The salesman we never met

Car salesman get a bad rap. Sometimes they are just too funny for words. Or is it pathetic? Not always, of course. You decide!

My husband, Steve, and I have been researching the possibility of purchasing a new-to-us truck. While not a necessity, a full-sized truck would make pulling a travel trailer easier-and-safer, enduring the longer trips more comfortable for me, save the time that is now spent filling up the gas tank of our current truck every 150 miles, and set us up for potential needs in retirement. Eeeek, I said the R word! This process of shopping has taken us online all over the internet and the country east of the Mississippi River. We have narrowed down the financing, make, model, and features that would work best for us. So we decided to ask for more information on a few vehicles . . .

If you ask for more information on an auto-trader type of website, the person who responds may or may not know anything about the vehicle of interest. A pop-up screen appears with the picture of Natasha, Megan, or some other cute gal, inquiring if we would like to “chat more?” Every time I have typed in a question via this method I am literally tricked to give some level of personal information before the mystery writer on the other end disappears to “ask a salesperson.” Virtually never does a complete answer follow but a notice that a real salesperson will call you SOON. This is true whether it is a Saturday night (and dealerships are closed on Sunday) or the wee hours of the morning! Good news: someone usually does call you back! Bad news: this will be every day for the foreseeable future until you block them! Sish!

If you happen to send an inquiry on a vehicle directly through the website of the actual dealership, the experience might be slightly better. Only problem is that you never really know to whom you are communicating. “Kami” has been calling us twice per day since we inquired about a truck and the inventory at the dealership where she works but she never really knows information about it beyond what we can both read on their website. Surely she’ll get back to me twice per day on Monday . . . and Tuesday . . . and . . . I think she is working from home somewhere remotely. At least she speaks fluent English!

Forget just showing up at a dealership and seeing what they have on their lot to take a test drive. In our town, the local dealership of a prominent automaker does not have any new or used current models on its lot of the type in which we are interested. NONE! No trucks! (Well, except for the 3 year-old model of an outdated style that reeks of cleaning and air freshening solutions! More about that one in a moment.) So it wasn’t until my husband decided that maybe it would still be nice to deal with someone locally, perhaps ordering a vehicle from somewhere else to be delivered to the dealership nearby, that we learned just how crazy this sales process can be. Let’s say the salesman’s name is JS.

JS got my husband’s contact information from a car-finder on our insurance company’s website and Steve filling out a form requesting more information. I called and someone said that they had a few trucks coming in a few days. The website of the dealership didn’t reveal that they had any trucks in their inventory, but when Steve called, his salesman said there were THREE TRUCKS being delivered by the weekend. “Would you like to come in for a test drive? Saturday afternoon at 1?” He said he would call if the trucks came in but never called back before the weekend. We headed to another dealership out of town instead.

Then JS called the next week to say that he had found the perfect vehicle for us in Cayenne Red (my favorite) with every feature we were seeking! He listed them one-by-one during that lengthy conversation. Was JS reading them off of the manufacturer’s brochure? The price was $9,000 above our top figure but he was still asking us to make another appointment for a test drive. Of course he was. Steve agreed when JS stated they could make some concessions on the price. The following Saturday afternoon we went to go meet JS.

We arrived at the dealership after stopping at a car wash for my Nissan Frontier that we might offer as a trade-in. We were kind of excited to be working with someone so close to home (as our hunt for a truck took us away from home for 6 hours the previous weekend) and what our negotiating skills might yield. As soon as we walked in the door, a young man sharply dressed in a wool overcoat greeted us and asked if we were here to see a Nissan Titan. Wow, yes we are! They knew we were coming! The only problem was that JS was with another customer and not available at that time; would we like to take a seat and wait? We asked to see the fabulous truck. This man would check into what he could do. He didn’t think they had any trucks that fit our description in their inventory though. We did not see any either.

The circus that followed was shocking at the time and rather comical to us a few hours later. A quick look around the showroom at this point found other young and middle-aged sales folks circling around as if sharks in dark waters searching for their prey. An older saleswoman drifted by, looked out the window in front of us, made small talk about the weather and the yard work she needed to finish, and thus consumed another 5 minutes of our wait for JS. The first salesman came over again then the “Manager” who was dressed more like a middle-aged model for GQ magazine than a car salesman working on a Saturday. He confirmed what the first man had revealed that there were NO NEW MODELS but he could show us a USED CURRENT MODEL if we wanted to see it. We were at the beginning of an acute case of shock yet agreed. What is going on? We said little between us.

