This happened in 2014. I was driving a lot for work. My current car was getting extremely old, and repairs were very costly, so I decided to purchase a new vehicle. I ended up deciding on a brand-new car.

I worked with the salesman and picked out the exact one I wanted, but the color I wanted was thirty minutes south at another branch. They wanted to put everything through and have me pick up the car the next day, so we went through all the financing, and I signed the paperwork.

The next day, I went to pick up the car. The color was right, but this was not the car I’d been told I was getting. I had purchased the more deluxe option. The car that showed up was a basic model. I was not happy.

Normally, when dealing with salesmen, I want to get it over with fast, so I often settle. Not this time. I flat-out told them this was a bait-and-switch, and they could either figure out how they were going to fix it, or I was canceling everything.

The dealership manager had to get involved. He was clearly angry that I wouldn’t just accept the car they tried to pawn off on me. He had the nerve to say:

Manager: “Now I have to sell this one as a used car since it was temporarily sold!”

I was pretty proud of myself for asking:

Me: “How is that my problem?”

Manager: “Why do you even want all those features?”

He dropped it when he saw my facial expression.

I wasn’t able to get the color I wanted, but I got the model and features I wanted, and they were able to get me insanely low-percentage financing. But seriously, how did they think that would fly?

I work at a car dealership as a porter. We close at 9:00 pm. Thirty minutes before closing, I see a dude pull up in a Porsche. He gets out of his car, takes two steps, turns around, and throws his hands up in frustration. 

Me: *To myself* “He’s locked his keys in the car.”

He comes into the dealership looking agitated and marches up to another porter.

Customer: “Get me a slim Jim.”

Porter: “We can’t lend those out by law.”

Customer: “Get me a slim Jim! I don’t care!”

Me: *Intervening* “Sign a waiver that you won’t hold us responsible for any damage you make to your car, and you got a deal.” 

He does so, and we watch him go at his car for forty minutes with no luck. Ten minutes after closing, I head on out.

Me: “We need that slim Jim back.”

Customer: “But I need to get back into my car!” 

I took a look at the situation up close for the first time. I obliged him by reaching into the open moonroof and handing his keys to him.

When I worked for a prestige car dealership as a collection and delivery driver, part of my job was to book customers’ cars in and maintain some sort of order in the car park.

First thing in the morning, a lady brought her car in, parking it right in front of the entrance to the workshop.

Me: “Good morning, madam. Would you like me to move your car for you?”

Customer: *Clutching her car keys in a fearful grip* “No! I don’t know who you are!“

Fair enough. I was employed by an agency, and their ID card would have meant nothing to her. I went on to explain, politely:

Me: “You can’t leave your car there as you’re blocking the workshop entrance.”

Customer: “But my car is going in straight away.”

I explained further, still politely:

Me: “Your car won’t be seen to straight away if the technicians can’t get the cars that are already in the workshop out of it.”

She wasn’t having any of it. She sashayed into the service department with her nose in the air.

Her jaw dropped when I followed her in and the service advisor handed me her keys and service book.

As I was booking the cars in, I made sure her book was at the bottom of the pile.

My car was having an odd issue. It ended up being a major component in the transmission. FORTUNATELY, it was still under warranty, so the dealership and main company paid for it all. It took them four days to get the part in and my car fixed, and I had a loaner the whole time, all fully covered.

They get done, I go in and get my car, I start pulling out of the parking lot… and I immediately swing back around to the service area.

Me: “Heyyyy.”

Service Desk: “Oh, hi! I’m sorry, was something forgotten?”

Me: “I was wondering if I could talk with whoever worked on my car real quick? There’s an issue.”

Fortunately, said fellow IS available, and he comes out.

Mechanic: “What’s the issue, sir?”

Me: “Well, did you take the car for a test drive at all, even around the parking lot?”

Mechanic: “Of course, why?”

Me: “When it’s idling, it’s fine, but the second I put my foot on the gas at all, there’s a horrible rattling or grinding sound.”

The mechanic gives me a look like he doesn’t believe me and is just humoring me as we head to the car. I hop in, turn the car on, and rev the engine, and there’s the noise. His eyes go huge. We pop open the hood and, at his request, I rev it a few more times.

Mechanic: “Oh, God. Turn it off! I found it!”

Me: *Doing so* “What happened?!”

About three seconds later, he closes my hood, hand held up with something shiny in it.

Mechanic: “Someone who was in charge of putting the covers back on left the magnetic head of the torque wrench on a nut.”

Me: “Man, I’m glad I didn’t have my music up yet so I could hear that! If that had fallen off in the middle of the road, I’d have had a heart attack.”

Mechanic: “You should be good now. If anything else makes a weird noise, let us know.”

I thanked him and drove home, still with the radio off. Thankfully, no more noises — yet!

Once, a store intentionally made it so I couldn’t “take my business elsewhere”.

For Christmas six years ago, we traded in our old compact car for a new minivan from the same brand to accommodate our expanding family. We got to the dealership at about 2:00 pm and had our van selected by 3:00 pm. They had to go to another dealer to get it in the color we wanted, but they told us that it would only take an hour. I took my family home in the compact during that hour and returned alone to do the paperwork to purchase the van.

The purchase included trading in our compact. The new van arrived and I inspected it. All was well. I gave them the keys to my compact. We’d already agreed to the trade-in value and 0% financing for my new van. They took my compact to their service area and told me it would be just a short wait to meet with the finance person to sign the paperwork on my new van.

It was about 5:00 pm by then, dark (because it was December), and beginning to snow (also because it was December). I told my wife I’d be home by dinner.

Six o’clock rolled around, and I was still waiting.

Then seven.

They kept telling me it would be “just a few more minutes”.

Finally, at around eight, I’d had enough. I wanted to cancel the whole deal and just take my compact home, but they’d already taken off the license plates and the wheels and, according to them, the mechanic who could put the wheels back on was gone for the day.

I was trapped.

They could tell I was agitated, though, and I guess that sped up the process a little. When I finally got in to see the finance lady, she was very nice and apologetic. She said that her helper didn’t show up, she was swamped, and the salesperson shouldn’t have had me wait like that. She figured that he was afraid that if he told me the truth — that it would take several hours to get financed — I’d walk away from the deal.

Once I was in her office, the financing part took fewer than twenty minutes. They gave me the keys, and I drove home on a cold, snowy December night, angry at the feeling that I’d been lied to for the previous four hours.

Dinner was cold, and my kids were already asleep. I was robbed of a nice evening at home with my family, watching it snow from the warmth of my home.