Slick was waving terms in front of my face like ‘secret’ rebates and ‘hidden’ incentives. He could’ve said he’d throw in a secret steaming cow pie and I would’ve been excited just because it was a secret. He then proceeds to throw in free rentals until my specific SUV got there in 4 days. One thing you never do to a woman is dangle a free rental in her face. The high of cruising in someone else’s vehicle and wiping your fry grease hands on the seat without remorse is better than getting that surprise 7th Mcnugget in your happy meal of 6. He knew me already and I didn’t like it. At this point, I had to see what this jokester was about.
On the way there my financial advisor/babysitter informed me that I was on my own and he was simply there to enjoy the show. Said FA and babysitter doubles as my father so you can imagine my shock when he pushed me out of the proverbial nest going 70 on the highway without my driving glasses. He didn’t like my suggestion of me figuring out all of the cool shit on the suv, telling him my bottom line and walking off for a complimentary hot dog while he sealed the deal. So the rest of the car ride consisted of role playing scenarios in which my answer was never allowed to contain the ‘F’ word nor was there to be any giggling or referring to vehicles as Hot Wheels. Putting my acting skills to this level of testing was giving me the nervous poops and quickly made me regret that second sloppy joe before leaving the house.
Long story short, Slick (who my dad quickly started referring to as ‘that jackoff’) lied about having the SUV there for me to test drive and basically just wanted me to come in, hang out, enjoy a free dog and buy a vehicle I hadn’t test driven OR seen. He was a dead ringer for Scott Caan minus the acting skills and success delivering a good one-liner. Homes couldn’t keep a straight look on his face without looking constipated to save his life. I know I have ZERO poker face, as eye contact freaks me out and I kept picturing this douche wearing a Thor hat, but I can at least do a good job of ‘smelling the fart acting.' I even practiced that look of staring off into space with a quizzical look on my face as if I got a whiff of an air biscuit fresh from the oven, before leave the house. ‘That jackoff’ had my address…he knew I was from NoCo, so to expect I would want a vehicle that was anything but black on black with tint and rims I could see my face in, was just poor data collecting on his part.
Saturday will mark attempt number 3. I hope they have hot dogs AND nachos. Dad and I will need something other than playing catch in the sales douche’s office to keep us occupied while they conduct the ever-so-obvious routine of ‘let me go ask my boss.’
This country…it’s growing on me