An older black Nissan Titan appeared outside the glass doors nearby. It was not as the Manager had described and certainly not a current model! We had expressed early in our conversations with these sales folks and every other salesperson with whom we have consulted that the vehicle could not contain artificial fragrances of any kind. New car smell is one thing. Synthetic fragrances in a newer-used vehicle we test drove the prior weekend sent me into a 30-minute convulsive episode requiring prescription medication to stop it! The illness confounds the vehicle-buying process for sure but hey, we are in no hurry. This point is a deal-breaker, however.

Mr. GQ quickly re-appeared and conceded that the truck out front was a year older than he had initially stated, was his own demo model, and smelled heavily of fragrance. Hmmmm. THE MANAGER didn’t know the year of the truck he personally had driven for awhile? We appreciate that he at least disclosed about the fragrances. He suggested we come back later and we wondered why we would do that? Out loud we politely declined his suggestion; he shook our hands, thanked us for coming, and we left our local dealership. The cool, fresh air outside snapped us back into reality. What had just happened? We’re not entirely sure but being bamboozled is a part of it!

But wait, there’s more! Steve and I were still having a nice time together that afternoon which was a delight given the ravages of the illness that I have been battling for many years. We decided to head to our local YMCA walking trails for a hike then later have a nice meal at a fresh-foods type of restaurant that had recently opened. Somewhere within the next hour or so, came the rest of the story.

JS emailed us at 3:47 pm, stating he had just received our appointment confirmation from hours earlier and asking if we still wanted to come over to the dealership to meet with him? Um, we had left there around 3:30! Unbelievable. Inconceivable even! Was he saying that the FOUR salespeople we talked to in total did not let JS know that his customers had already been there for the appointment that several salespeople knew about when we walked into the door?  Did JS not SEE the black Titan parked right outside the front doors and wonder who else was taking a look at it? Oy vey, we had to laugh out loud on this one!

Steve and I live in a smaller town and really try to support local businesses, even the national chains that might be owned locally. Our experience with multiple corporate-owned dealerships hasn’t gone that well, however. Tough to support the families (oh yeah, this line is a tear-jerker) of car salesmen who don’t treat you right! Did I tell you the story of another truck salesman 6 months ago who tried to sell me a model with the year-and-features that were different from the one he said he had on the lot for me to test drive? (They had just dropped in a bedliner that morning for me. How nice. But why then was it dirty?) Or the salesman at the dealership we visited last weekend who said they could treat their otherwise perfect vehicle for fragrances and would get back to us? He even called back to update everything then we never heard from him again. What happened?

Perhaps the title of this blog should be, The case of the still-hungry salesman. Strike 2: 2 weekends in a row these dudes have gone AWOL and that is o.k. with us. Perhaps their blog about us would read, The case of the challenging customer.   That is o.k. with us too. Regardless, these are what you would call “first-world problems.” Life will go on despite the sharks in the proverbial waters of unsavory car dealerships. Thankfully, all car salesman and dealerships are not like this. We have a Christian friend who sells older used cars quite honorably. I just hope if this truck purchase is meant to be for us that we don’t meet anymore shysters like the ones we have encountered thus far. It’s o.k. if they try to wheel-and-deal, even post something online for sale to create intrigue (but not like another dude that claimed he was selling “by owner” when it was really “by dealership!”).

Next! Treat us dishonestly and you will never see our signature on the dotted line. We will go AWOL too! JJ and SH

car salesman, story, sales, woman, shyster, things go wrong, truck, purchase
‘Let’s get one thing straight. I don’t want your money, I want your respect.’

The Gray Beast

Half a ton carries a lot

So we are set should I ever have the need,

At least until next week

When my puddle jumper returns.

The deer’s fate I have no knowledge

Except that Bambi got flung into the darkness

Certainly more shook up than I was

That night headed to the shop for an oil change.

Surprised me how attached I’d become

To my guy-ish version of wheels

Once from the land of the subcompact

And originally that of motor heads.

You just can’t beat having a truck

When you’ve got a load of stuff to haul

‘Cause you’re only as good as your dirt

So I craft it like a 7-layer salad in June.

That manual tranny Frontier of my Dad’s

Got me hooked after he passed his on to us

That 4 on the floor got reincarnated

Sitting high, left foot free, cruising on down the road.

I guess she’s enough for me in a 4 x 4

Kinda basic as today’s beasts go

With room for the pup in the King Cab

Now that’s motoring ‘specially with a trailer in tow.

But alas the “21” has work needed too

A little recall to reinforce the tongue

Looks like soon all our wheels will be super duper

Even my beloved’s tires are new!

Thank you Lord for the Gray Beast

Although we never really bonded, it’s true

Since you smelled like a cheap hotel

Just like that song ’bout lovin’ in a Chevy van?

Tee hee.  Or more like that Chevy commercial, you rock too!  JJ

2018 Chevy Silverado: Like a rock!

The County Sheriff and a mobile compost pile

Sometimes the dirt in your life follows you around for awhile . . . literally!

