How to Lose a Sale

So, we don't need a new car at the moment, but our current car has some things we really don't like; namely, the visibility out the back window is for shit, and while it's not a huge safety issue, it's enough that I worry disproportionately that one of us is going to back over a kid Big-Wheeling in the driveway or one of the area strays just because we can't see them. (I don't know how both of us missed that flaw when we test-drive it, but Deeky will undoubtedly tell you it's because we're assholes, and he's almost certainly right.) We could also probably get better financing now than we did a year ago, which could lower our monthly costs.

As it's nearing the end of the model year and dealerships are offering pretty good financing rates in our area, it's a good time to look at least—especially because it's not imperative to get a new (by which I mean new to us, even if pre-owned) car, which is a refreshing situation for us in which to find ourselves. When we bought our Behemoth POS, it was after our first car was totaled in an accident and we were driving a rental for which the insurance company would only pay for a week. When we bought the Fusion, we were racing against the clock before the Behemoth POS fell to absolute pieces. So we've got all the time in the world to make a (hopefully) smart decision, and we plan on using it.

All of which I share to make the point that we're as disinterested in getting the hard sell and having smoke blown up our asses as it's possible to be.

Enter Mr. Asshole Salesman, who we're going to call Johnny Tooterpants.

The Acme Auto Co. dealership was just about to close early yesterday when we arrived, and we said, "No problem—we hadn't even realized you were open; we were just intending to drive around the lot, anyway," which was true, and all the other salesmen (deliberate usage; they were all men) left us to our evidently disinterested devices. Except Johnny Tooterpants, who wasn't even dissuaded when we told him Iain had already spoken by email to one of his colleagues, anyway (also true).

So Johnny Tooterpants is taking down our contact info on a form that provides a space to enter in which cars we're interested, and he says, "You're interested in new, not certified used…" and noted that down, and I said, "Hang on—we're interested in certified used. We'll look at new, but we're not certain what we can afford, if anything, so we want to look at both."

And he says: "Well, you don't want to look at too many options, or you'll just get confused."

Oh HELL no.

I said, rather tersely: "We're not easily confused."

To which Johnny Tooterpants replied: "I don't care how smart you think you are or how many degrees you have or anything else. Everyone gets confused if I show them too many options, so let's just stick to new."

Shakers, by this point, I was fuming. Not only is he treating us like we've never bought a car before, but he's actually arguing with me that he knows me better than I know myself. I effectively said: "We're smart and we hate bullshit," and he effectively responded with: "No, you're dumb and you LOVE bullshit!"

It was all I could do not to scream: "FUCK YOUUUUUUUUUUUUUU!" at him.

In fact, quite possibly the only thing that stopped me was my brain-seizing astonishment upon noticing he was misspelling the name of one of the two Acme car models in which we were interested on the contact sheet. When we left, Iain asked if I'd noticed he'd spelled it wrong, and I said, "Yeah. And who wants to buy a car from someone who doesn't even know how to spell its name correctly? Sure—I'll trust him to give me good info on its specs."

For his encore, Johnny Tooterpants then did that thing where I asked a question and he gave the answer to Iain, because, ya know, girlz is teh stoopid. Which drives me 'round the bend and makes Iain want to shout: "My wife has a functional brain!"

Oh, Shakers. I wish it ended there. But it does not.

This morning, the phone rings and I see that it's the dealership, so I answer out of sheer morbid curiosity. It was Johnny Tooterpants, calling to inquire whether Iain and I had decided whether we liked the Acme A or Acme B better. I said, "Since we haven't had a chance to test drive or even sit inside either of them, no, we haven't made any decisions about which we prefer." He then tells me he's got plenty of each on the lot, ensuring that I know I can walk all over him during any future negotiation. I said, "Yes, I know, thanks."

Then he asks if we were coming back in tonight before the dealership closes. I said, "That will depend on what train Iain catches and whether he gets home in time," which is the same thing we already told him yesterday. To which he responded by telling me that THE INTERSTATE IS FASTER. So, basically, Iain is a big dummy for taking the train to work, even though Johnny Tooterpants acquiesced, "it is a nice ride."

Then he tells me he wants to leave work at 6:00 tonight, but will stay if we're coming in, and asks, "Could I get a call if you're going to come in?" Now, Shakers—I have no interest in inconveniencing anyone if I can possibly avoid it. And I understand that no one wants to hang around work for a couple extra hours for no reason. But this is a guy who's trying to steal our commission from one of his colleagues, and he wants us to help him do it while making it as convenient for him as possible.

At this point, I'd really had it.

I tell him, "Listen, Iain spoke to Tommy Doodlebutt originally, and I have no idea if they've had further communication today." And he interrupted me to say, "Yeah, I just spoke to Tommy—" And I just kept talking: "So I'm going to leave that to him, if he would prefer to work with Tommy."

And he's all, "Okay, sure, but I just spoke to him, and, uh, if you can just call me if you're coming in tonight...um, so how was the rest of your Memorial Day?" Then proceeded to tell me about how his family was already grilling when he got home, like now we're obliged to buy a car from him just because he was 5 minutes late to his fucking cookout, despite the fact that we never wanted to talk to him in the first place.

What. a. wanker.

I finally extricated myself from the Most Annoying Phone Call So Far Today, and emailed Iain.

A few moments later, I was copied on an email from Iain addressed to Tommy Doodlebutt that included the note: "We spoke to Johnny Tooterpants for a few minutes yesterday, but if possible we would prefer to work with you."


Wah wah wah wahhhhhhhhhhh.