How Will I Know When We've Won?
The question I learned to ask every client — because their first answer is almost never the real one
I fancy myself a thoughtful and experienced negotiator. That's my big thing. That's a way that I can bring value to a client — the ability to negotiate, or to help them negotiate. Here's the elephant in the room: people often don't really and truly know what they want. That's true in a lawsuit, a real estate deal, or an argument at the dinner table.
I want to explore how a lawyer/mediator digs into what a person really wants. Finding out what's actually motivating people, I've come to believe, is the secret sauce to resolving conflict successfully. As we all kind of intuitively know, sometimes the argument about who didn't take out the trash isn't always about who didn't take out the trash.
Two different problems, same client
In the words of Joe Biden, "Here's the deal." By the time a dispute makes it to court, the entire controversy is usually reduced to a dollar figure. The procedural details take over — technicalities become the focus. The case takes on a life of its own. The fight becomes about the fight.
The winner is never completely made whole, and the loser is in a real hole. A court can award money. It can issue an injunction. It cannot make someone sorry. It cannot make someone understand what they cost you. It cannot give you back the two years you spent angry. And then there are the fees and costs. Unless it's a tort, often the parties are dividing a pie with other folks also taking a bite.
That's the legal problem. Then there's a human problem underneath it too — and a court is only built to solve the first one. The psychological side never gets addressed, and in the end nobody leaves happy.
Why the first answer may not be the real one
Sometimes the honest answer to "What are we fighting over?" really is the money. Plenty of disputes are exactly what they look like on the surface — a car wreck, a debt, a broken contract. Those are the easy ones.
But often, especially once hurt feelings, embarrassment, or shame is involved, the first answer is a proxy for something the client hasn't said out loud yet — sometimes hasn't even said to themselves.
The client who says they want a judgment on the record, when what they actually want is for one specific person — a family member, a former friend, a business partner they trusted — to admit what they did and be exposed.
The client who wants to take a case all the way to trial "on principle," when what's actually driving them is the fear that settling will feel like agreeing they were foolish to trust the other side in the first place. They feel betrayed.
The client who wants the other side to hurt — not just to pay, but to suffer — because they themselves are hurting, and some part of them believes that if the other person hurts too, it will finally feel fair. Sometimes these folks are hurting for all kinds of reasons completely unrelated to the dispute at bar.
Mediation isn't just refereeing two stated positions until they meet in the middle. A good mediator needs to find out what each party actually needs to hear, or to walk away with — which means figuring out what wants and needs live deep down in the secret places in their heart.
Where this is going
This is the first piece in a series about a question I think doesn't get asked enough, by lawyers or by anyone else sitting across from a person in conflict: what does this person actually want, beyond what they're saying? How will I know when we've won?
In upcoming posts, I'll dig into ways to get a client — or the parties to a dispute — to actually open up about what they really want or need. Sometimes you have to help them figure out what that is. It's crucial for an advocate or a neutral to fully understand the dispute, and often the parties' history, in order to craft a solution that actually resolves it, not just settles it on paper. Good advocates and neutrals have techniques for this — ways to make people comfortable enough to actually say what they need.
One of those techniques is something called T-funnel questioning. You start with something broad enough that the party can answer however they want, not however you'd frame it. "Tell me about your relationship with your business partner before this happened," not "Did he shortchange you on the March invoice?"
As the party talks, you listen for the gaps and threads worth pulling, then progressively ask more specific, more closed questions to pin down the actual facts. Dates, specific conversations, who else was in the room. Before moving to the next topic, you summarize your understanding to verify accuracy, then open a new T-funnel for the next subject.
That's one tool. There are others — ways to defuse an angry party without agreeing with them, questions that get someone to reveal what they actually value without ever asking directly. I'll get to those.
Next time, though, I want to go somewhere a little less comfortable — the party who doesn't just want to win, but wants the other side to lose and hurt. Occasionally I'd run across a juror like that. They were angry or hurt. They wanted other people to hurt. We used to call those folks "punitive jurors," and they are dangerous. There's genuinely interesting research on why some people are wired that way, why it rarely gives them what they're hoping for, and what a good mediator does when that's the party sitting in front of them.
How Will I Know When We've Won?
If you've ever walked out of a negotiation, a lawsuit, or an argument with someone you love — technically "ahead," but still feeling like something wasn't finished — you already know why this question matters. We'll dig into it more, next time.
