A Surprising Turn
You know when I said on the first page of this publication that there were cuss words and politically incorrect language usage in these tales? Yeah, this one is that. Read at your own risk, it’s funny enough to publish, if you’re game enough to read it.
I got into the car business back in the old days right about 1980. I was a liner in a hard T.O. Store. Stores like ours were what put the vile hatred for car salesmen to the front of one’s mind when they decided they had to go buy a car. That crap wouldn’t fly now, but back then we were in charge and the customer was only a mark on the board and hopefully a car that got him home in one piece.
As a new salesman my job was to help a customer find a car, drive a car, and then get them to commit to buy however I could get them to commit. If I had to offer to “try” to get them the car for a ninety-five percent discount, then that’s what I was required to do. If I couldn’t get my customer to do any of that; drive a car, look at a car, sit in a car, or even slow down, my job was to turn him to another salesman. Period. Dot. Period.
We could not let them leave without talking to another salesman under threat of being fired and having to walk home, because the only car I had was a company demo. So we turned people, (T.O.). Period. Dot. I remember maybe three times where I fudged that and let someone sneak away.
I’d been in the business about a week. I barely knew where the service department was. I knew where the coffee machine was, I knew the name of my crew mates and my closer. I knew the names of the managers, but was still unsure what they did. But they were all gruff, and hated me and seemingly everyone else. I found out later it was a front, but salesman are nothing if not great actors.
I was standing out on the “point” on the raised deck that wrapped around the showroom where we displayed a few cars. It was a drab foggy valley day. I was watching the traffic drive by fiddling with the change in my pocket, probably the only money I had anywhere in the world. I was examining my life, I suppose, and wondering if this new career was gonna make it. I hadn’t sold a car yet and I’d been there for a long week, saw all my new friends sell a car or two and a few guys who sold one every day.
George had an up. Now George was an old time car guy and sold a lot of cars. He was smooth, had the gift of gab, and could turn into your favorite uncle in an instant. He and his up walked all the way across the lot and through the three rows of cars on the side of the building as well. Used cars, new cars, demos, they walked by them all. I was watching George, his arms would be waving and he was talking to the guy, but I could see the guy wasn’t responding in any way. It took them a good ten minutes to walk by all the cars, then they headed back around toward where I was standing. The guy was headed back to his car, no doubt, still wasn’t talking to George, had his head down and was walking with sure purpose. When they got near me, I heard George say to me, really loudly, “Hey Ken! I want you to meet Mr. No Name. This asshole hasn’t seen a single thing out there that’s fuckin’ free.” And George turned around and walked away back inside the showroom.
The customer’ mouth dropped open, almost as widely as mine, And he looked up and watched George depart. I could tell he was trying to say something, his mouth was moving, but no sound came out. I wasn’t even trying to say anything. I was hoping that he couldn’t see me, though I was only five feet away. I was hoping there was some magical shield in front of me and I think I was dreaming about just walking away down the road toward home.
He finally did make a sound. It was a laugh, hesitant but growing until he was full on belly-laughing. I didn’t know why, but I laughed too, ever careful, not sure why I was laughing.
When he calmed down, wiping the mirth from his eyes, he said, “ I was kind of a jerk, but I do like that red Regal over there and he pointed at a used 76 Buick Regal we had that had really low miles and was as nice as they get. I said I’d get the keys.
The rest of the deal worked just the way it’s supposed to. We drove the car, I asked him to buy, we sat down and wrote it up, and an hour later he was on his way in his new used ride and I’d sold my first car. Of course it was a split with George, and that’s how it works. I always wondered if George knew that was gonna happen. .
That was my welcome to the car bizz moment!
My first was a Suburban, two weeks after Texas Monthly Magazine came out with a cover story calling the Chevy/GMC Suburban “The National Car of Texas!” Within those fourteen days, you couldn’t conjure up a Suburban on a car lot anywhere in the Lone Star State. Except – we had one; an ugly gold color with black velour cloth seats. It was parked up by the street, and we had tons of folks come to look at it. But, the boss said, “Don’t come light,” so it was still sitting there. The Last Suburban In Texas.
Well, it was a mercilessly hot, late August afternoon in Dallas – as they typically are in the dog days of summer; I had been in the car bidness exactly six days. Most of the veterans stood under the awnings around the front of the store that provided a small slice of shade, but I was prowling around in the truck line – clipboard in hand – trying to look like I was busy learning everything I could about the Sierra pickups. It was in the trucks where all the gross was. Anyway, this guy driving a fairly new Mercedes 190 stops right behind the Gold Suburban, right where I happened to be standing. Fella gets out, walks right up to me and says, “Finally! I found one! I’ll take it!!!” Without a pause, I tell the guy, “Two grand over list. Not a penny less.” The guy doesn’t bat an eye lash, and says, “Let’s get this done before someone else steals it out from under me!”
Two hours later, I’m standing in front of the sales manager looking at the fresh commission voucher he just handed me. My first deal netted over $1,100.00. I figured I just might be able to make with this gig.
That was thirty years, and thousands of deals ago.
Hahaha! Awesome story, Pat!