My boyfriend and I went to a local RV dealer with $20k to spend so we could camp in style. The place was small, just one salesman, so we were fine waiting while he finished up with another customer.

About ten minutes later, he came over, already brisk and dismissive. I’m a twenty-something, blonde, hippie-looking girl. My boyfriend’s a tired, grease-stained mechanic. We could practically see the thought bubble over the salesman’s head: “Ugh, these kids are just here to waste my time.”

He rushed us through a couple of trailers in our budget but clearly couldn’t get rid of us fast enough. Finally, he walked us back out to the parking lot. 

We unlocked the doors of our brand-new Camaro V8.

Salesman: “Is this your ride? You can’t pull a trailer with that.”

Us: “Our truck’s at home.”

The look on his face said it all. That was the moment he realized we weren’t just “kids”, we were serious buyers ready to spend $20k. And thanks to his attitude, he’d just lost the commission.

Don’t judge a book by its flower pants.

Back in the early 2000s, my wife and I were buying our first new car. We were nervous that we didn’t know what we were doing, so we did a lot of research (it helps that my wife is a librarian).

When we got to the dealer, the salesman would only talk to me. I was all buddy-buddy with the guy, too, but he completely ignored my wife. We went along with it.

The dealer was running a promotion where they would give you $X for your trade-in, no matter what condition. “If you can drive it on the lot…” kind of deal. Of course, they just don’t discount from MSRP in those cases, so it’s a gimmick.

When we walked in, the salesman asked, looking at the cars parked outside.

Salesman: “Which car is yours? Are you trading it in?”

Me: “No, we weren’t trading that car in.”

As I said, we had done our research and knew what a fair price was for the car we wanted. At the time, Edmunds had detailed dealer-level price information for many new cars, including all the various ways a dealer gets paid and what their true costs are (the “invoice price” is not their true cost).

I negotiated the price (since he wouldn’t talk to my wife) and we arrived at a number I thought was fair, actually. We got a good deal at that point. Everything was going smoothly as he wrote up our agreement, until:

Salesman: “So, since you don’t have a trade-in—”

Me: “—No, we’re trading in a car, just not the one we drove in with.” 

He literally froze for a few seconds, looking down at the form, his hand hovering over the page.

He asked the make, model, and year of our trade-in, and when I told him, he sputtered and balked. The car we were trading in was on its last legs. I’d had it all during college, and it was old before I bought it. It was definitely past its prime.

Me: “I thought you were running a promotion where the quality of the trade-in doesn’t matter. Would you have given us a higher price if you knew we had a trade-in?”

My wife said under her breath, “That’s sleazy.” He heard, as she intended him to.

He then tried to renegotiate the price. We knew from our research that if they gave us the price we had already agreed on, and they honored the trade-in deal, they would be losing money, so we were willing to move a bit, but we wanted to take our time. He was visibly nervous.

Every time he tried a new way of asking for a higher price, I would say something like:

Me: *With a sympathetic look.* “I understand what you’re saying.” 

Then, I would look at my wife, and she would look back at me and silently shake her head no. I’d then look back at the salesman and shrug. 

Me: “I don’t think that’s going to work.”

He was stuck. She was the one standing in the way of him getting out of his predicament, but he hadn’t talked to her at all. He had barely even acknowledged her presence. He just couldn’t start talking to her now when we were negotiating. 

Oh, and I even got to use the classic car salesman line:

Me: “What do I have to do for you to put me in this car today?”

We finally agreed to raise the price to an amount that, after figuring in the trade-in, was what we had thought was their break-even price. We hadn’t expected to get that low a price, and we also got them to install a nice after-market sound system. It’s the best deal we’ve ever gotten on a new car.

Honestly, we’re not the best negotiators individually, but that day we made one h*** of a team.

Today is Labor Day in the States, so institutions like banks and post offices are closed all day. I have to work, but I’m working from home.

Notably, it’s also the first of the month, so bills are coming due. Around 4 PM, I get a call on my cell phone that goes to voicemail. When I check it, I see the call is from the self-financing dealer from which I bought my car. (Only four payments left!) The voice on the message is a lady who was newly hired to chase after due payment, and has had a history of calling family members who were not co-signatories to the car loan with these reminders without calling me first, or at all, and arguing with me about which number she called.

Dealership Lady: “This is [Name] at [Dealership]. I really need you to call me back, as you are two payments behind.”

Now, this is patently untrue. Not only do I have a signed receipt from my last payment, which was actually overpaid by $40, so my last four payments would be evenly divisible with no remainder, but the current payment is due, not late, it couldn’t possibly be late, seeing as their website doesn’t allow online payment, and they were closed yesterday. But before I can gather my thoughts to call back and argue, it’s literally been about forty seconds since I got the voicemail alert, she CALLS BACK.

