This weekend I had a surprise inadvertent adventure - one that led me down a path of deception, battles, loss, and midlife crisis aversion. An adventure I recognize as a trip through a jungle of terror with rabid creatures attacking your jugular - trying to steal your precious property at every turn in the road, every slash of the underbrush. An adventure that requires steely manparts, a firm resolve, and a commitment to survival in the pursuit of triumph. You, on the other hand, will likely recognize it as a new car purchase.
On Saturday, we received in the mail a flyer from a nameless auto dealer that had all of the telltale signs of lies, deceit, and crookery - "Bring in your car! Trade in for $1500 above Kelly Blue Book Value! We'll give you a great deal! Promise!" Hm. I know I'm not always the most commonly sensical of beasts, but I detect something the brilliant writers at South Park refer to as 'a turd in the punchbowl.'
As it turns out, the flyer was referring to MY car. I would have just ignored it, but I have to be honest - the prospect of a new car is a bit enticing. I didn't want to fall for this tactic right away. I've been involved - in one situation in particular - with car dealers giving me the "chance of a lifetime" to hand over my precious vehicle in exchange for a "much better deal". In this particular case of "fooled you!" buggery, if I handed over my Element and a nominal down payment of $1500, the car dealership couldn't wait to LEASE me a new car at the bargain basement price of $199 a month and 10,000 miles per year for ....drumroll please... a Nissan Sentra.
"Oh boy! Please? Can I? Can I GIVE you my car to RENT a new one? One that is sporty and speedy and sexy and sleek - like a Sentra? Oh, go on now, boys. That's not fair. I'd get arrested for highway robbery with a deal like that. I can hear my Catholic grandmother just screaming in agony at the egregious sin I would commit. In honor of the deceased, it is my moral obligation to pass on this screamin' deal. An extra 5,000 years in purgatory just doesn't sound like a good spiritual trade for this once-in-a-lifetime. Shucks."
But...as I said before, the prospect of a new car is a bit enticing. So, Steve and I packed up the 'mento and took it to the aforementioned dealership who sent me the flyer. I mean, after all, if someone is begging to pay me over the KBB value, I may as well let them have a gander at the single vehicle in the known universe that has as much personality as a Marshmallow Bear. Have fun, boys. Don't get pickpocketed.
As it turns out, the fine people at aforementioned unnamed dealership were reasonably uninterested in selling me a new vehicle. A very perky girl at the front counter was welcoming and courteous, but that's about where the pleasantries ceased. As we requested to speak with a dealer, a man slowly sauntered up to the front desk, making an S-shape with his footsteps as though lunchtime had provided a welcome relief from the pressures of swindling innocent and non-common-sensical beasts such as myself. I proudly presented him with my flyer as he leered sidewards at me with an authoritative and accusatory eye.
"Where'd jeeu giiiit dis?" His steely glare suggested that I had broken in to a printing press over the weekend to produce pictures of vehicles on shiny cardstock with bright red numbers on it that somehow suggested that he would not earn appropriate commissions.
"Uhhh...I got it in the mail." He whipped his head around to a nearby technician.
"Tom, are we honoring these uh...little cards, here?"
Tom, as he will now be forever known, plucks the card out of Dealerman's hand.
"Well, Jim, I don't know. I haven't seen these yet."
Little did these fellows know - they were dealing with a scientist. Common-sensical I am not, but observant? Consider me an urban lioness.
I point to the countertop Jim and Tom are leaning against. "You have a whole stack of them on your desk right behind you."
Jim slowly rotates his upper half counterclockwise, giving the obvious stack of flyers ample time to scamper off the countertop so he can proudly proclaim their absence. Apparently they had a good lunch, too, because they remained motionless on the desk. (Or, this particular stack of flyers was oddly inanimate - however unlikely.)
I could hear Jim's inner monologue dressing him down as I proudly pointed at the immobile flyer stack. "Dammit, Jim! You're a car dealer, not a magician! Duped again by a flippant blonde! Prepare to do battle with the flyer savant - she will remember all things...."