The weather was unusually warm here in the Midwest of the United States this past December.  By “warm” I mean that it was still in the 50’s and that was all I needed to do a little gardening project still left undone from the prior season.  Factor in the heartache of having been too sick to do it earlier, you can see why I jumped at the chance to get some dirt under my fingernails before the snow was set to fly!

And so I did.  The borders around the flower beds and tree in our front yard were re-cut and tidied up for the wintry freeze to follow. A Master Gardener simply cannot have her front yard unkempt when visitors were set to come for Christmas celebrations . . . even if they are not into landscaping!  Afterwards I felt a little better about the whole thingy.  The cuttings went into the bed of my truck like they always do with the intent of making a quick trip to dump it at the town compost pile.  That never happened.  Such a bummer being sick virtually all of the time . . .

Flash forward two months.  I was headed in my truck to my doctor’s office, hoping that they would see me on time.  Usually we patients can call ahead to see how far he is running behind and to leave our phone number for a call when they have an exam room available for us.  The phone lines were either turned off or unanswered when I had tried to call so I hurried to get on my way, lest I lose my appointment altogether!  This arrangement is a minor inconvenience for most folks but a major undertaking for me these days.  I had a more severe seizure attack waking up that morning and barely had enough time to get ready, grab some of my special food for the day (these appointments require 3+ hours plus I had an IV treatment at the hospital next door for another 4 hours later on), and focus enough to get myself out the door.  Maybe I should have had Steve drive me to the appointment?

Clearly I was a little distracted.  The purpose of the appointment was to re-evaluate the first month of IV treatments for Lyme disease.  I had first treated Lyme disease 4 years ago and it was a disaster; the next 4 years were spent taking down other infections and toxicities to get ready for intense treatment of Lyme that likely had been underlying ongoing health issues for a very long time.  The process has been most difficult.  I would learn in this appointment that the burning in my forearms that occurred during the past 5 infusions of the antibiotic (Rocephin) had caused superficial phlebitis!  All I knew is that they hurt.  More treatment recommendations would follow to add to my already complex treatment regime.  Everything came clearly into focus when I saw that beige-n-brown Dodge Charger sitting alongside Auburn Road.

As soon as I saw him I knew that I was in trouble.  That’s the color of the County Sheriff vehicles and I was traveling 14 miles per hour over the speed limit!  I thought I was only 9 MPH but unfortunately I did not see the traffic sign until my trip home!  He followed me for a block or so before turning on his flashing lights.  I sat stunned by the side of the road.  The Sheriff turned out to be friendly young lad, albeit dressed in his intimidating finery.  He recognized my last name and asked if I knew someone that he did by that name in another town?  Nope.  I could hardly speak.  “May I call my Doctor’s office?  I am running late for an appointment,” I asked.  “Sure,” he replied as he took my ID cards and walked back to his beast on wheels.  If he was friendly did that mean that he would have mercy on my story and not give me a ticket?

Nope again.  The “icy” conditions warranted a citation.  He spouted off more instructions than I could understand then left me with a cheap ticker-tape style TICKET.  All I could do was pull over onto a local street to gather myself to figure out what to do next.  The Doctor’s office finally answered their phone, apologized for not picking up earlier as they were short-staffed and stated that the Doc was running 1 1/2 hours behind schedule (as usual!).  “Would I like to leave my phone number for a call when they were ready?”  Sure, no problem I thought to myself . . .

Somehow I managed to contact my hubby at work and return home.  The struggle to leave the house earlier that morning resulted in a very expensive speeding ticket with funds earmarked for adjunct treatments not the county coffers.  I was upset at myself and upset at this wretched illness.  I was guilty of speeding.  I had not even looked down to see how fast I was travelling.  Driving a truck makes you a little over-confident in inclement weather and that false sense of security had caught up with me.  Gee, did he also notice that I still have a quarter of the bed of my truck filled with dirt, plants, and sod pieces in the middle of winter?  Perhaps not.  The pile has already begun composting into a fertile loam on sunny days!  They should make a nice, top-dressing the vegetable bed by Spring!  Maybe I’ll just leave it in there?

Sigh.  Life goes on and sometimes the State trooper is the one to remind me of this.  Regardless, if it really does get to 57 degrees tomorrow (on February 19th!) I will be digging some, Lord willing.  There’s much to do and the IV treatments are helping me feel some better.  Besides, I have a lot more room in the bed of my truck that needs to be filled dontcha know?  You can never have too much of that “black gold” stuff anyways.  :JJ

compost, gardening, truck, Nissan Frontier, garden, load, dirt,
How the professionals load compost!