Also worth noting, I was already planning to take a payment on the following day anyway, assuming that the dealership was closed for Labor Day.

Me: “Hello?”

Dealership Lady: “Hello, Mr. [My Name]; this is [Name] from [Dealership].”

Me: “Yes, I saw you called. I know that my current payment is due, but I had assumed you were closed today for the holiday. I can bring it later this evening.”

Dealership Lady: “Okay, thank you.” *Hangs up.*

That’s not a summary, simplification, or exaggeration of her demeanor; that’s literally how quickly she hung up on me with so little said.

So as soon as I can sign off work for the day, I hit the ATM and drive promptly to the dealership with an hour to spare before their typical closing time… only to discover the gates are locked and the whole office has, in fact, been closed for Labor Day.

I should be done with this nonsense by November, and it can’t come soon enough.

A young woman in her twenties walks in with her dad.

Customer: “Hi, I’m here to look at getting a new vehicle. I would prefer—”

Customer’s Dad: *Interrupting her.* “—and I’m her father. I’m here to make sure she gets a good deal, you catch my drift?”

Me: “Uh, of course. What did you have in mind, ma’am?”

Customer: *Glaring at her dad.* “As I was saying, I would prefer a vehicle with greener credentials; fully electric if possible.”

Her dad scoffs at this, but he’s not the customer, so I ignore him. I take them over to our electric and hybrid wing of the dealership.

Me: “So this model here is fully electric. Not only is it one of the safest cars we sell—”

Customer’s Dad: *To his daughter.* “—You’re seriously going ahead with this? I thought it was a joke.”

Customer: “I told you I wanted electric, Dad.”

Customer’s Dad: “The president’ll ban ’em next year anyway!”

Me: “Sir… with all due respect, the government’s been incentivising them, not banning them.”

Customer’s Dad: “That’s what they want you to think!” *To his daughter.* “Hun, I don’t know anything about these woke-mobiles.”

Yes, he really did call them ‘woke-mobiles.’

Customer’s Dad: “I won’t be there to help you when it breaks down.”

Me: “Actually, all our vehicles come with breakdown covera—”

Customer’s Dad: “—You need a good, old-fashioned American car. Built tough. Built to last!”

He spies one of our shiny SUVs across the showroom. One of the last real gas guzzlers we have left.

Customer’s Dad: “Now that is a real American car!”

Me: *Unable to help myself.* “That one is assembled in Mexico.”

Customer: *Trying not to laugh.* “And the electric car?”

Me: “Built in Michigan.”

Customer: *Smirking now, staring at her dad but talking to me.* “So you’re saying the ‘real American’ choice… is the electric one?”

Customer’s Dad: “Well… I… uh… still don’t trust it.”

Customer: “Don’t stress, Dad. When gas hits $8 a gallon, I’ll swing by and tow you.”

There’s a long silence. Dad shuts his mouth, I bite back a grin, and after a few more cars, the daughter makes a decision and signs the paperwork for her brand-new electric car. She chooses a model/color we have on the lot, and she is very well prepared with the paperwork/insurance information, so she can drive it home straight away!

Customer: “Relax, Dad. I’ll still let you sit in the passenger seat and complain about it all the way home.”

CORRECTION: An incorrect speaker title has been corrected.

I used to work in car sales. One day, a customer comes in wanting a fully loaded vehicle. There’s just one problem: his credit history is a nightmare, with multiple repossessions on his record.

After running his application, we do manage to get him an offer… but for a much lower-end car than what he wanted. That’s when he notices something.

Customer: “Hold up. On my phone, my credit score says 521. Why are you saying 491?”

Me: “Sir, credit bureaus use different scoring models for different purposes. The one you see on your app isn’t necessarily the same one banks see. Also… 521 versus 491 isn’t going to make much of a difference.”

Customer: “You need to call every bank back right now and tell them my score isn’t 491, it’s 521!”

Me: “Sir, even at 521, you’d still be declined. You don’t make enough, you already have a lot of debt, and you have multiple repos on your record.”

He doesn’t like that answer and starts threatening to sue us. My manager steps in.

Manager: “Sir, he’s correct. There are different credit scores for different uses. None of that changes the fact that you’re not approved for this loan.”

Customer: “I’ll sue you! You’ll hear from my lawyer!”

Without missing a beat, my manager reaches into his pocket, pulls out a business card, and hands it to him.

Manager: “Here’s the law firm that represents us. Ask for Lisa, she’s their secretary and very nice. She’ll get a lawyer assigned to your lawsuit. Just so you know, once that happens, we can’t help you anymore. At that point, it’s between the lawyers and the judge.”

The customer takes the card and storms out.

We never heard from him, or his lawyer, again.