Sales Pressure

So my ancient clunky Chevy finally died — it owed me nothing whatsoever, I might add — so Mister Man and me went out car shopping.  I hate this, dealing with car salesmen (yes, men — if there any women in car sales, I have yet to see ’em) and their condescension and pushiness. It’s aggravation that I don’t need.

We went to one used car place, that has a good reputation in my neighbourhood, and we’re poking around this car and that one, looking for something decent, and thinking about which ones we might want to test drive.  The salesman comes out, slick and unnaturally tanned, and Mister Man talks to him about this and that. And then buddy says, “Well, I can’t stand here all day and wait for you to test drive every vehicle in the lot — I’m not the test drive guy. Just pick one, and when you’re back we’ll make a deal.”

I see Mister Man’s jaw just tighten a bit, and I know this jerk is not getting any of our business.  I thank the salesman, say we’ll think about it, and we leave.

In the car, Mister Man says, “If I’m going to give fifteen or twenty thousand to that jackass, I’ll drive every goddamn car on the lot buck-naked if it pleases me.”

So we went to another dealership, just down the road from our house, and were treated very seriously and respectfully, and we test drove several cars, and finally bought something brand-new, for just a few thousand more than the used because of factory and dealer rebates.

Well, I thought, buddy at the used car place really screwed himself out of a commission.  But then I thought, used car salesmen aren’t idiots, and obviously it’s a line that’s worked before — “I’m too busy to talk to you.” I wonder how many people have fallen for it?

Quite a few, I’m thinking.

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