Finding Out What People Really WantWhy deals, lawsuits, and marriages all break the same way — and how to stop it
Finding Out What People Really Want
Why deals, lawsuits, and marriages all break the same way — and how to stop it
A young couple — newlyweds, hoping to start a family soon — found a beautiful old house. It had character, a great lot, good bones, and a price tag to match. They made an offer. It was accepted. They were, for a few days, homeowners-to-be.
Then the inspection happened.
The house was over a century old, and like a lot of houses that age, it still had its original clay sewer line running out to the street. Vitreous clay pipe was standard for decades — it's durable, but over a hundred years, it cracks. That's exactly what the inspector found. It needed to be dug up and replaced.
This is not an exotic problem. It's a routine one. Anyone who has bought or sold an older home has seen this exact item on an inspection report before.
And the deal died anyway.
The buyers walked. They lost their inspection costs — close to $2,000 — and months of time. The sellers lost their buyers, and the house went back on the market, where it still sits. The sellers, who need to sell this house in order to buy their next one, are stuck. The buyers, who wanted to get on with building their life together, are stuck too. Everybody lost. Over a sewer pipe.
The puzzle worth sitting with
Here's what should bother anyone who's spent real time at a negotiating table: this was a solvable problem. A cracked clay sewer pipe on an otherwise-desirable house is not a dealbreaker in any rational world. It's a line item. Someone gets a quote, the parties split the difference or negotiate a credit, and the deal closes.
So why didn't it?
The easy answer is "the buyers and sellers couldn't agree on money." That's true, but it isn't an explanation — it's just a restatement of the symptom. Money disagreements are almost never really about money. They're about what the money represents to each side. And that's the question nobody in this deal seems to have asked out loud.
It's also not a question unique to real estate. I see the same exact pattern in lawsuits I mediate, and — though I say this carefully, since I'm a lawyer, a mediator and a real estate broker. I am not a therapist — I see it in the way people describe conflict with their own spouses. The arena changes. The mechanism doesn't.
Positions versus interests
In mediation, we draw a hard line between a party's position — what they say they want — and their interest — what they actually need underneath that.
In the house deal, the positions were simple and predictable:
Buyer's position: "Fix it or credit me for it."
Seller's position: "I'm not paying that much to fix a pipe."
Two positions, a few thousand dollars apart, and an entire transaction of many hundreds of thousands of dollars died in the gap between them. That gap should never have been wide enough to kill a deal this size — which tells you the real fight wasn't about the dollar figure at all. It was about what each side believed the dollar figure meant.
The buyers weren't just worried about a repair bill. They were newly married, building a life, and probably feeling — consciously or not — that being asked to absorb a known defect on day one of homeownership was an unfair way to start. Their interest wasn't really the money. It was confidence that they weren't getting taken advantage of in the biggest purchase of their lives.
The sellers weren't just being stingy. They had their own next move riding on this sale. Their interest wasn't the repair cost either — it was momentum, and the fear that conceding too much, too fast, would eat into the funds they needed for their own next house.
Neither side's real interest was actually about the size of the number. But because nobody dug down to find that out, the negotiation stayed stuck on the only thing anyone had said out loud: the number.
Where the negotiation broke down
I don't say this as a criticism of any one person — it's a structural problem, and an extremely common one. Most negotiations default to positional bargaining: one side states a number, the other side counters, and the deal either lands somewhere in the middle or it doesn't. It's fast, it's familiar, and most of the time, on most issues, it works fine.
But positional bargaining has a weakness: it has no mechanism for finding out why either side is holding their position. It treats the stated number as the whole story. And when positions are far enough apart — or when either side starts to feel disrespected by the other's number — the negotiation can stall out completely, even when there's an obvious resolution available just beneath the surface.
What should have happened here is the kind of conversation a mediator has with each side, separately, before positions ever lock in:
What does this number actually represent to you, beyond the dollar figure?
What's driving your timeline — what happens if this falls through?
In mediation we ask parties to define their BATNA (Best Alternative to a Negotiated Agreement)
What would it take for you to feel this was handled fairly, not just cheaply?
What's the real cost of walking away, compared to the cost of resolving this?
