My new car smells like french fries

I hate salesmen.

Okay, that is not entirely true. I work with two perfectly nice salesmen. They are not evil people. They may have absolutely no clue how to use a computer, but they do rather well with that telephone contraption thingy that frightens the crap out of me, and for that they have my admiration. I suspect they have their slimy days like any other salesmen, but as they are not trying to sell ME anything, we happily coexist in our little eight-person office, me ordering them not to touch my databases and them earning money to fund my paycheck.

So I will amend that to: I hate salesmen who are trying to sell me something. Especially (dum dum dum) CAR SALESMEN.

When Phillip and I first thought we might need to junk my beloved automobile and buy a mode of transportation that ran something more reliable than hamsters and daily injections of gold dust gasoline, we went first to the Subaru dealer. Phillip's car is a Subaru and he loves it so. (The reason I don't just drive his car is because it is a STICK and I have yet to learn how to DRIVE a stick, though I have attempted such a thing many MANY times, so many times that we've both decided the venture is POINTLESS as continuing to focus on it will RUIN OUR MARRIAGE. Moving on.) So we thought: trade in the stick Subaru for a non-stick Subaru! Plus, we are Pacific Northwesterners and Pacific Northwesterners love their Subarus. Subarus shriek, "WE ARE ONE WITH NATURE", even if they are owned by camping-means-a-motel people like Phillip and me. (Phillip will be annoyed that I wrote that, but going snow caving that one time does not mean you are an outdoorsy person.) So anyway. We need to keep up the facade, people. This is why Phillip has an REI rewards card and I occasionally spout such nonsense as, "Let's go on a hike this Labor Day!" (Ha! That is hilarious.)

So off we went to the Subaru dealer where we encountered a Creepy Condescending Bastard masquerading as a Subaru Salesman. I am positive I wrote about this miserable example of human behavior on this here website, but I am going to write about him AGAIN. Let's call him CCB for short. We told CCB we were there to find out about trade-in values. We weren't sure what car we were interested in. How could we know what car we could afford if we didn't know our trade-in value? Now I am a little wiser and know that the trade-in value depends entirely on what kind of car you want and when you'll buy it and the color of your hair and whether you compliment the pictures of the dealer's kids on his desk and if you are right handed. But at the time, I just wanted to know if we could afford a stinking Forrester.

CCB: Well! Let's get you test driving a Forrester!

Maggie: We're not ready to test drive a car.

CCB: How about a Legacy?

Maggie: We are not interested in a test drive. We are interested in the car we OWN. What might you give us for the car we OWN.

CCB: Are you going to have kids soon? A Forrester is GREAT for kids!

Maggie: Actually, I hate kids. Can we find out about a trade-in value?

CCB: Well, I don't know what you're doing here if you don't want to buy a car.

Maggie: FOR THE LOVE OF GOD SHOW ME A *#@$%&( TRADE-IN VALUE.

(Notice that Phillip was mysteriously silent, even though it was decided that he would do all of the talking. He wasn't, however, saying the things I thought he should say. I thought I would take over, which only made sense, seeing as how I have never ever bought a car before AND I am deathly afraid of salesmen. See! Perfect sense!)

Finally he took us to his little office and pulled up Kelly Blue Book values on his computer.

CCB: Your car is worth about $57.43.

Maggie: Hmm. That's kind of low.

CCB: Look. You could find this stuff online yourself. You don't need me.

Maggie: Yes, but we thought we could come here and find out some options-

CCB: You know, I just don't want to waste your time. Time is money. Time flies. Time is valuable.

Maggie: Huh?

CCB: Wasting time doesn't help you, doesn't help me, and MAN you guys are IDIOTS what is WRONG with you, do you not know how to use the INTERNET? Now do you want to test drive a car?

Maggie: WE ARE NOT BUYING A CAR TODAY SHUT UP SHUT UP SHUT UP.

And it just disintegrated from there, with CCB implying that we were not worth his trouble, so hard it was to look up a stupid trade-in value, and me growing more offended by the second. On the ride home Phillip said, "MAGGIE! This is what car salesmen DO! You just GO WITH IT!"

I said, "Why should I go with ANYTHING? I am the CUSTOMER! You do not act like a condescending put upon ASS in front of your CUSTOMER!"

Phillip said, "Next time I am doing the talking. We will muzzle you."

