For Those Who Are A Little Confused

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The situation which has exploded into the massive drama, is not The Pen incident. I wasn't too clear on what it was. Basically, someone stole my customer and made a fortune off of him. And management is/was defending him. The Gods That Be (Big Brother and Big Sister) are not letting me back down and basically making the life of the management who let it slide, a living hell.

I would like to say the two events are completely unrelated, but they aren't. This has already happened once, where someone tried to take my customer. It all boils down to them being chauvanist male pigs who think they are going to screw me over because I am new and inexperienced. What they didn't realize, up to this point, is that I have much bigger, meaner and scarier people standing behind me. People who want to make sure stuff like this doesn't happen anymore.

Interestingly enough, the manager who made the pen comment, went to the other guys I work with and told them I was threatening the dealership with a lawsuit because of their comments. Needless to say, the guys were upset and a little baffled. I clarified that for them pretty quickly.

For those of you who might think I am being a deal hog, I assure you, I am not. Today I split a deal that was completely unnecessary to split, simply because another sales guy had spoken to them at one point. I personally want to make a statement that it CAN be done, and it CAN be done the right way. I also told a sales guy he could have customers that were personal childhood friends of mine, since they contacted him first. While I may be known as The Bitch, at least I will be known as The Bitch Who Can Sell Cars And Is Fair To Everyone Else.

Word on the street has it that I am trouble. Your right. I am trouble. I am trouble for all the slimy managers, skeezy co-workers and the people who don't want to sell cars. And frankly, I really couldn't care less. I am working hard, selling cars and I haven't done anything right. So. BITE ME!

In the past weeks I have grown incredibly. I am learning how to roll with the punches and not be flustered. For instance:

Today I went to show a car to a customer and it's battery was dead. Hm. Ok. Terribly professional. I charge the car and the car it out of gas. Ok. We go to the gas station to get gas and the customer forgot what I HAD JUST TOLD HIM and cut the engine off. Of course, the car will not restart.


I calmly finish filling the car and walk into the gas station. The little lady at the counter remembers me quite clearly from my first day of trauma. I tell her that I have a dead battery, does she have a battery pack? No. She doesn't. But she will be more than happy to let me use her phone. (This time I actually know the number to the dealership.)

Just then, the customer walks in, apoligizing yet again for cutting the engine off. I wave off his worries and accept the offer to use his cell phone. I call, get thorougly chastised by the receptionist (who happens to weigh three hundred pounds and resents the fact I am taking away some of the male attention from her) and she reluctantly promises to send someone down. (THE WHOLE MILE AND A HALF!)

While we wait, I notice that the hem has come out of my pants, I have lost a earring, the lining of my pants has mysteriously split and is now wedged up my ass AND my shirt is sticking to my back it is SO FRICKIN' HOT OUTSIDE. Rather than get flustered, as I would have, I laughed with the customer as I relayed the story of my first day of work. And since we were at THE SAME GAS STATION I was able to point out handy little landmarks that added to the story quite nicely.

Finially, help arrived. (I was told the only reason he came and rescued me was because he knew that he would recieve cookies.) After we finished charging the battery (again!) I told the customer to PLEASE take it out for as long as he could. He would be doing me a favor since the car would have to sit in the lot and run to charge the battery anyway.

You know what? He is coming back to buy the car Monday despite the fact the battery was dead TWICE, he had a salesperson whose pants hem fell out, had one earring, bad hair AND a sticky shirt. And he loved me. And he thinks the world of me. And HE IS GOING TO BUY THE CAR, DAMMIT!

You know what?! I don't care that everyone hates me. I don't care that everyone talks about me behind my back. I don't care that my managers speak down to me. Why? The same thing I say to everyone who askes me why I split the deal, or why I am doing nice things for them, or why I would go out of my way to let them have a customer, or why I would bake them cookies.

Because, that's just how I rock and roll.

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This odd narrative is my life. I ended up in Pittsburgh, of all places--from the beach. I have no hobbies, other than cooking excessively and eating microwave popcorn. I enjoy shopping, the Food network, hiding the remote so the Food network cannot be turned off, find ethnic food stores and restaurants and reading voraciously. My life is decidedly pedestrian.

I worked in the car business where I was required to be ruthless and soul-less wench, which is when I started this project. Since then, I've kept it up because secretly, I've always wanted to join the military. Every male in my mother's family has joined and I quietly entertain thoughts of joining. I haven't yet and don't know if I ever will, but sending the troops cookies keeps me sane. it makes me think I still have a shred of human kindness left in my withering soul. it's a small way for me to salute the men and women who are brave enough to fight for freedom. And makes me feel like I'm contributing toward troop morale--even if I'm not. So if you want to help, send me addresses of troops you know stationed overseas. you may also contribute toward the cost of chocolate chips, but don't feel obligated, that link is here only by request.

the past


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