Every contract tells you to issue a notice when something is going wrong. But that launches warships ā and makes it virtually certain that something will go wrong
Igave a talk the other night at a Chartered Institute of ŠŌ°ÉµēĢØ meeting. Well, it was more of a chat. The topic was how to do me out of a job.
I spend all day every day deciding disputes. Sometimes I have a little whinge, (to myself, of course), about how daft these folks were to get themselves into this almighty row, to put themselves into the hands of consultant disputomaniacs, lawyers, experts, judges, arbitrators, adjudicators, mediators and me.
So my CIOB hosts and their architect, engineer and lawyer guests wanted to know how to āavoid disputesā. My throw-away first line was to āgive early-warning noticesā; I said folk simply donāt send such notices. āDear me,ā says the employerās QS during the final account row, āyou canāt make a claim for loss and expense, Mr Contractor because, er, well, you failed to send a notice as demanded in the contractual bumf.ā Itās a sort of gotcha argument, and it is run even though everyone knew months before that the contractor was being messed about with. So, my suggestion was to avoid a dispute by sending in those notices.
All this aggro, these basic ingredients for conflict are all about doing what the contractual bumf tells you to
Then I spotted one or two faces wrinkle, a few noses turned up, a few bottom lips drooped. It was plain that these chaps didnāt like sending ācontractualā notices. Subcontractors donāt like sending them to the main contractor. āIt puts the shutters up,ā said one of the CIOB folk. Another explained how it could, no would, spark a dispute; another said it destroyed the working relationship.
Think about it. You write a letter even in the most pleasant language, giving notice that you are suffering loss and expense because the architect is late issuing information, or that the drawings contain a cock-up. Think, too, about the subcontractor that writes to the main contractorās head office complaining that his lads canāt make headway, canāt lay screeds, canāt erect steelwork, canāt install widgets because the managers put on site by the main contractor canāt organise a booze-up in a brewery. Go on, write that letter as the contract says you must and see what happens. Itās called āgiving noticeā.

āWell,ā says the QS at the tail end of the job, when everyone is ready to punch each other, āyou didnāt give notice.ā āAnd that,ā adds the lawyer, āis a condition precedent.ā The warship is coming out of port.
The search is on to exploit a mistake so as to run a counter-claim. A game of tit-for-tat gets under way
What does the contract say? It says that if the contractor makes written application to the architect stating he has incurred, or is likely to incur, loss and expense and does so as soon as he twigs that the architect has proved himself to be as competent as a baboon then, after a helluva row, he might get a few bob compensation.
So I asked the room what warships coming out of port meant. Reprisals, thatās what. Spite descends ā oneās colleagues start becoming āthe other sideā, the opponent. One chap reassured me: āI never sulk when I receive a whingeing notice about loss and expense ⦠I just make sure they regret it in the long run.ā
Ah, do you see that this aggro, these basic ingredients for conflict are all about obeying what the contractual bumf says you shall, must, will do ā write a notice. The warship circles. The āother sideā starts looking for a mess-up, even half a mess-up by the sender of the notices. The search is on to exploit a mistake so as to run a counter-claim. A game of tit-for-tat gets under way. Duff work is listed, scheduled, complained about, as is poor progress. Then the contractor complains about the employerās team having one head, two arms, and two legs ā¦
The contract means well. It says please tell the other party when you think an event happens that might eventually mean money is to be shelled out. It sounds like good sense, but in real life it begins what is known as the āpeace-war gameā. ŠŌ°ÉµēĢØ a building requires co-operation, but the relationship is commercial. One side, at least, is there to make a profit. The relationship is fragile, too. It works while each party is co-operative. But if A provokes B, B will retaliate. Thatās the start of the game, and the oddity is that the building contract orders A to provoke B or lose money. And eventually he does provoke B and loses more money than he could have dreamed of.
Postscript
Tony Bingham is a barrister and arbitrator at 3 Paper ŠŌ°ÉµēĢØs Temple
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