Ask the buyers those questions, and you likely find their real concern isn't "we refuse to spend $2,000" — it's "we don't want to start married life feeling outmaneuvered." Ask the sellers, and you likely find their real concern isn't "we refuse to negotiate" — it's "we can't afford to lose more time, because our own move depends on this."
Once you know that, the path to a deal looks different. Maybe it's a repair credit framed as the sellers "taking care of it" rather than "losing." Maybe it's a faster closing timeline that gives the sellers certainty in exchange for splitting the repair cost. None of that requires either side to lose. It just requires someone to ask what they actually need, instead of negotiating against what they said.
The same pattern, in a lawsuit
Take the same mechanism and put it in a courtroom-bound dispute instead of a real estate deal, and almost nothing changes except the vocabulary.
Two businesses are in a contract dispute. One side is suing for breach; the other is countersuing. On paper, the fight is about money — a specific dollar figure, usually with a lot of zeros, that each side's lawyer has anchored to and is defending like a property line.
But sit with each party privately, the way a mediator does, and the dollar figure often turns out to be a stand-in for something else entirely. Sometimes it's about being believed — one side feels falsely accused of acting in bad faith, and no settlement number will satisfy them until someone acknowledges that they didn't. Sometimes it's about precedent — a business owner who fears that settling "too easily" will invite the next disgruntled vendor to sue. Sometimes it's simply exhaustion dressed up as principle: a party who would take a fair number today, except that admitting it now feels like losing face after a year of insisting they wouldn't.
None of those are positions a lawsuit's pleadings will ever surface. They're not legal arguments — they're human ones. But they're very often the actual reason a case that "should" settle for a reasonable number instead drags on for another eighteen months of legal fees that dwarf the original dispute.
A mediator's real job in those cases isn't just doing math on a settlement range. It's finding out what each side needs to hear, or to walk away believing, before they can let go of a position they've been defending too long to give up for free.
The same pattern, at the kitchen table
I want to be careful here, because I'm
not a marriage counselor and I don’t have a stellar record in navigating my own domestic rhubarbs, and I'd never claim the training is interchangeable. But the underlying mechanism doesn't stop at the courthouse door or the closing table. Anyone who's been in a long relationship has lived through a version of this same trap.
A couple argues about money, or about whose turn it is to handle something, or about how a holiday gets spent. The argument repeats, sometimes for years, and it never seems to actually resolve — because the thing being argued about out loud usually isn't the thing actually driving the fight.
"You spent too much on that" is sometimes really "I don't feel like we're a team on money decisions." "Why didn't you tell your parents we can't come this year" is sometimes really "I need to feel like you'll choose us when it's hard, not just when it's easy." The stated position is real — the money was spent, the holiday plan was made — but it's rarely the actual source of the friction. The friction is almost always underneath: about fairness, about feeling chosen, about not feeling taken for granted.
Couples who get stuck in the same fight over and over are very often doing exactly what the buyers and sellers did over that sewer pipe — negotiating hard over the stated position, without ever asking the other person what's really driving it for them.
What all three have in common
A real estate deal, a lawsuit, and a marriage are not the same thing, and I'd never collapse them into one. But the pattern that breaks all three is identical: people state positions, the other side responds to the position instead of the person, and the conversation never gets anywhere near the actual interest sitting underneath. The fight goes in circles because everyone is negotiating against the wrong thing.
This is the first thing I look for in any dispute I mediate — real estate, business, or otherwise: what do the parties say they want, and what do they actually need? Those two things are rarely identical, and the gap between them is usually exactly where the conflict is stuck.
Good negotiators learn to ask these questions instinctively. It's also exactly the skill set mediators train for — finding the interest buried under the position, on both sides, before the positions calcify into a standoff.
If you're buying or selling real estate and a deal feels stuck over something that, on paper, shouldn't be a dealbreaker — that's usually a sign the real issue hasn't been named yet. If you're in a dispute that's already escalated past a normal negotiation, that's exactly the kind of situation a mediator is trained to untangle. And if you find yourself in the same argument with someone you love, over and over, with no resolution in sight — it might be worth asking what you're actually fighting about, underneath what you're saying.
Either way, the lesson is the same: don't negotiate against what someone said. Find out what they actually need.
