Wednesday, January 1, 2014


                             BIG GIRLS DON’T BUY

     Purchasing or leasing a new car is always a challenge. A woman can walk into a dealership smiling, feeling cheerful and optimistic about the human race and walk out a cynical bitch. How can this happen after spending less than an hour with a seemingly kind, neatly-groomed gentleman with a picture of his wife and kids at Disney World on the desk?

     It’s all part of the “she-doesn’t-know-squat-and-I-need-to-reach-quota” syndrome.
When he starts by asking me what color I want before he even determines make, model  or horsepower, I know it’s going to be a long day. When he says to me, winking at my husband, “Will the car be in the little lady’s name?” I want to poke his eye out with his ear pencil.

     It’s all a game at these places. You have to rehearse your schtick before you get to the showroom because they see you coming, and they’re all ready with a deal you can’t turn down, complete with CarFax calendar and Otis Spunkmeyer blueberry muffin. I dare them to send me a survey.

     Are you kidding me? You expect me to buy a car worth $10,000 less than the one I’m driving and pay $50 more a month with a $5000 down payment? And then, the guy is so clueless, he tells me that some customer traded in a car just like mine because it wouldn’t start. Let me get this straight, you insult my present vehicle, ask me to pay more for your product when you can’t even deal, and you expect me to effen listen to anything you have to say? I wouldn’t listen to you if you offered me a free ticket to the Chippendales. 

     I leave the showroom totally frustrated threatening to buy a moped and drive 25 mph like the other convicted felons who can’t drive real vehicles. I think I’m done, but guess what?

    Twenty-three hours later, the phone calls begin. “Ms. (mispronounces name)? I was just checking to see whether you have any questions regarding the _______you looked at in our showroom.” Do I have questions? You bet your bumper I do. I want to know why you salesmen don’t take a class in “How Savvy Women Shop With Their Very Own Money.”
I want to know why your sales strategy changes with whatever scenario I throw out to you--totally contradicting what you said in the previous one. I want to know why you winked at my husband. I want to know why you think I care how much you paid for your wife’s new luxury vehicle with your 96% top salesman discount. Other than that, nope, no questions.

News Flash:  Just picked up my red polka-dot Harley and matching Chaps. Rockin’ on. Checkin’ on price of boob job.

(I said, BOOB job, not lip enhancement. hello)