I said, "NEXT TIME? There's not gonna BE a next time! Like I'm gonna buy a car from THAT CREEPY CONDESCENDING BASTARD!"

Which is when we put the whole car purchasing thing on hold and reverted back to more familiar comfortable arguments, like how to load the dishwasher (answer: my way) and whether one should signal before switching lanes (answer: yes. Always. Is there some refusal-to-signal-as-it-demonstrates-a-point-of-weakness gene in men? Like, signaling means they are not superhuman or something? MY GOD. Signal already!).

When we decided to open up the car issue again, we were not looking at Subarus, we were looking at horribly expensive fuel-efficient cars. We went to the dealership with the following arrangement: Phillip would do the talking, I would promise not to open my mouth unless I was feeling cramping in my chest and shooting pains down my left arm.

But people, it is much easier to buy a car that everyone wants and must be specially ordered from the secret mountain bunker where the popular cars are kept out of the reach of the unwashed masses. Because you don't have to dicker on the price. The salesman just says, "This is how much it costs, sucka," and you either say Yay or Nay, because if you are not interested, he just moves down to the next person on the list. SO EASY. This also cuts the slimy in half. In half! There is no need for slime when there's no need to convince you of anything.

Too bad we didn't like those cars. Those cars sucked.

We found The Perfect Car a few days later. A horribly expensive fuel-efficient car, yet put together with something stronger than rubber cement and milk cartons. We SPECIAL ORDERED this car from a salesman who was nice enough, with only a small amount of slime. It was done. It was final. We had to wait until we were 47 years old for the car, but it was The Perfect Car.

THEN. Then!

Last night I got home and listened to the phone messages. It was the car salesman with disappointing news. "So, uh," he said. "So the manufacturer is, uh, not making your, uh, car anymore. Uhhhhh... Call me!"

So I called him. "Wassup wit dat?"

"Yeah, I don't know." He sounded rather unhappy, as if he'd been dealing with people like me all day. "They kind of put us in a bad spot."

"So there is no car for me? I have to keep driving the beloved yet craptastic automobile indefinitely? Because the manufacturer decided not to make any new cars until 2008?"

He explained it to me. Styling kits blah blah blah emission standards blah blah blah different kind of engine blah blah blah. Then- THEN- he said "But! I have a customer who cancelled his order! Which means I have a car just like the one you ordered in my storage facility! Which is a hop step away from you! Which I can have ready for you in a SNAP!"

Phillip and I went to the dealer this morning with our jaws set, our determination not to be twisted around the little finger of a slimebag salesman pumped and ready. We would ask questions! We would be picky! We would demand to see a dozen different documents! Which means, of course, we bought the car about three minutes after we showed up.

So get this, Internet. The manufacturer stopped building special order cars. And because of that, we are getting our brand new car TOMORROW rather than THANKSGIVING. It is exactly the same, except the inside is gray and not black. I don't know about you, but I can live with gray. (Phillip had to think about it. Nerd.) It also means we have to part with many of our hard-earned dollars a little earlier than we expected, but really, who likes having a lot of money in the bank? NOT ME!

Whee! I am so excited. I will be sure to update you with my next car-related fight with Phillip, which will center around whether or not he'll let me put on my BE LIKE DAR WILLIAMS: USE BIODIESEL bumper sticker.

Comments

[baggage]

Yay for your new car. Geo is a car salesman but he is not at all like that. It turns people off more than anything. The guys who are like that usually aren't making any money so they are aggressive and rude.

[Maureen]

Wait, you got a biodeisel car? I'm jealous. You shame me and my Civic Hybrid. Sure, it gets great mileage, but I'm still using up a non-renewable resource! Just watch out for contact with SUVs and pick-up trucks.

[Christina/Mrs Broccoli Guy]

ha ha, you make me laugh every. time. !! B~ hates when I go car shopping with him because he says I talk too much and tell them unnecessary things. Might be true but when we bought our Toyota van I got the price down lower because I said we were heading to Honda next and I wasn't even doing the tricky-pretend-to-go-elsewhere-thing, I was just chatting!. Congrats on your new car purchase!! :-)

[Antonia]

haha!!

Congratulations on the new car!!

[orangepaas]

hey, congrats on the new hippie car! Color me jealous...and next time, just try to sell your car on Craigslist, don't bother trying to trade in at the dealership! Yikes!!!