The Laugh Track: Television’s Hidden Greek Chorus
The Laugh Track: Television’s Hidden Greek Chorus
By Brad Beaty
I’m 64 years old, and for most of my life — like my father before me — I’ve been aggravated by laugh tracks on television. I think that we were supposed to believe that they were simply there to let us know when something was funny or to keep solitary viewers from feeling lonely. Going back and finally reading the Greek plays I was assigned in school, I finally appreciated the chorus. That group of singers and dancers was there to tell the audience exactly how they were supposed to feel.
The main difference, it seems to me, is that the Greeks were more honest about it. They put their chorus front and center on the stage, and theatergoers understood its role. We hide ours behind the screen.
I grew up in the 1960s and 1970s, right in the heyday of the laugh track. I remember watching the Norman Lear shows — All in the Family, Maude, The Jeffersons, and Good Times. Even as a kid, I could sense that the laugh track in those shows operated differently than it did in something like The Andy Griffith Show.
At the time, everyone praised these programs for bravely tackling race, politics, feminism, and the generation gap. What was rarely mentioned was how effectively they used the laugh track as a teaching tool. Archie Bunker wasn’t presented as a hero for the conservative right — he was a foil for the show’s progressive agenda. When Archie said something “ignorant” or “outdated”, the laugh track would roar, signaling to the audience that he was a fool. When Maude or Gloria delivered a speech about women’s rights or social progress, the laughter and applause would swell, making it clear this was the enlightened position.
The message was unmistakable: laugh here, agree here, this is the right side of history. It was subtle, but very effective — especially if you felt your peers were all laughing along with you.
The ancient Greek chorus had a straightforward job. It represented the community, praised virtue, condemned vice, and guided the audience’s emotions. Everyone knew it was there doing its work. The laugh track performs essentially the same function, except it pretends it isn’t. That pretense is what makes it more insidious. It creates the illusion that you’re sitting in a room full of people all laughing together at the same things.
Psychologists call this “social proof.” When you hear laughter — even artificial laughter — you feel social pressure to laugh along. You absorb the intended lesson without realizing you’re being taught. Over the years, the laugh track helped train multiple generations on what — and who — was acceptable to laugh at.
After spending thousands of hours as a litigator and mediator trying to see conflicts from other people’s perspectives, maybe I’ve become more sensitive to how easily we create villains and ridiculous characters. The laugh track was remarkably good at doing exactly that without ever having to say it outright.
Thankfully, the laugh track has been fading over the last twenty years. Many modern comedies, especially on streaming platforms, no longer use it. Or so my “extensive” research shows. (By that I mean the few articles that I have read.) Shows now shoot in single-camera format and trust the writing and acting to carry the humor. In many ways, that’s progress. But it also means we’ve lost a shared cue telling us what we’re all supposed to find funny.
Looking back, I believe the laugh track was far more powerful than most of us realized. It didn’t just entertain us — it quietly shaped how we viewed the world, our neighbors, and ourselves. The ancient Greeks were honest enough to put their chorus in plain sight. We let ours hide behind the screen for decades, whispering in our ears while we sat on the couch. Maybe it’s time we finally admit how much it influenced us.
Key Academic Sources & Citations
Platow, Michael J., et al. (2005). “It’s not funny if they’re laughing”: Self-categorization, social influence, and responses to canned laughter.
Journal of Experimental Social Psychology, 41(5), 542–550.One of the strongest empirical studies. It shows that canned laughter works primarily through social proof (Cialdini), but its effectiveness depends on whether the audience sees the laughers as in-group members. This supports the idea of laugh tracks as tools of social and moral alignment.
Brewer, Kenneth L. (2018). Don’t Make Me Laugh!: Morality, Ethics, and the Laugh Track.
Studies in American Humor, Vol. 4, No. 1, pp. 10–?. (Penn State University Press)Academic treatment of the ethical and moral dimensions of laugh tracks. Discusses how they coerce laughter, potentially make audiences more receptive to ideological messages, and function as a form of social control.
Cialdini, Robert B. (Influence: The Psychology of Persuasion, 1984/2006/2021 editions)
Chapter on Social Proof.The foundational reference. Cialdini explicitly uses the laugh track as a prime example of social proof — people laugh more (even at weak jokes) because they perceive others laughing. Widely cited in media studies.
Armstrong, James (2015). “The Greek Chorus and the Laugh Track.”
