Car Purchase Games
“But don’t you love the colour?” This used to be a common inquiry directed my way by male salespeople when my husband and I went car shopping. They deferred to my husband, Rob, for all the decision making and they ignored me unless the topic was the all important colour. Even if I asked a question, they turned to Rob when they answered. One time, he started walking away on purpose when I asked a question, just to see if the salesperson would direct their answer to me. They didn’t. They just looked confused and answered the air. One salesperson even had the audacity to look offended when I said, “I don’t care what colour the car is, as long as the number lines up with the budget we gave you three weeks ago.” I came to dread the whole process.
My husband was happy to leave the major financial decisions to me but we settled on must-haves and nice-to-haves in advance and arrived at a budget we planned to work within. We became accustomed to the vehicle purchase game where negotiations were lengthy, painful, and always left me feeling like I needed to shower. This went on for many car purchases until I’d had enough and advised Rob that it would be best for me to stay away from the dealership until it was time to sign. I was a polite and conflict-averse person, but condescension infuriated me and rendered me unable to voice my displeasure in a controlled manner. This character flaw threatened to embarrass me and my husband, so I stopped accompanying him to the dealerships. “I can’t guarantee what I’ll say if they talk to me like I’m an idiot,” was my rationale. We lived in a small town where everyone seemed connected and I risked insulting the brother-in-law of a cousin’s best friend’s sister who might some day be my boss. My peace-loving husband was happy to go without me.
My only concern with this approach was that he’d be too nice without me there. We discussed the importance of leverage and I suggested he not disclose how much we disliked our current vehicle or how close we were to the mileage limit on our lease. I also reminded him he wasn’t there to become the best friend of the salesperson. Rob worked as a part-time bartender at our local arena where he served many beverages to many return customers. He liked people and was happy when people liked him back.
In preparation for our next vehicle purchase, we revised our approach and planned a well thought-out strategy. Rob would do the preliminary shopping, narrow down the choices, and report back on his findings. He’d pick me up at home or work so we could test drive the final candidates together but I would otherwise remain the faceless other half.
The search for our next vehicle began. My absence during his numerous initial visits to one particular dealership created an unintended but useful result, especially after my husband emphasized my role in the financial decision-making. When the salesperson encouraged him to bring me along, probably to point out the car’s colour, he told him I had a busy schedule and my days were filled with meetings. While this was true, my absence created a kind of mystique and apprehension about the elusive wife, who they knew was needed to close the deal. We decided to use this to our advantage.
After the fourth wifeless visit, the young and enthusiastic salesperson, insisted on getting me on the phone to close the deal even though we weren’t anywhere close to this point in the negotiation. He was getting frustrated with the very busy, lots of meetings excuse. Rob stalled by promising to return the following day but made no commitments on my attendance. That night, my husband, an honest and genuine man, suggested I ignore his texts and calls the next morning while he was meeting with the salesperson. Our goal was to prolong the aura of mystery and show the salesperson he didn’t have the power to summon me or rush us into a purchase. It felt a bit disingenuous and I had a sliver of pity for the guy, however the sting of all the condescending salespeople who came before him reminded me it was payback time. I hoped the universe would forgive me.
The next morning, Rob messaged me at work when he left for the dealership and reminded me to disregard his texts and phone calls for the next hour. A long-time colleague happened to be in my office when the first text came and was still there when my office phone rang, the call-display showing it was my husband. He started to leave and said, “Go ahead and answer your phone. I can come back later.” I told him to stay and confessed to the ruse. His amusement turned into disbelief. “You’ve broken him. You turned Rob into a liar. How could you?” It seemed he held my husband in higher regard than he held me. I reminded him we concocted this approach together and it was Rob who suggested I ignore his calls and texts. Also, despite our little games, the salesperson and his people would still come out ahead.
We employed this tactic for a few more days before we decided to purchase the vehicle and I went along to meet the somewhat jumpy salesperson. Rob had been relaying our wish list as if it was coming from me and he’d done well. In addition to a promotional offer that scored us free snow tires and a gas card, we ended up with a number of other freebies. Emboldened by our success and heartened by the absence of the car colour question, I told the salesperson he needed to throw in mud flaps to close the deal. He put his head in his hands and whined, “You’re killing me now!”
We purchased the car, complete with free mud flaps. I guess the universe was on my side, after all.
