I once regarded the process of buying or leasing a car with the highest level of contempt. I hated everything about it: the hours upon hours of waiting in the most dismally commercial settings, the utter dishonesty that would reveal itself in the experience of comparing one’s research about any particular car with the sales staff’s unabashedly spouted malarkey about said car and, finally, the sales staff itself. I would, in most cases, rather spend time with convicted felons than with car salesmen. What a useless breed of wretched, revolting shitheads.
More recently, however, I reached a threshold that unshackled me from my vexation and engendered a sense of playfulness that has become so empowering that it has rendered the ultimate goal of actually procuring a car secondary to fucking with the sales staff.
I was sitting in front of man whose countenance was so gray and dry that it made me question whether or not he was an actual human being or some sort of miserable alien life form, enslaved by a cabal of corrupt alien executives to sell cars to humans on earth. The man looked like fucking death. He spoke with a thick New York accent and futilely licked his lips, which were so ludicrously parched that no amount of moisturizer could have salvaged them.
We went back and forth about the price of a Honda Fit, the details of which I will omit from this article in my infinite mercy, but suffice it to say that the man was taking me for a fool. I told him what I would pay for the car and he kept checking in with his manager, a short brute who looked like he was rejected from a Jersey Shore audition and whose East Coast accent was even thicker than that of his slave. At one point, after I assured the salesman in no uncertain terms that there was no way in hell I would pay that much for the car, he sighed, went back to his manager and returned with his manager’s phone. “This is how much it costs to get around with Uber,” the man said, pointing to a screen reflecting the manager’s most recent Uber fare. I should clarify that he did this because I made the mistake of admitting that, since a hit-and-run accident that left my car totaled, I had not yet purchased a new car.
Shocked by this pathetic gesture, my anger suddenly subsided and I smiled. “You really think that kind of shit is going to work?” I asked him. “That’s really cute.” At that moment, I adopted a new approach to dealing with car salesmen. I’m not sure if it “works” in conventional terms – that is, for the purpose of getting a good deal on a car – but I can’t stress enough how liberating and fun it is. In the interest of preserving an economy of words, I’ve opted to transition from this narrative style to a list that might be found in Cosmo.
Let’s title this list, “How to Have Your Car Salesman Squealing with Pleasure in Six Easy Steps.”
1. Be an asshole. Honestly, it’s that simple. Any attempts to be genial will bury you in a pile of cheap stratagems and the most trite car salesman rhetoric you’ve ever heard (“What can I do to get you in a car today?” – these fucking words actually discharged from the salesman’s face!). Be curt, don’t smile, cut your salesman off, be sarcastic – just tease him. This will drive your salesman crazy and will set the tone for an interaction of pure delight and pleasure.
2. Take calls on your phone while your salesman is still talking. These can be any calls – from your significant other, your friends or from a recruiter at a job agency. Answer the calls and take your time. Your car salesman will get so jealous, he won’t know what to do with himself and you will become absolutely irresistible to him.
3. Make calls on your phone while your salesman is still talking. Call that recruiter back and let him know what kind of employment opportunities you are currently seeking. Call other dealerships to discuss the car that your salesman is currently trying to sell you. Be careful with this technique because it bears the potential to be so powerful that it might literally set your salesman on fire.
4. When you are introduced to your salesman’s managers, or to any other sales team personnel, don’t shake their hands or, at the very least, leave them hanging for a while before you do to remind them who’s in charge. Nothing deflates an ego like an unsuccessful attempt at a handshake – it’s like pricking one of those inflatable breezy geezers with a pin. At this point, you should take great precautions to avoid getting smothered because your salesman will be all over you.
5. After you test drive the car and the salesman smugly asks you what you think of it, say something to the effect of, “It’s fine, it’s a car. I’m not melting into a puddle of ecstasy” and then check your phone. Make sure you get out of the car swiftly because, at this point, you will have teased the salesman so much that it will literally be impossible for him to keep his hands off you.
6. Get the salesman to work on the numbers, making him think that you might have been persuaded, and then opt out at the last possible second (make sure not to sign anything). You will need to run out of the dealership immediately after clarifying that you’re not interested and then duck and cover because you will have gotten your salesman so hot that the entire dealership will conflagrate in a supernova of lust and desire.
Follow these easy steps to have your salesman squealing with desire!