The 72-hour rule before signing

A few years ago I came close to signing an important agreement in 48 hours, because the deadline was the next day. Everything was lined up for me to say yes. The opportunity was good, the people around the table were serious, and I had been given to understand that if I didn't decide, someone else would.

I asked for three days. They were granted with a sigh.

I didn't sign. Not because I had found something specific in the documents, but because slowing down let me see what speed was hiding. Three months later, I understood that those three days had saved me from a costly mistake.

It has been a rule ever since. Before any agreement that commits me long term, I let it sit for 72 hours. And I don't spend them thinking about it vaguely, telling myself to sleep on it. I do three precise things, one a day.

Day 1: I build the scenario where it goes wrong

Not the cautious scenario. The bad one. The main client leaves, the market slows, costs all go up at the same time.

I put it on paper with numbers, not in my head. That's the part people skip, and it's the part that counts. In your head, the bad scenario stays vague and manageable. On paper, with amounts and months, it becomes an addition you can either carry or not.

One question at the end: does the business get through that one? If the answer is yes, the decision becomes surprisingly simple. If it's no, this is no longer an opportunity, it's a bet. And a bet is something you take knowingly, not out of enthusiasm.

Day 2: I calculate the cost of getting out

What does it cost me to walk away in a year? In three?

I ask the question out loud during the negotiation, and I watch the reaction as closely as the answer. When nobody across the table can answer me clearly, it isn't an agreement, it's a hope.

I've learned that the cost of getting out is almost always higher than you imagine while everything is going well. That is exactly why you have to put a number on it while everything is going well. The day you want out, you will have neither the time nor the distance to work it out, and you'll discover the real amount at the worst possible moment.

Day 3: I have it torn apart

I call someone with no stake in the file and I ask them, not what they think of it, but what could go wrong.

The distinction matters. "What do you think" invites approval: the person senses that you want to go ahead and comes along with you. "What could go wrong" forces work. It isn't a question you can answer politely.

My accountant is excellent at this. He never tries to encourage me, and that is precisely why I call him. Choose someone with nothing to gain from your yes, and who isn't afraid of displeasing you.

What the rule reveals about the other side

This is the effect I didn't expect, and it has become the most useful of the three.

Good opportunities survive 72 hours without trouble. They are still there on the fourth day, often improved, because a serious seller understands that a careful buyer makes a better partner. The ones that don't survive were never opportunities, they were pressure.

And in a negotiation, pressure almost always belongs to the person applying it. When you're told the deadline is tomorrow, the real information isn't the deadline: it's that someone would rather you didn't look too long.

Asking for three days costs a sigh. It's the lowest price I've ever paid for information that reliable.

To try this week

Take the decision sitting on your desk right now and write down, in three lines, what it would cost you to get out of it in a year. Not an estimate in your head: three written lines.

If you can't write them, you already have your answer.

And you, which decision do you wish you had delayed by three days?

Frédéric Deshaies
President and Founder, Hedhofis