I worked at one of those car lots where they sell you a $2500 car in sixty or ninety inflated payments with interest so high you end up paying $25k for it. Our office had the ridiculous “Selling Sales Manager” business model, where your boss competes with you for commission on sales, thus the boss’s success means your financial deficits, and vice versa. She was THE boss, no one else above her in our lot, anyone higher rank was across town at the underwriting offices.

She stole EVERY sale she could get away with from me.

When I was hired, she said:

Boss: “Your success is my success!”

Liar! She hated every single sale I made because in her head, it should have been her extra commission on her next check.

So finally, a customer comes in, and her name is under mine in our system, the only person I ever saw “the powers that be” replace the car she was buying when it broke down (must have gotten a lawyer), but my boss has already set her up in her office.

She lowers her voice to tell her:

Boss: “I am so sorry, it’s [My Name]’s sale. She’s not that bad, but…”

Customer: “What? I don’t want to be with a bad salesperson!”

Boss: “Well, if you want me over her, that’s a different story.”

She coaches her on saying the right words to switch salespersons. I’m livid.

I’m deciding if this is the last straw before I quit, but then I see that the customer is being really difficult. No matter what my boss does, she can’t seem to satisfy her. Finally, she spends ALL DAY tracking down parts and having the car spruced up for the lady, down to cleaning it herself out there, sweating and whining because the detail guy sucked. Unsatisfied, the customer doesn’t leave with the replacement car.

The customer comes back in at the end of the day, still unhappy, and this time has her grown son with her. My boss is now p***ed, drops the miss nice sales lady routine, and is outright trying to badger them into taking the car.

I found out it’s because there will be no commission on this sale, since it’s a replacement. The customers are being picky cause they CAN be.

I’ve already decided to quit, so I leave at closing time, even though we are supposed to stay with the other coworker if their sale runs late. 

These people had ALMOST decided to get the car. They’re standing in front of it talking. I get in my car, and as I’m leaving, I pull beside them and roll my window down and say:

Me: “Don’t let her bully you into buying anything you don’t want. It’s your money, you don’t have to get anything unless you want it, not because she decided for you.”

The customer and her son nod.

Customer: “THAT’S RIGHT!”

Me: “Keep looking until you find the right one; it’s her job to show you every single car if that’s what you want.”

Driving away, I see my boss walk out smiling because she thinks it is over, and I sat long enough at the exit to see the smile wiped right off her stupid, greedy face when she realized she’d be there all night.

I’m sitting in the waiting room of the service department. I heard an employee ask an older woman for some specific information. She didn’t know it.

Employee: “It might be in [particular email]. Can you check that?”

Customer: “I don’t know my email address.”

Employee: “Is it on your phone?”

Customer: “I only know how to access it from my home computer.”

She decided to call her daughter to ask for help. She put her cell phone on speaker at top volume while her daughter spelled out her email address one letter at a time, then spelled out her password. 

Everyone in that crowded waiting room heard every word.

I am sitting in the lobby of a Toyota dealership waiting while my car undergoes maintenance. A man comes to the counter and begins to quiz the poor worker about the parts that are going to be put in his car.

Customer: “Look, I just want to make sure it’s going to be good American parts in my car. None of that overseas stuff. It’s the principle of the thing you know.”

Worker: “I understand, sir.”

Customer: “I’m not saying overseas stuff is bad for them, they’re used to knock-offs. But I’m an American. I demand quality for my car, not that stuff. It’s the principle of the thing.”

Worker: “Of course, sir.”

Customer: “Especially that stuff from Asia. All full of chemicals and cheap. I want the real stuff. Just as good as what was there when it rolled off the factory line. I’m not saying Asian people are bad; I don’t have anything against them. I’m sure Asian people are lovely, I just don’t want their stuff in my car.”

Worker: “I hear you, sir.”

Customer: “So, can you promise that it will be only American parts?”

Worker: “I’m afraid not, sir. Some of our parts—”

Customer: “—Look here. I know how you dealerships do business. You throw whatever cheap stuff you can get your hands on in there to increase your own profit. Well, I’m not having it with my car. I want the real quality stuff, the American stuff. It’s the principle of the thing.”

Worker: “Sir—”

Customer: “I drive for a hundred miles or however long the warranty is for, then on mile hundred-and-one it breaks and I’m back here getting another replacement. I’m not having it. No more cheap stuff from China or Korea or whatever place you are getting them from. I want guaranteed American quality. It’s the principle of the thing.”

Worker: “I understand your frustration. I assure you—”

Customer: “—I want you to “assure” me that the parts are going to be American. If you don’t have any on hand, I want you to order them. I’m willing to wait, but I’m not going to have any more overseas s*** in my car.”

Worker: “We have the highest quality products that will work in your car, and I can offer you an extended warranty if you would like.”

Customer: “You’re not listening to me. Even if your overseas stuff isn’t “cheap” I want to buy American. Support our businesses. It’s the principle of the thing.”

The conversation is still going on when my car is called. I’m texting my husband the story as it goes on, and we wonder how he could think a company called “Toyota” was American.

A customer is looking at our electric vehicles, and we get to this part of the conversation:

Customer: “How far can a full charge get us?”

Me: “About three hundred miles.”

Customer: “Yes, but we live in the city. What about a country mile?”

Me: “A what?”

Customer: “I’ll be driving into the country a lot, and a country mile is longer than a regular mile. How many of those will I get?”

I’m showing a customer around one of the newer models on the lot. We get inside, and I turn on the display to show off the safety features.

Me: “This is the collision detection system. See, it shows a full view around the car. It’s useful for parking, blind spots, and tight turns.”

The screen lights up, showing the 360° view. It’s simulated as if we’re looking from above.

Customer: *Eyes wide.* “Wow. So the car has its own private satellite?”

Me: “Uh… no, sir, it’s using cameras built into the mirrors, grille, and trunk to stitch together the view.”

Customer: “Are you sure? Because that looks like it’s straight from space.”

Me: “Yes, sir. If we had a satellite parked directly above every single car, we’d probably be charging more than $40k a vehicle.”

Customer: “Yeah… but it really looks like NASA stuff. I saw they make cars for Mars now.”

Luckily for me, he’s impressed with “all this space tech,” and I make the sale. As we’re doing the paperwork, he calls his wife to say:

Customer: “Yeah, honey, I got a NASA car! You can see it from space!”

Also, luckily for me and the customer, the specific car/model/color he wants is actually on the lot.

Me: “Hey, [Coworker], can you bring around [Specific Car]?”

Coworker: “Sure. Give me a few minutes, as it’s in the satellite parking lot.”

Customer: “I knew it!”

When I was telling my coworker about it later, he seemed less enthused:

Coworker: “Ugh, I wish we had access to satellites! The dealership Wi-Fi can barely handle YouTube!”