Response to e-mail:
>Did you get to Love Chev. to check out the G. Marquis?
Did so just last night about 7:15. Saw it as I was getting gas across the street at Race Track, so decided to give it a quick look. Nice car, but my experience there was deplorable: When I drove up and parked my car, I saw some guy talking on the phone on the ramp leading to the side showroom door. He saw me get out of my car and walk over to the Grand. M. Shockingly enough, the key was still in the car (I figured someone forgot to take it out, but I was later informed by the salesman that all keys are left in the cars until closing time). I started the engine, (initial start sounded like the tappers or something needed a tune-up, but the engine, after running a few minutes didn’t sound bad) checked the A/C, power windows, etc. Didn’t like the interior color too much or those damnable leather seats that burn your bootie during the summer, freeze it during winter, and make you slip and slide all over the place while driving, but for a Grand M., those options are probably standard. After all this, I’m still left alone and I saw that this guy is still standing on the walkway talking on the phone. I saw no one else, so I figured he was the night watchman, didn’t know anything about the cars and was also not interested in selling me one. I was wrong. I took the key out of the ignition and walked all the way over to this guy (my neuropathy in the feet were already killing me) who was still on the phone. Although the showroom was lit, I saw no one else. I handed him the key, and it was then, after he said good-bye to his g’mom or mother on the phone (I heard it as he terminated the call as he saw me approaching him) – that he told me all keys are left in all cars, which surprised me since I figured the place was already closed. I asked this guy (whom I later found out to be a salesman, after having to ask him for his business card – a Jack King individual) if he knew the price on the car. He didn’t, but said it was on the windshield. I said, “No, it isn’t. I checked everything.” Now, with the aching neuropathy in my diabetic feet, we have to walk all the way over to the car again so he can show me, which he did. It’s a secret code that Hammurabi himself would have trouble interpreting. The first number plus the last number gives the year or something, then the middle numbers give the price or something – good grief. I asked Mr. King bluntly, “How am I, the potential customer, supposed to know that?” He informed me, “You’re not. You’re supposed to come and ask one of the salesmen." (Simply another duping tactic against potential customers.)
Then he went into this ridiculous spiel about “great costs” and “going bankrupt” if the dealership puts prices on the warranty papers. I had to correct him. “I’m not talking about warranty papers, but rather taking a simple piece of white/yellow window chalk, as most dealerships use, and “write it on the window which can easily be erased and changed later on, if necessary.” Hiding the prices, evidently, is what Love C. loves to do. (Is that why they name it, “Love Chevrolet”?) I was talking to a brick wall, it seemed. The 6-7 digit code was going to remain on all cars so new potential customers have to ask the price – another duping tactic by a big G.M. dealership, created by financial-freak gurus with their superfluous degrees in Business Admin. (Delightful. Then they wonder why the general citizenry distrust them so much?)
Then I’m informed, after having to ask again, that the “Administration fee” is a whopping $500 – another kick-in-the-gut-appreciation gift to the customer by a big dealership to siphon more bucks from the customer’s wallet.
By now, it’s about 7:30, and I could see that this Jack King was not one bit interested in selling me anything. He never asked my name, if I had a trade-in – you know, all those “feeling out the customer” questions they usually love to ask – nothing. It became quite evident he had one thing on his mind – dismissal time at 8 p.m
Janet was still in the car waiting, my feet again were aching too much, and I was running out of useless spittle talking to this King guy. I told him (after having to ask him if/when he was going to be here tomorrow – he offered again no info on anything nor showed any interest or enthusiasm in selling the car) that I might come back tomorrow to test-drive the vehicle. I got into my car to go home and mumbled to Janet, “That guy’s got a problem. If he’s that unhappy, uninterested and unenthusiastic on his job, he needs to look for some other employment.”
The aura/bad taste-experience I had is certainly not going to witness me visiting Love C. again for anything. Maybe Mr. King and his supervisory personnel might need to intensify their training regarding the eon-old business maxim, “It’s not the business you’re doing, but the business you could be doing.”
The good side of this whole episode is I can use it as a topic of conversation at our next club meeting.
Stay in touch,
B