Blog post drawing on Jacques Lacan and Slavoj Žižek. While not peer-reviewed, it is frequently referenced in discussions. Lacan argued the chorus performs emotional labor for the audience (“the Chorus will do so in your place”). Žižek extends similar ideas to the sitcom laugh track.Additional scholarly context:
Weiner, Albert (1980). “The Function of the Tragic Greek Chorus.” Theatre Journal. Classic reference on the chorus as moral commentator and audience surrogate.
Various works in Journal of Popular Culture, Journal of Film and Video, and Critical Studies in Television discuss the industrial and cultural role of laugh tracks, especially the shift away from them in prestige/single-camera programming.
Other Useful References
Notes on the Laugh Track (Antenna blog, University of Wisconsin, 2011) — Good overview tying laugh tracks to social proof and television’s commercial history.
Research on the decline of laugh tracks: Linked to the rise of single-camera comedies, streaming aesthetics, and changing audience sophistication (see works on television “legitimation”).
Mediating Real Estate Commission Disputes: A Smarter Path to Resolution
Real estate commission disputes are among the most common conflicts in the property industry. Whether the disagreement is between a broker and a client, two competing agents, or a seller who feels the agreed-upon fee was unearned, these disputes can be costly, time-consuming, and damaging to professional relationships. Mediation offers a practical, efficient alternative to litigation — one that is increasingly being embraced by real estate professionals and consumers alike.
Why Commission Disputes Arise
Real estate commissions are typically negotiated as a percentage of the sale price, often ranging from 5% to 6% of the transaction, though this has been shifting in recent years following industry-wide changes to commission structures. Disputes tend to emerge when a sale falls through after significant agent work, when a seller claims the agent underperformed, when buyers feel they were not adequately represented, or when two brokerages disagree over how a shared commission should be split. The dollar amounts involved can be substantial, making these conflicts emotionally charged and financially significant for all parties.
Why Mediation Works
Mediation is well-suited to real estate commission disputes for several reasons. First, it is confidential. Unlike court proceedings, which are part of the public record, mediation allows agents, brokers, and clients to resolve their differences privately — protecting reputations and ongoing business relationships. Second, it is faster. Litigation can drag on for months or even years, while mediation often resolves disputes in a single session or a few meetings. Third, it is far less expensive. Court costs, attorney fees, and lost time can quickly exceed the value of the disputed commission itself.
Perhaps most importantly, mediation preserves relationships. Real estate is a relationship-driven business, and burning bridges with a broker, a referral partner, or a former client can have long-term consequences. A skilled mediator helps both sides feel heard and guides them toward a mutually acceptable resolution without the adversarial dynamic of a courtroom.
The Mediation Process
In a typical real estate commission mediation, both parties present their positions to a neutral mediator who has no stake in the outcome. The mediator may meet with each party separately — a technique called caucusing — to explore underlying interests and identify potential areas of compromise. Unlike a judge or arbitrator, the mediator does not impose a decision. The goal is a voluntary agreement that both parties can live with.
Many state real estate commissions and local associations, including the National Association of Realtors, encourage or even require mediation as a first step before arbitration or litigation. Some listing agreements and buyer-broker contracts now include mediation clauses for exactly this reason.
Finding a Mediator
When selecting a mediator for a real estate commission dispute, look for someone with experience in both mediation and real estate or contract law. Professional organizations like the Association for Conflict Resolution or your state's dispute resolution association can provide referrals to qualified neutrals.
Mediation won't resolve every dispute, but for the vast majority of real estate commission conflicts, it offers a faster, cheaper, and far less stressful path forward — for everyone at the table.
