God of Thunder and Rock'n'Roll (archmage) wrote,
God of Thunder and Rock'n'Roll

Car Salesmen

You know, I try to give every person a fair shake. Just because your profession is one that has been a joke meaning shifty, slimy, and ruthless for ages, doesn't mean I'll assume you are that way. But sometimes, people really DO live up to the stereotype.

Take today, for instance...Di got a notice from the Ford Motor Company about a part that should be replaced. Nothing major (a Wiper Motor Gear Cover), but one that obviously has had some faults. All we have to do is take the car to a Ford dealership, and it's fixed, free of charge. No sweat.

Off we go, looking for the Ford place. She returns to where she bought the car, only to find that they apparently do not sell Fords there anymore. SO, she gets out to ask one of the salesmen hanging around where she should go.

Let me just break here for a second. I watched this place, and there were 11 sales guys, just standing around, watching everything with that practised hungry eye, waiting to strike. I mean, yeesh, it was like a pack of vultures preparing to descend. Fuckin' scary.

Anyway, she walks up to the closest guy, tells him the situation, and asks where their Ford place is (all these are owned by the same guy). His response? Starts asking how long she's had the car, saying maybe this isn't necessary, and that she COULD just trade it in today, if she was interested. Do you believe this schmoe? Always Be Closing, I know, but Christ, someone asks you a direct question about a place, and you're trying to sell them a new car. Obviously, she's trying to take care of the car she HAS, asshole. Finally, after she mentions it's a lease, but he can have it for 10 large, he shuts up and gives her the directions.

On the way out, we see, across the street, a '98 Viper that was just sweet...in fact, I believe my comment was "holy shit, that's pretty...damn, I think I'm getting hard!". We decided we'd come back and drool over it after we were done. Off we go to the Ford place, where I get out to talk to the vultures...because one of them is walking up before the car is even in Park. Short, sweet, to the point, I get the info I need (maybe because I'm a guy...car sales people seem to have this bias), and off to the service department I go, make an appointment to get this done, and we leave, off to go check out the Viper.

Silver with dark blue accents, dark blue interior, low to the ground and lean as a whippet, the curves on this thing could only be challenged by a 40's movie starlet. It had seen some better days, and looked as if it could use a touch of cosmetic work (nothing you'd notice unless you were within licking distance), but damn, I'd have stolen it if I thought I could get away with it. We sigh and walk back to the car.

Now, about this time, a salesman runs up. Not walks, RUNS. I laughed internally, since he had a heavy Russian accent, and it was all I could do not to respond in kind. He greets us and tries to ask what he can do for us today ("Fuck Off" I thought). I told him that no, we weren't shopping today, just staring with lust at the Viper. "No car today? " he asks. "Why not?"

Now, here I am, standing next to him. 6'3", 270 pounds, long scruffy hair (no shower yet today), black jeans and black "Headbanger's Ball" t-shirt, sandals, iron cross ballcap, leather jacket...what do YOU think, do YOU think I look like I can afford a Viper, even a used one? Also keep in mind that I have turned away form him more than once, to open my door...the universal sign of "I am no longer talking to you." However, I'm Southern at heart, and I can't just jump in the car while he's talking to me and cut him off...he IS just doing his job (no matter how slimy he is being about it). SO, I turn, look down into his eyes, and say "Because, that's a sweet little car, and I doubt my big ass will fit in it." We laughed, and he got the hint, and away we went.

Car Salesmen. You'd think some of them would try to work AGAINST the stigma their job carries.

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