A lot of lawyers get a bad rap in our society. Sometimes they deserve it. But I’m here to tell ya, there ain’t nothing lower than a car salesman.
Today I received a letter in the mail that was marked "Cancellation Notice" on the envelope. Naturally, I was a bit concerned, so I tore it open to find a mailer from a certain local Chevrolet dealership. The mailer promises all kinds of stuff, like buying back the truck I bought from them about 18 months ago, and 2009 or 2010 trucks with monthly payments of $239, and $500 cash back, and free spray-in bedliners for every truck sold. There was even a scratch-off that said I’d won $10,000. Now, I’m happy with my 2003 Silverado, even if the salesman, sales manager and finance officer involved in that transaction were a trio of douche bags. Still, this sounds like a legitimate deal considering how desperate American automakers are to get customers, so I go to the dealership, mailer in hand.
I’m greeted in the driveway by a salesman who thinks he’s guarding Camelot. He wants to know what I want. I tell him I want to talk to somebody about this mailer. He directs me to the used car building. That was the first red flag. The mailer said new vehicles. Well, maybe that’s just where they want me to park. I’m waved into a parking space, greeting by a salesman who asks what I’m looking for. I tell him about the mailer and that I’m interested in a truck with an extended cab because I’ll be driving my kids to school this fall. He first shows me an extended cab truck that is the same model as mine, with only 5,000 miles less. Uh, no. We look at a couple of others, and finally come to a 2008 Chevy Colorado. It’s a good truck. Drives nice. But the back seats are missing. "We can get seats," he assures me. "Even if we have to take them out of a new truck."
Five mind-numbing hours later I storm off the lot in the same truck I drove in with. Somewhere in the haggling the dumbass salesman and his limp prick of a manager interpreted my "It has to have the back seats" to mean I’d be okay with no back seats. When did I learn this? After I’d filled out all the loan papers for a financial officer who left me sitting in his office for 45 minutes at one point. I was literally moving all my stuff from my old truck to the new one when I asked the salesman if they’d installed the seats or if I’d need to bring the truck back for that next week when he said I’d agreed to buy the truck without seats.
It took multiple "No seats, no deal" statements and two "Give me my title and key, I’m done" to finally get my truck back.
What the hell? I told them straight up that I wasn’t all that keen to sell my truck, that I was only considering it because I need more passenger room … and that means I’ll settle for a truck without the back seat? The kicker is that I very well might have bought two vehicles from them because they had another truck that is pretty much just want my oldest son is looking for.
The new trucks advertised on the mailer? I was told that only applied to certain trucks, but was never shows those trucks. The free bedliner? Oh, they couldn’t afford to do that with the deal they were making me on the truck I was looking at. Same for the $500 cash back. I didn’t bother to ask for my $10,000 prize. They kept the mailer. Maybe they knew I’m the kind of person who’d send it and a printout of this blog to the Better Business Bureau and Department of Commerce, or whatever state agency deals with retail fraud.
In other news, the first week of summer school went without incident. I’m very surprised by the students who seem genuinely interested in reading and critiquing The Girls Nobody Wanted to Date … the guys are more interested than the girls.
I train for a new part-time job this week. I’ll be giving ESL tests for Oklahoma City Community College. The money’s good and it’s not too many hours.
Why has it been five days since my last post? Nothing has happened, probably. That, and I’ve been busy editing a certain not-so-super-secret-anymore project. Thanks to Gayleen for reminding me of an editing edict I was ignoring. I also found that I’m a better editor when I don’t get much sleep the night before. No patience for extra words when I’m a little cranky.