to have given just a moment’s thought to charging me, and the brother of the principal had his hands in the air, apparently beggin El Senor for intervention.  The principal had said very little, but came rushing over to me, begging in near-perfect English that I not leave, apologizing for all that had happened and saying we would have no more trouble.  The attorney was instructed to wait outside.  I winked at her as she left.

Thirty minutes later the contract was finished and signed and I shook hands amiably with the principal, her brother and his wife.  On the way out the front door, the attorney wouldn’t look me in the eye but told my friend that he should be “careful” the kind of gringos he associates with.  At hearing this I stopped, made sure I had her name and firm right, conspicuously took the notes on my Blackberry, smiled, and left.  Even Gringos can file denuncias.

What are the lessons to be learned here?

Well, for starters you can’t expect from attorneys here what you might in the US.  Don’t make that mistake.  You’re going to need to treat your own attorney like you would an opposing counsel in the US. You are just a gringo to them, a ATM of sorts, and you’re not going to get the best advocacy they have to offer.  As far as they’re concerned, you’ll be gone soon anyway.  So you need to decide what you want, press for it yourself, and not count on your attorney to voluntarily look out for your interests.

You also need to be prepared to spend lots of time, so don’t schedule anything close to an appointment when other parties are going to be involved.  Otherwise you’ve just negotiated against yourself.  Put a limit to it though, in your own mind, so you can throw it out there and use it as a lever against them, e.g., “I’m only going to waste 30 more minutes on this, and then I’m gone” or, “For every 10 minutes that we spend renegotiating, my price drops by 100Q”.  Next time I’m in this situation, I’m actually going to vocalize it, “I have an appointment to have my shoes shined in the park and I don’t want to be late, so it’s now or never amigos.”

You need to be ready to walk away.  This is a great strategy in any business negotiation, but more important here than in the US because your willingness to do so demonstrates you are in control, and not the opposing party (not unlike buying fruit at the mercado).  When I was ready to walk away, the principal in the transaction started  kicking the troublemakers out.  Don’t get so attached to the deal that you HAVE to have it, or they’ll sense that and move in for the kill (like the Wife eyeballing the fresas at the mercado).

You can’t show generosity.  In the US you are often taught that giving in on little inconsequential points can demonstrate generosity and flexibility and make the other party like you and want to work with you on other things.  Not so here; you’re simply showing weakness.  You don’t have to be mean, but you can’t give an inch.  If anything, you need to be ready to go on the offensive at the first sign of equivocation by the other party.  (Like backing off the agreed-upon price when they start changing the deal).

Finally, watch lots of Animal Planet and National Geographic.  Since this experience I’ve had other encounters where the pack mentality is employed.  Maybe it’s a cultural thing, maybe there really is fear of Gringos, but when it was one on one or two on two, we got the deal we should have.  Not a better deal, mind you, just the original deal.  This isn’t about taking advantage of anyone, it’s about playing fair and watching your own back.  At least for me it helped to take the edge off the whole experience and I think if you’re in a good mood and at ease and they’re all wound up, you’ve got the advantage.  (And don’t bother writing to me saying I’m equating Guatemalans to animals, that’s not what I said  and you’ll just look foolish).

Needless to say, doing business here is more difficult than in the US, and adds a lot to the experience versus simply living here.  It also means that there is less gringo competition for the business opportunities, and that lack of skilled competition translates to profits for the rest of us.