The Curse of the New Car Salesman

Yesterday I visited a new car lot. You’re probably thinking that’s a dangerous thing to do and I fully agree, especially since I was just there to pick up a car that had been sent in for repairs. I was with my family and someone came up with the brilliant idea of looking at the various cars out in the lot to pass the time until the old car was returned to us. For everyone’s future reference, never do that. Instead, just stand around on the concrete, as far as possible from any new cars. It may be boring but it’s worth it.

The salesmen swarmed like vultures to a kill and before we knew it we were sedated, tagged, caged, and locked up in the showroom zoo. We were offered cold drinks and sat in comfortable chairs while Mr. Sincere spun his web around us. We were told that our trade-in vehicle (which was not there at the time) would be worth a small fortune because it was the type of car that sold like hotcakes. In fact, he even had someone interested in buying it already and could we please, please, please run back home and get it? As in, right this very second or the deal is off.

Since the answer turned out to be “no”, he turned the heat up a bit higher. Would we go get the gas-guzzling trade-in if he offered to pay us fifteen bucks for the gas? It sounded better but it was still a tough sell. Finally, after much discussion, we agreed to go get the vehicle in question, which made Mr. Sincere’s eyes light up like the Fourth of July. He even “loaned” us the new car we had settled on to drive home in. I of course, declined in order to transport my own vehicle back home. (What can I say, it was a complicated situation.)

When I got there, the others, who had all taken the freeway, were already there, and hurriedly sorting through the rubble of our important papers drawer, to find the car’s pedigree, that was finally rescued and then we got online to check out the blue book, and black book car prices. We had our printouts and our car papers and were ready to return to the dealership. This was five P.M. I stayed home to do chores on the farm. Mr. Sincere called just seconds after everyone had left, and his tone of voice told me he had the Police on line two. I told him they were on the way.

They were gone for hours. Finally at eight O’clock P.M. They came back home, having not had any supper, and were disgruntled and tired. There had been no sale. Apparently Mr. Sincere had been lying all along about there being a buyer for the old car, and after having thoroughly checked it over, driven it, and evaluated it, he decided that it was only worth about half of the small fortune he had led us to believe he would pay. Since he would not change his mind no matter what, the deal was called off, and the new car was left sitting at the dealership, where I hope it rots.

They did manage to get the money he promised to pay for the gas, plus five bucks extra, and a free coke from the pop machine, out of his own pocket, and so, felt at least slightly vindicated for the time poorly spent. We ate supper at about 8:15 P.M. I’m still digesting it. I hope Mr. Sincere stayed up half the night thinking about his lost sale and wondering what he could do differently next time. Here’s a little clue, pal. Next time, try a little honesty. That can go a long way.

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