Sales Associates Secrets

copyrighted by edmunds 2005

and/or

copyrighted by the ny times 2005

because i found this gem at

www.nytimes.com

re-posted in part here with implicit permission &/or gratuitous
indulgence

hava good time, because this is nearly as goodly humorous as coffee 'n
dougnut time in consumer helle/heaven/danteville/fun/towering
inferno/vat-the-hecke-is-realite?/limbo time/capitalism 'n fun/& for my
virtuous/virtual hyundai amigos/

"Buying Tips"

"Confessions of a Car Salesman"

Part 1: Going Undercover
By Edmunds.com Editors

I had driven by the dealership a hundred times and never stopped. As I
passed I would look over at the row of salesmen standing in front of
the showroom windows, white shirts gleaming in the sun. This phalanx of
salesmen looked so predatory it always made me think, "Who would ever
stop there?"

But today, I knew I would be the one stopping there.

I turned my ancient Dodge Conquest into the dealership parking lot and
immediately felt their eyes on me. As soon as I opened my car door a
salesman was on me.

"Is that a Mitsubishi? Or a Dodge?" the salesman asked, seeking common
ground, a way to relax me before getting down to business.

"It's a Mitsubishi imported by Dodge," I said, and quickly added, "Who
do I see about applying for a job?"

His attitude changed in a heartbeat. Not only was I not going to buy a
car, but I wanted to be his competition.

"See the receptionist," he muttered, and walked away.

Inside, the receptionist was fortified behind a semi-circular counter.

"I'd like to apply for a job," I told her.

"What department?" she asked, yawning.

"Sales."

"New or used?"

"New."

She whipped out an application form and slapped it on the desk. "Fill
out both sides and complete this too." She slammed down another form.
It looked like the SAT tests I took in high school.

I took a seat in a nearby sales cubicle. It was in a large room divided
into glass-walled sales offices. In the corner was a large glassed-in
office with a high counter in front of a raised platform. The salesmen
in this room looked older, better dressed and had an air of power and
authority. They sat behind computers and also seemed to be eyeing the
salesmen out on the lot.

Looking down at the application, it blurred in front of my eyes. Could
I really do this? Could I really become a - a car salesman? Me, a law
abiding middle-aged American. A - gasp - college graduate (well,
barely). A writer. A person sometimes described as soft spoken and
reserved? Why was I applying for a job in one of the most loathed
professions in our society?

Well, here's how a strange turn of events turned me into a car
salesman.

About a month earlier I applied for a job at Edmunds.com, touting my
experience as a How-To book writer. One book I ghost-wrote was about
buying used cars, the other was about leasing cars. The books were
published under the name of a guy who had once been a car salesman. I
assumed the books qualified me to work for the fast-growing
consumer-based Web site. As I saw it, I would sit in the comfort of an
office and, from this lofty perch, dispense advice on how to buy and
sell cars.

The Edmunds.com editors had other plans.

After we finished lunch one of the editors suddenly asked, "How would
you feel about an undercover assignment?"

"What do you mean?" I asked, even though I suspected where this was
going. His question had stirred something I had thought about for a
long time.

"We would hire you here at Edmunds.com. Then you would go out and get a
job as a car salesman and work for three months."

"Selling cars?" I asked unnecessarily.

"Right."

"Where would I work?"

"Wherever you can get hired. That would be up to you. We were thinking
you should work at two dealerships. The first would be a high-volume,
high-pressure store. Then you could quit and go to a no-haggle
dealership. You could tell them you didn't like the pressure at the
first place and you'd probably get a job on the spot."

The editor explained that they wanted me to write a series of articles
describing the business from the inside. Of course I would learn the
tricks of the trade, and that would better prepare me to write advice
for Edmunds.com. But the benefits of the project would be greater than
just information. I would live the life of a car salesman for three
months. That would give me an insight and perspective that couldn't be
gained by reading books or articles or interviewing former car
salesmen.

"So what do you think?" the editor asked. "Interested?"

I have a history of acting before I think things through. I jump in
with both feet and sometimes live to regret my decision. But here I
was, in the middle of my life, long past the adventures of adolescence,
past all the lousy summer jobs, past my early newspaper days on the
police beat. It was a long time since I'd had a good adventure. But
selling cars?

"Sure, I'll do it," I said. A week later, they offered me the job.

