Scones with a side of Saudi oil

For the last big outing before they left for Pakistan, Saeeda and I decided to take my parents to high tea at the Peninsula hotel in downtown Chicago. Both Saeeda and I had wanted to sample their afternoon tea, after having done the same at their sister location in Hong Kong. Since my parents are big tea aficionados, we thought this would be a nice experience for everyone.

Although the hotel is tucked away on a side street off Michigan Ave., the interior of the hotel is beautiful, and is befitting of the "Peninsula" brand. Spacious, luxurious, and well appointed, it practically smacks you in the face with it's premiere status as you walk its halls. I found myself thinking if my clothes were expensive enough to be worn inside.

Tea was held in a grand ballroom space and was delicious. The china was fine, the scones perfectly warm, and the teas flavorful. The real fun that I had, however, was listening to conversations around us, one of which caught my attention the moment we sat down.

Soon after we had situated ourselves, several gentlemen in dark suits came and sat down beside us. There were three people of Arab origin, and one white gentleman, all four of whom spent some time exchanging pleasantries. About ten minutes into our tea, two more men joined the four - again, one was Arab, and the other white American. Through the discreet glances that I was able to steal, I could tell that all men were wearing the finest suits possible, and had lavish accessories to go along with them - Rolex watches, silk ties, gold tie-pins - the works. The two American men sat next to each other, and the four Arab men sat across from them.

It was clear to me that this was some sort of business meeting, and that a negotiation was about to take place between the Americans and the Arabs. After all, what better place to conduct business than over tea in a nice hotel, after which all parties can retire to their rooms and fly back to their places of origin the next day? It was the actual scale of the negotiation that blew me away. I soon began to hear snippets of conversation such as:

"We see a great future in a Saudi oil partnership"
"... that much money is going to have a significant impact on our liquidity, not to mention an effect on global markets..." (this from the two American gentlemen)
"... $2 billion ... " (the Arabs)
"... we can go no higher than ... [couldn't hear the rest]" (the Americans)

and so it went. It was really hard for me to concentrate on our own conversation, especially since this was the last time the four of us were going to be dining out together for a long time. The whole time I was thinking about the sheer amount of money that was about to change hands just a few feet from me. Who said that these things happened only on a golf course? Hogwash.

The men were still negotiating when we left, and it was all I could do to prevent myself from asking for their autographs as we walked by. After all, these guys are the real powerbrokers in our world.

It also got me thinking about what location I'd pick for my own business negotiations. I think golf is overrated, and I refuse to play the game. However, I do appreciate the concept of an athletic competition rather than tea for conducting business. So should I ever make it to the point where I need to buy or sell a company or two (or move $2 billion in global markets), I think I will do so by asking the other party out to the basketball court.

We'd start by shooting free throws, which is where I'd gauge their accuracy and general shooting form, from where we'd progress to a general shootaround. That's when I'd casually broach the topic at hand. Serious negotations wouldn't start until a game of 5-on-5. I would let my deputies hash out the details with their counterparts between plays. The heavy negotiating would take place between myself the other lead negotiator. I picture getting the ball in the low post, dribbling twice and saying, "your asking price is much too high; you're going to have to reconsider," and turning around to shoot over my man. Upon scoring (you actually think I'd miss?), I'd run back to my end of the court, giving my adversary time to compose his response. He'd dribble to his right, fake left, and dribble back to his right to drive to the basket for a layup. "This is our final offer," he'd say as he would leave the ground for a layup.

At which point I would jump from behind and swat his shot away. "I think it best that you reconsider," is all I'd say as the ball would fly out of bounds, with one of my deputies running to recollect it.

And so on it would go. So much more fun, no? Besides, it'd mean that I'd only ever negotiate with worthy physical adversaries. And after concluding a tough game of street hoops, THAT'S when we'd head for tea at the Peninsula.