From the Labov Sales Channel blog:
Bad Used-Car Salespeople
Can anyone explain them? The “Now, I owe it to myself to tell you, Mr. Griswold, that if you are thinking of taking the tribe cross-country, this is your automobile. The Wagon Queen Family Truckster. You think you hate it now, but wait till you drive it” approach to selling used cars is alive and well, believe me. Pencil-thin mustache, pinky ring, “I’ve been doing this for 18 years and I’ve never seen a car this clean,” “don’t take my word for it, take it for a spin yourself,” “it’s had a 115-point inspection —”
Then began a dialog that nearly came to blows in front of my 21-year-old daughter, Elizabeth. The car we were looking at was for her.
Me: “What was inspected on the vehicle?”
Pete (name changed), the car salesman: (Pause. ) “Well, I’m not sure, but I can check with my service manager.”
Me: “Is this a CPO (Certified-Pre Owned) vehicle?” (I knew it wasn’t; it was too old).
Pete: “Oh, no, it’s too old for that.”
Me: “And there are at least 20,000 miles too many.”
Pete: “You in the car business?”
Me: “You could say that.”
Pete: (wryly) “You ever sell cars?” (He had me now! And he just lost the sale.)
Me: “No. Have you? Or do you just bullshit your way through every transaction like you’re doing right now?”
Pete stared at me menacingly. I really wanted him to make some kind of move. “That was some testosterone fest you guys had,” Liz said later.
Me: “I think I’ll take that test drive now.”
We get back to the dealership and Pete approached us.
Pete: “Well? What did you think?” (Like our conversation never happened)
Me: “It’s a nice car. A little light on the low-end torque, but that’s to be expected.”
Pete: “Ford makes good engines, though.”
Me: “This 1.6-liter Duratec engine is a Yahama design.”
Pete: (To my daughter) “Well, what do you think?”
Liz: “What did you find out about financing?”
Pete: “Oh, you’re approved without a co-signer. Very rare for a 21-year-old kid these days.”
Liz, on the feminist spectrum, makes Betty Friedan seem like Tammy Wynette. She is visibly annoyed. “What’s the interest rate?”
Pete: “10.5 percent. Pretty good for this economy.”
Liz: “The last car I financed had a rate of 3.5 percent. What was my credit score?”
Pete: “I don’t know. I can look into it.”
Enough of this. It only got worse. Word to Pete and his fellow predators. How do you sleep at night?
If you sell used cars, don’t let this be you.
–Byron
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