Long ago, I used to sell cars. This was thrilling to me because I was the first female car sales rep in my region. I’m a groundbreaker alright.
Friday nights were a hoot. All hands were on deck, but nobody wanted to greet any customers. Why? You might very well ask.
The sales manager, Saucy Man, would gather us in his office for the weekly “sales meeting”. There was always full attendance.
The sales meeting would begin with Saucy Man producing a 40 oz bottle of Bacardi, removing the cap, and throwing said cap in the wastebasket with the same announcement “We won’t be needing this anymore.”
It was there that I learned to play bullshit poker, but with money, rather than cards. I forget now how it’s played, except if you were called on your serial number, and didn’t have what you said you had, you lost the money. We also made crazy bets, like one guy suckered me into a bet that he could drive a stick shift without ever stalling and without ever using the clutch. I figured he had forgotten about stopping, so took him up on it. He switched off the ignition upon stopping, thus preventing a stall.
It was there that I first learned the word “dirtbag”, a word I promptly used on the winner of aforementioned bet.
We ate lunch at the tavern, every day.
I saw some sleazy things go on in the dealership, and it wasn’t until much later that I figured it out. By “it” I mean, how did they live with themselves?
I myself, was insulted if someone distrusted me and assumed I was lying. It drove me crazy.
Most of them did lie and misrepresent the used cars. I was also indignant when they stole my deals out from under me.
Guess liquor is great for pushing that pesky conscience aside.
Torch Says:
