Bill Wood QC contemplates the incidentals: food, doors and Pinocchio

Mediation rooms tend to be unremarkable places. They do not have the structure and style of a courtroom.  Yet in these often plain spaces, we are privileged to witness great dramas, personal, commercial even political.  Shakespeare’s reference to “a great reckoning in a little room[1] comes to mind. To be fair he was probably referring to the death of his friend Christopher Marlowe in a fight over a bar bill.  But even that was a mediation of a kind I suppose.

The little room, the environment and the incidentals do matter of course. In fact, they are often memorable.

Now don’t get me wrong. I am not a furniture fiddler. There are those who teach that to lay the foundations of a good mediation you should arrive at the mediation centre long before the parties and make subtle adjustments to the furniture to create the best possible environment. “Could you turn towards me slightly Mr Jenkins, I’m not quite getting your body language”. You know the sort of thing. 

But there are certain rooms in certain solicitors’ offices which I will only ever enter reluctantly, haunted as they are by flashbacks of bruising and protracted encounters from the past. To me they reek of impasse even now.

We see less these days of the old cliche of putting the away team in a windowless room while the home team luxuriate in a light-filled corner suite. And food discrimination is rarer now. (A word of advice to those contemplating serving their own clients a dripping roast while handing a packet of crisps to the opposition: make sure the home team’s room does not have interior windows and the ice sculpture is not readily observable from outside. Or there will be trouble.)

I swear one London firm used to calibrate the lunches it served by reference to the strength of the case they were advancing at the mediation. You knew they had a drawerful of statutory defences when the cheese and pickle sandwiches appeared. But when the roast bass and the braised fennel were served it was likely that their clients were on rockier ground.

Then the stationery drawers: I find a long wait between offers can be enlivened by doing a still life of an apple using the in-house highlighter pens (red, green, yellow – it all makes sense). Or you can take a tour of corridors to see the law firm’s art collection. Victor Pasmore and Howard Hodgkin are ubiquitous (who is complaining). Simmons and Simmons have some quite punchy Tracy Emins which I always enjoy. And I often seek consolation from one firm’s stunning Jim Dine etching of Pinocchio; particularly comforting when the parties’ discussions seem to lack a proper degree of candour.

Climate matters too. I mediated a case about the adequacy of the air-conditioning in an office building. Unfortunately, we mediated on site. The tenant had undoubtedly turned the heating up to maximum to prove his point. But the landlord and his team entered fully into the spirit of things by sweating through the day with their jackets firmly on at all times. “Temperature’s perfect, Bill. Can’t see the problem” says the red-faced chief executive.

Which brings me inevitably to doors.The modern office door is designed to expose visitors to the maximum amount of ridicule. Frequently they are so heavy that only a circus strongman can open them. And be careful. The ones that promise to open inwards open out. The ones that promise to open outwards open in.  And woe betide you if you failed to spot the slider. A really well-designed office features a cunning mixture all three.  Taking Party A’s offer to Party B involves a Rubik’s cube problem of such complexity you are liable to forget the figure. No doubt the local inhabitants derive hours of harmless fun as they watch our struggles. Perhaps it’s reassuring that at 5pm these gifted and observant peacemakers are pushing on a door they should be pulling just as enthusiastically as they did at the start of the day.

I would write more but I think the Claimant is ready for me with a new number.   Now how does this door work?


[1] As You Like It, Act 3, scene 3.

Don't miss a story. Sign up for email updates.

We won't spam you and you can unsubscribe at any time. In signing-up, you agree to our privacy policy.