The Takeaway Box - #1
This marks the first edition of what I hope will become a worthwhile monthly note. I will provide part reflections, part practical guidance, and part stories that show what conflict resolution looks like behind the curtain. I had planned to start with a classic case from my federal days. But something happened this past week that reminded me why I continue this work after leaving government service in the first place: I still love this work, and I’m grateful I get to keep doing it.
Takeaways for this month:
A message only works when the listener trusts the messenger. That’s why a neutral can open doors that advocacy alone cannot.
Persistence isn’t pressure. It’s presence. Sometimes a steady, quiet check-in can ultimately move a case.
Optimism creates momentum. When everyone else believes resolution is impossible, the mediator’s belief can become the first step forward.
Possibility precedes negotiation. When the future becomes possible, it becomes negotiable. And once it’s negotiable, it can become reality.
Eight months into private practice, I helped two parties reach resolution in a very difficult employment dispute. I won’t share the details, but I want to share why this one mattered, and what it says about negotiation.
A few months after I transitioned into private practice, two attorneys asked me to mediate a case that, at first glance, looked like dozens I’d handled before. Nothing unusual. Nothing unmanageable. Except the gap between the parties was enormous, the emotions were high, and both sides were dug in. I came prepared. I worked the problem. But by the end of the day, they were still worlds apart.
That was my first major case after leaving the government. Walking away without a resolution stung more than I expected. I found myself wondering:
Did I lose my edge? Was I missing something? Had the instincts I relied on for 25 years gone quiet?
That was September. Since then, I’ve helped many other parties resolve their disputes, including some that were even tougher. But that case stuck with me. I believed they could close the distance if the pressure eased and the dust settled.
So I did what mediators rarely get credit for: I didn’t disappear. I checked in. Not to push. Just to stay present. I heard every version of “not yet”:
“My client isn’t ready.”
“We’re preparing our next depositions.”
“We don’t see the merit in their position.”
“Andres, it’s time to let this one go.”
Months passed. But I kept the door open, because sometimes a quiet, consistent presence is the only thing that shifts the energy.
And then, last week, with trial days away, I made one more call. “Just checking in. How is your client feeling about next week? Want to talk possibilities before you walk into court?” That small question cracked open a conversation that had been sealed shut for months. The war lines softened. Options became thinkable again.
I stayed optimistic long after everyone else had written the case off. That optimism wasn’t naïve. It created momentum. When nothing seems possible, people stop looking for possibilities. A mediator’s belief that resolution still exists often gives the parties permission to believe it too. And once hope re-enters the room, movement follows.
That’s the heart of mediation: not “What do you want?” but “What future can you imagine?” When the future becomes possible, it becomes negotiable. And once it’s negotiable, it turns into reality.
Three things ultimately moved this case:
The right message from the wrong messenger is still the wrong message.
There’s a well-known bias called Reactive Devaluation. People instinctively dismiss a proposal simply because it comes from “the other side.” Attorneys see this every day, often without naming it. Sometimes a message has to come from someone who represents no one, a neutral voice.
Persistence matters.
Not pushiness. Persistence. A steady belief that conflict doesn’t freeze people in place forever builds momentum. Circumstances shift. Nerves settle. Risk becomes real. People reflect. And when those moments happen, the mediator needs to be there to help shape the path forward.
Optimism is a catalyst.
Even when parties, and sometimes their own lawyers, believe resolution is impossible, the mediator can’t. Quiet, grounded and steady optimism keeps the window open long enough for someone to realize there’s still a way through. A mediator’s belief that a solution exists often becomes the spark that gets both sides moving again.
Last week, the parties took that path. A three-year conflict finally ended. It felt meaningful, not because it validated my work, but because it reminded me why this work matters. People often come to mediation exhausted, anxious, and convinced nothing will change. Helping them find a way out is still the most satisfying thing I do.
If you’re reading this, many of you already know what our work together looks like. For those I haven’t yet met, I hope we have the chance soon. When you’re facing a stubborn dispute, whether it’s employment, civil rights, internal conflict, insurance, discrimination, or something sensitive and high stakes, reach out. Let’s see what’s possible together.