The Durian Deal™ Framework
7 durians. 5 people. Sam is expected to split the fruit.
Splitting the fruit evenly gives everyone a fraction of something.
He asks something else instead: what does each of these 5 people actually want a durian for?
The question Sam asks opens up an answer nobody in the room had considered.
Getting there takes skills that can be learned.
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Win-win / positive-sum thinking
Creating more value instead of only redistributing it.
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Out-of-the-box thinking
Finding an angle nobody else in the room had considered.
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Judgment
Knowing which goal is actually worth chasing.
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Clear thinking under ambiguity
Acting well when there is no formula to apply.
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Thinking for yourself
Making the call the crowd has not already approved.
Doing any of that while a room is against you takes 4 more skills.
Courage
Speaking up, and acting, before it feels safe to.
Empathy
Seeing what each person in the room actually needs.
Analytical thinking
Breaking a messy problem into its real, workable parts.
Composure
Staying level-headed enough to think, not just react.
Try It Yourself
An Excerpt From the Book
“For the quiet thinkers who notice more than they say.”
Context: Sam has been suspended from school for something he did not do. His grandmother has gone ahead to her island, and he is travelling to meet her alone.
Chapter 5
I stood in front of the train station with three things. My backpack. The box with Grandma’s tea. And a growling stomach.
The smell of sweet mango drifted across the square. A food stall. Sticky rice, coconut milk, mango sliced fresh. Real food.
Then another smell hit me. Warm sugar and oil. A bakery stand, mango donuts stacked high and glossy with glaze. I walked over and bought a bag.
The train whistle screeched. I sprinted, the donuts banging against my side. Shoes slipped on the tiles. I jumped through the doors just as they hissed shut.
Inside, the train was packed. Shoulders against shoulders. Bags pressed into ribs. Every outlet was either broken or already in use. Vendors squeezed through the aisle, shouting “chai, corn, snacks.”
I wanted to buy corn on the cob. But the vendors passed me like I wasn’t there.
My phone’s battery icon blinked red. Then the display faded. Black.
Hours later, the train screeched into the station. I was supposed to meet Grandma at Joy’s Café. The address was in my phone. But the phone was dead.
I asked two women at the taxi stand. They nodded confidently. “Joy’s Café, yes, yes,” one said. They pointed down the road.
After a long walk, a bright sign came into view. Choice Café.
“Joy’s Café?” I asked.
“Joy’s Café?” the barista repeated. He smirked when he realised my mistake. Choice. Joy’s. They sounded the same when said fast. Easy mistake. Costly mistake.
His laugh bit me. I clenched my red scarf tighter and stepped back into the street.
Hours blurred. Wrong turns, crowded buses, blocked roads, dead ends. By the time I found Joy’s Café, the sky had changed colour.
“Your grandmother? Just left,” the cashier said. “She went to the ferry.”
I ran to the jetty. The ferry horn echoed. The boat pulled away, ropes splashing into the water. I reached the edge, chest heaving.
Too late.
Next to the jetty stood a small hostel. The receptionist slid a heavy key across the desk. “Hope you’re not a troublemaker,” she said with a bright smile. A joke. But it hit like a punch.
She asked about my day. The words spilled out. Late to the station. Phone dead. Wrong café. Missed ferry. Each humiliation stacked on the last.
She listened. Then shrugged. “You could blame the crowd. Or the dead outlets. Or the barista who mocked you. Or the people who sent you the wrong way.”
She leaned forward. “Or you could take responsibility.”
I frowned. “But it wasn’t my fault at all.”
She didn’t argue. She leaned back.
“A bad student blames the teacher after a bad exam. A strategist studies harder. A bad driver blames the traffic when he’s late. A strategist leaves earlier. Which one were you today?”
She tapped the desk. “Think about it. How could you have helped yourself?”
At first my mind said, Nothing. Just bad luck.
But then.
I could have brought a power bank. I could have asked to borrow a charger on the train. I could have written the address of Joy’s Café on paper. Or Grandma’s number.
One by one, the pieces fit together.
“Strategists don’t blame circumstances. They take responsibility. That way, they can learn and prepare.”
The receptionist nodded. “Good. You’re starting to think like a strategist. Strategists don’t blame circumstances. They take responsibility. That way, they can learn and prepare. And they prepare three things: a buffer for delays, redundancies in case one path fails, and a backup when everything breaks.”
Her words stayed with me.
Back in my room, I thought of the stall with the mango sticky rice. Real fruit. Real food. I had walked past it for a mango donut. Sweet, shiny, empty. Maybe that’s how trouble starts. That was something I could change.
I thought about the train ride. The vendors. The corn I never got. I had said the vendors ignored me. But the truth was simpler. I hadn’t spoken loud enough.
That was something I could change, too.
For the first time all day, I didn’t feel like a failure. I felt like a strategist in training.
From The Art of the Durian Deal by Pascal D. Hasenmaier.
If this chapter felt familiar, the workshop is where students work through their own version of it.
Bring It to Your SchoolGot Your Own?
If you are facing a real decision with no clear answer, send it to Pascal.
He reads every one himself and replies with how he would work through it.
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