It was several weeks before I started at Edmunds.com, and then several
more weeks before I was to begin the undercover project. Plenty of time
to wonder what the hell I'd gotten myself into. I began clipping
newspaper ads for car sales positions. Just the language in the ads
made me nervous: "Aggressive sales professionals wanted!" or "Selling
hot cars at MSRP. Join the #1 Team. Xlnt pay & benef. App in person." I
could almost sense the pressure of the car business coming through the
newspaper.

A friend of mine used to have an office surrounded by car lots. He
would eat lunch with car salesmen and listen to them brag about the
tricks they used to move cars. Occasionally, another man would join
them, a guy they called "Speedometer Shorty." He would go from one car
lot to another winding the odometers back to show fewer miles.

"What do you think they would do to me at the dealership if they found
I worked for Edmunds?" I asked my friend.

"They'd kill you," he said without hesitation. Then he began laughing.
"What they'd do is put your body in the trunk of a competitor's car."

He was yanking my chain, of course. But the fact that he answered so
quickly gave me pause. Still, I told myself nothing like that would
happen to me. I wasn't there to hurt the dealership. I wasn't there to
steal anything or to hurt their business. We weren't going for dirt.
But if dirt was there we would report it. Basically, we just wanted to
see what was happening at ground zero in the auto business.

The date finally arrived for me to leave the Edmunds.com offices and
begin looking for a job selling cars. As I prepared to leave, my editor
offered me this advice: "When you're interviewing, don't tell them you
know a lot about cars. They don't care. If they ask why you want to
work there, just tell them you want to make a lot of money."

He then flipped open his calendar and counted off the weeks. "You're
due back in the office in 10 weeks. We won't expect to see you until
then. Let us hear from you every 48 hours or so with a phone call or
e-mail. And good luck."

That weekend I went to the store and bought three new white shirts and
a pair of black shoes with soft soles. I figured I'd be on my feet a
lot. Monday morning I put together a resume. How should I present
myself? Why would someone hire me to sell cars? I thought back to what
my editor said, "Just tell them you want to make a lot of money." Good
advice. But I needed more than that. There would be questions about who
I was. Where I had worked. Requests for references maybe.

I decided that I would look over my recent past and select those things
that could be viewed as being sales related. In other words, I wanted
to avoid lying. For the previous three years I'd written video
proposals for training films. A proposal is a form of selling -
right? Maybe that would work. I called my friend and asked him to back
me up in case the dealership called him. No problem, he said. I had
also sold sporting goods at one time. And I had written proposals for
grants for another company. I was beginning to see a biography that
might work.

Monday morning rolled around and I realized that the time had arrived.
It was time to get a job as a car salesman. I drove to an auto mall
near my house. Acres of shining cars stretched out in front of me. One
dealership had a large banner reading, "We're growing! Now hiring!
Apply within."

That was when I pulled in and got the application.

"I understand you want to sell cars." The voice brought me back to the
present. I looked up from the application. A man stood there smiling at
me. He had carefully cut black hair. He wore a white shirt and a silk
tie. As he extended his hand to shake, light flashed off a gold Rolex.

"I'm Dave. When you're done filling that out have me paged and we'll
talk."

He smiled again, evaluating me. Then he disappeared.

Nice guy, I thought. Maybe this won't be so bad. I was about to begin
work on the application when I looked around. I glanced toward the
glassed-in office in the corner of the building. The one with the
raised platform and the senior sales guys watching over the car lot.
Dave was in there speaking to several of the older men in white shirts
and ties. They all turned and looked at me.

It was too late to turn back now. I bent over the application and began
writing.

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copyrighted by edmunds 2005

and/or

copyrighted by the ny times 2005

because i found this gem at

www.nytimes.com

re-posted in part here with implicit permission &/or gratuitous
indulgence

hava good time, because this is nearly as goodly humorous as coffee 'n
dougnut time in consumer helle/heaven/danteville/fun/towering
inferno/vat-the-hecke-is-realite?/limbo time/capitalism 'n fun/& for my
virtuous/virtual hyundai amigos/
---snip---snip---snp---

Couldn't find the article on the NYT web site. However, Here's a link to the
series on the Edmunds site:
http://www.edmunds.com/advice/buying/articles/42962/page001.html

 

It's a great article, even if you aren't looking to buy a car soon.