Losing The Daddy Of All Sales

(When I am 26, in the 80s, I go to buy my first new car. I have researched the value of the car using Consumer Reports and other car-buying magazines and I know what I want to pay for it. I take my father with me; he is in his 50s at the time. At the first dealer, the transaction goes something like this — boiled down from a 30-minute conversation.) 

Me: *to the dealer* “I’d like to look at your inventory of [year] [Model]s in blue or silver with very few extras, like no moonroof.”

Dealer: *to my father* “What kind of car are you interested in today, sir?”

Father: *pointing to me* “She’s buying the car. Don’t ask me.”

Dealer: *to my father* “Would you be interested in taking out a loan?”

Me: *to dealer* “I’d like to discuss the price of the car first and take a test drive.”

Dealer: *to my father* “Would you like to go on a test drive? I need a copy of your driver’s license.”

Father: “She’s buying the car and wants a test drive, after you answer her questions.”

Dealer: *to my father* “I think we can get you set up in a test drive, if you’ll come this way.”

Me: *to the dealer, holding my checkbook above my head and waving it like a flag* “I’m buying the car and I’d like to ask some questions.”

Dealer: *to my father* “Sir, come right this way for a test drive.”

(I got up, still waving my checkbook and walked out the door. My father got up and followed me.)

Dealer: *to my father* “Sir! Where are you going?”

Father: *shrugging at the dealer* “I’m with her.”

(I glanced back to an astounded look on dealer’s face as his guaranteed car sale drove away.)