Jim determines that the best place to take me (via S-Shaped sauntering) is to the used car dealers. Clearly only a USED car salesman would stoop so low as to give $1500 over Kelley Blue Book Value for a trade-in. Now, at this point, I must declare that used car dealers get a bad rep. The only decent interaction I've had with a car salesman up until this point in my life was with a used car guy. He got me a great deal to purchase my leased car. The vehicle in question was oddly enough sold to me initially by the same unnammed car dealership I was currently at after a classic bait and switch deal. Apparently at this point in my life, I was only an Urban Cub. Used car guy took pity on me and rolled me in to a purchase. He also shared his sushi while the paperwork was prepared. Good man.
Used car guys at unnammed dealership had not seen the flyer, either. So, CarManJim was now in the uncomfortable position to try and actually do some work while his lunchtime scotch worked on him. First order of business? Bring in the heavy-hitter.
He walks us over to the hot seats and asks us to just "wait right here to see what he can do for us." About five minutes later, he reapproaches the desk with a Jerry Stiller look-alike in tow. Jerry Stiller had all of the flair of a Casino owner a la Reuben Tishkoff - olive and soil patterned golf shirt, polyester pants in the same suffocating hues, wing tip shoes, and giant turtle shell glasses reminiscent of an era gone but certainly not forgotten. His finger waved orange coif clashed brilliantly with the rest of his outfit - but blended seamlessly with his personality. I knew the kind of guy he was before he ever opened his mouth. All he needed to do was prove me right.
He started off in a calculated and somewhat threatening tone. "Now...we can give you good money for this car - I know your liddle...uh...card there says $1500 over Kelley Blue Book, and we might - just might - be able to get that for you today. That all depends." He sneers at Steve. I look directly at him. The urban lioness extends her front claws and recoils into attack position -ready for battle. Steve looks at me, and I pounce.
"It should only depend on what the ad says. The ad says $1500 over. I'm prepared to give you my great car for great money. But that all depends." Steve pinches my large toe between his shoe and the floor with an even "shut up, Staci" kind of pressure. I return Jerry Stiller's slimy smile.
"Well, now, we might be able to get you more money if you're willing to drive out of here in a new car today." Already I can tell this guy was gunning for a fight. The last time I tried to buy a car, this sort of talk didn't happen until the salesman had worn me down some. Either he was not interested in car dealership foreplay, or just completely interested in getting back to a delicious lunchtime cocktail.
"What kind of car?" I ask casually. I realize this guy hasn't even tried to figure out what kind of car I would even want to drive - never asked what I liked and didn't like about my Element, never even asked me my name, now that I think of it. Although he did brag briefly about the "amount of inventory on his lot" - so much that "his dealers have no place to park." I'm beginning to understand why this is his state of affairs. He points to the nearest SUV, assuming that this must be my car of choice.
"Well, darlin' any kinda car you'd like. How 'bout this nice CR-V over here? What would it take to get you in to one of those?"
"A family of four and a soccer carpool," I whisper to Steve. Now don't ge me wrong, a CR-V is a great car. It was the car I decided I would want in the event of a trade-in when Steve could finally get me to verbalize the kind of vehicle I wanted. The conversation went like this:
"What kind of car would you want?"
"A Blue one."
"Okaaaayyy....but what KIND?"
"The blue kind. With good gas mileage."
"We'll look at CR-Vs."
"Are they blue with good gas mileage?"
Steve sighs his exasperated sigh. "Probably."
"Allright. I'll have one of those, then." I swear I'm the only person who decides on the kind of car she would like to drive much in the manner of deciding what she wants to eat at Taco Bell.
I glance out at my little Element, and back at the CR-V. I then look at CarManJim and Jerry Stiller who are looking very expectantly at me. They're hungry, and Element with a celebration double scotch in honor of highway robbery is on the menu. I decide I don't want their pushy tactics and smarmy smiles. I just want my car.
I look at Steve. "We're done here." No one is going to steal my Element out from under my nose in such a crooked and frivolous manner. Unless it's the Toyota dealership across the street.
To be continued...
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