Good at the Job

Car salespersons do not enjoy  reputations of trustworthiness. They rank usually right there with politicians. We recently had occasion to interact with a car salesperson. I won’t impugn his trustworthiness (although I do have my private opinion of him); I can only say that he was a heck of a salesman.

When we started car shopping, I knew how much money I had for a down payment, I knew the approximate book value of our car as a trade-in, and I had an idea of the monthly payment we could comfortably afford.  I had also done some on-line shopping and had my preference for the make and model of the car we needed. Mr. Fixit and I were on the same page. I felt prepared.

After speaking with the salesperson and explaining our wants and needs, he insisted that we test drive a vehicle. I didn’t want to do, but Mr. Fixit was ready to go. Of course, the vehicle he showed us was one with all the bells and whistles and way out of our price range. We went for the test drive. Mr. Fixit loved it; I loved it. I knew that would happen. He didn’t even show us the model we asked to see. He started talking money. Actually he started saying things like “What would I have to do to get you in that car today?” (It was the next to the last day of the month and they had quotas to meet.) I told him we had to think about it. He was persistent, very persistent. He offered to let us drive the car home. I demurred; Mr. Fixit wasn’t sure, but he knew our circumstances so he agreed with me. We left with the salesman’s sweetheart (seemingly) deal banging around in my head and wondering if everything he said was true and if we really wanted to sign up for such a big commitment.

It continued to occupy my thoughts all night. I came up with many questions about the deal he offered. I needed clarification. The next morning’s conversation with Mr. Fixit went like this: “Do you remember what he said about __________________?” He replied, “No, I don’t.” We had the same dialog on several items we had discussed the previous day.

We decided to go talk to him again with all our questions and reservations on the deal. On the way there, I said to Mr. Fixit, “I know you really want that car. We’ll do it if you want to. We’ll manage somehow.”

He said, “Let’s stop at the other dealer we spoke to yesterday (we had shopped around a bit.) and talk numbers to him first.”

We did. It was then the last day of the month. Time was short for the dealer to make his quota. We got the car we needed (not necessarily wanted) without all the bells and whistles. It looks nice, too. We signed on the dotted line, and I think we are pleased with it. The only drawback is that it doesn’t get the mpg that our little car did. It’s a small SUV. My knees no longer ache from sitting with my legs stretched out before me, and I don’t have to roll out of it. There is something about rolling out of a car that is very undignified for a lady of my body type and age. Mr. Fixit agreed that it is much easier to get in and out of for him, too.

I do have to say that the first salesman was terrific at his job. He almost talked us into buying something that we really didn’t need and really couldn’t afford. I’m still not sure of his trustworthiness, but he was a crackerjack salesman.