What do YOU have in mind? Part 2

(This is the second part of an allegory that may prove useful to new home sales professionals and those who rely on them. Next installment on Friday 2/15.)

"WHAT DO YOU HAVE IN MIND?"

Dealership #2

Just down from Thunder Motors, I went into a dealership where the sign in front claimed that they could finance anybody. I wasn’t concerned about financing, but they also had a row of nice looking SUV’s that seemed to have room for the dogs. Many of them had trailer hitches, so, now as an astute shopper, I concluded that there were towing packages available.

I walked into the dealership and was greeted by a gentleman wearing a name tag. Bill introduced himself, asked my name and promptly forgot it. He called me Don a couple of times. He asked if this was my first visit to this dealership.

Anyway, he told me that the cars he had were some of the best financing deals this side of Rialto and that he should know. In the last four years, he had worked at eleven car dealerships. It might have been twelve except for that technicality of that domestic abuse thing. His anger management classes were scheduled in such a way as to make sure that a working guy couldn’t get a break any more, so he had been unemployed for two months. But, he said, it was just as well, because it was at a time when his daughter from a previous marriage had “come back home” since her no-good boyfriend had been sentenced to six years at Soledad and that he had left her and the kids without even the window to throw it out of. So, while he was between jobs, he converted the recreation room into a mini-suite with a separate entrance so they wouldn’t be as disruptive to his “socializing with the ladies, now that the wife had left him and all.” Bill mentioned he was pretty handy at renovations and such.

At a pause in this expose, I told Bill that I wanted a vehicle for my dogs, one that could tow a twenty-two foot trailer. Bill said that for a twenty-two footer, I would probably need a transmission cooler and that he couldn’t get one installed here at the dealership, but he’d refer me to his ex-brother-in-law who did “side jobs for cash.”

Bill then asked me if I had been prequalified to buy a vehicle, and what sort of “down-stroke” I had. I wasn’t really sure what he meant, so he introduced me (as “Don”) to Gavin, his lender. Gavin repeated that they had access to all the best car loan programs and that his job was to fit me into the program that exceeded (my) expectations. I didn’t know what that meant either. He asked me to fill in some paperwork, but not to worry. He could tell if someone was a deadbeat and that he wouldn’t run my credit if I wasn’t going to be able to buy.

I didn’t fill in every line, of course, but, when I was done, Gavin took a quick look, did a few things on the computer, and beamed. “You are good to go, Don!”

My paperwork said I was Dave.

He said I could tell Bill that I “was pre-qualified to the max.”

I left him at his desk, but never could find Bill again.

As I make these notes, I realize that I never got a card, the name of the dealership, or even the brand of vehicles they sell. I didn’t know their prices, if the dog carriers would fit or if the trucks had enough power to tow the trailer up to the mountain place.

But, I do remember that Gavin claimed I was “pre-qualified to the max.” I was happy that he didn’t think I was a deadbeat.

And, I know more about Bill than I care to, and I also know he wasn’t pushy, either.