How Mediation Saves Time and Money in Landlord-Tenant Disputes
Landlord-tenant relationships can sour quickly—over unpaid rent, repair responsibilities, security deposit returns, or lease violations. When tensions rise, many assume court is the only path forward. But eviction filings, small claims suits, or habitability disputes often end up costing far more in time, legal fees, and stress than they're worth.Enter mediation: a structured yet flexible process where a neutral mediator helps both sides talk it out and craft their own agreement. In 2025-2026, mediation continues to prove itself as the smarter first (or only) step for landlord-tenant conflicts, especially as housing pressures and eviction backlogs persist in many areas.Why Landlord-Tenant Disputes Are Ripe for MediationCommon flashpoints include:
Non-payment of rent during financial hardship
Disagreements over who pays for repairs (e.g., plumbing leaks or mold issues)
Security deposit deductions that feel unfair
Noise complaints, pet disputes, or early lease terminations
Eviction threats tied to alleged lease breaches
These issues are often emotional and fact-specific, making courtroom battles inefficient. Judges decide based on strict legal standards, but mediation lets parties address underlying needs—like a tenant's temporary cash-flow problem or a landlord's legitimate maintenance concerns—leading to practical fixes courts can't always order.Key Benefits: Time, Money, and Relationships
Faster Resolutions
Court eviction or small claims processes can drag on for months (or longer in backlogged jurisdictions). Mediation sessions typically happen within weeks and often resolve in a single day or a few hours. Recent programs show early mediation before filing can prevent cases from ever reaching court dockets.Significant Cost Savings
Litigation racks up attorney fees, filing costs, service fees, lost rent during vacancies, and potential appeals. Mediation usually costs a fraction—often split between parties or covered by low-cost community programs. Many reach agreements without ever needing lawyers in the room full-time.Higher Success Rates and Compliance
Mediation boasts strong settlement numbers. In Florida, civil and family mediations (including landlord-tenant) hit 70-80% success in 2025 data from over 1,000 cases. Hawaii's early eviction mediation efforts have seen agreement rates around 87% in past implementations, with many tenants staying housed through payment plans or repair compromises.Preserves Ongoing Relationships
For landlords with multiple units or tenants hoping to stay long-term, mediation avoids burning bridges. It focuses on collaboration rather than "winning," often resulting in creative solutions like phased rent catch-up, repair timelines, or lease amendments.Confidential and Low-Risk
Unlike public court records, mediation stays private. If no agreement is reached, either side can still pursue court—no admissions or offers are used against you later.
How the Landlord-Tenant Mediation Process Typically Works
Initiation — One party (or both) contacts a mediator. Many areas offer court-referred or community-based services, some free or low-cost. In places with mandatory pre-eviction mediation pilots (like recent Hawaii programs), landlords must offer it before filing.
Preparation — Both sides gather key documents: lease agreement, payment history, repair requests/photos, correspondence. The mediator may ask for a brief position statement.
The Session — Usually joint at first, then private caucuses where the mediator shuttles between rooms to explore options safely. Focus is on interests (e.g., "I need reliable rent to cover my mortgage" vs. "I lost income and need time").
Agreement — If successful, draft a simple, binding written settlement—covering payment plans, repair deadlines, or move-out terms. Many include "no admission of liability" clauses for peace of mind.
Follow-Through — If needed, the agreement can be filed with the court for enforceability.
Real-World Example (Anonymized Success Story)A small landlord in a mid-sized U.S. city served an eviction notice after a tenant fell three months behind on rent due to job loss. The tenant counter-claimed the unit needed urgent HVAC repairs the landlord had delayed.Instead of heading to court (where the landlord risked months without rent and potential counter-damages), both agreed to mediation through a local program. In one four-hour session, they agreed to:
A six-month payment plan for back rent
Landlord completing HVAC fixes within 30 days
Tenant resuming full payments thereafter
Mutual release of claims
The tenant stayed housed, the landlord avoided vacancy and legal bills, and both walked away satisfied—no public record, no winner/loser dynamic.Tips for Success in Landlord-Tenant Mediation
Choose a mediator experienced in housing disputes—they understand landlord obligations under habitability laws and tenant rights.
Come with an open mind but clear bottom lines (e.g., minimum rent recovery or repair standards).
Bring documentation—texts, emails, photos, and receipts strengthen your position without turning it adversarial.
Consider involving attorneys for advice before/after, but keep them out of the session if emotions are high to encourage direct talk.
If you're in a jurisdiction with eviction diversion programs, use them early—statistics show pre-filing mediation prevents far more filings.
Mediation isn't magic—it requires good faith from both sides—but when it works (and it often does), it turns potential enemies into parties who solved their own problem. For landlords managing portfolios or tenants facing displacement, it's frequently the difference between quick closure and prolonged, expensive conflict.If you're in a landlord-tenant dispute, explore local mediation options before filing anything. Many courts and nonprofits make it easy and affordable. Next in the series: Partition actions and using mediation to avoid forced property sales.Have you used mediation in a rental dispute? Share your thoughts in the comments—I'd love to hear what worked (or didn't).
