F ³: The Thrill of Winning - - a Woman and a Car

My daughter, an attractive professional woman in her thirties, bought a car yesterday. A used car, but a very nice one.

We almost didn’t get to hear her tell about it because it seems that the financing guy was determined to hold her hostage. 

She would not budge. 

Recalling her experience, she remarked that the sales associate was wonderful and that she was completely satisfied with that part of the deal. As to the money part?

“I don’t think it was personal,” she said. “ I think he did to me what he does to every attractive woman who walks in there.”

The pride I felt - - not just for my daughter but for every woman who has been jerked around in a car dealership - - was immense. It was exhilarating.

They tried to saddle her with an enormous monthly car payment which was nothing like the figure that had been floated over the phone. 

She got out the piece of paper where she had written it. She also got out her calculator and went through all the numbers, step by step. She showed him where his math was wrong.

“Who pays a monthly payment like that?” She asked him. “No, seriously, tell me. Describe them to me. Who are they - - rich people?”

Pause.

“Because, for you to give me that number after telling me something else on the phone…well, that’s stupid.”

I was raised to be polite, not to make waves, negotiate in good faith, and hope I would be treated the same way. As a woman, this is fatal advice when buying a car. 

My daughter did not raise her voice, she didn’t berate anyone, she didn’t cry. What she was: determined, blunt, prepared.

He caved. She got her number. 

*****

Now I’m going to be blunt and possibly a little bit nasty: 

Dear Mr. Financing,

My daughter has run entire whole-ass restaurants. She can run dinner service, plan events, train and supervise staff, do payroll, project earnings, go through all the numbers and ferret out whatever needs to be known. She can deal with inebriated customers, unhappy chefs, unpleasable corporate execs.

Why don’t you do the world a favor and assume that every woman who walks in your door is my daughter and put on your A game?

In closing, I cannot neglect to share my daughter’s parting shot as she left the dealership. 

“I get it. I have run a business where my job was to get people to part with their money. So I know what you are doing, and I have to respect that.”

“But - - I’m just

not

interested.”

Yes, friends - - she writes her own material. And she doesn’t need me to brag about her, either.

But just in case you’ve ever had this kind of experience as a woman…I thought you might enjoy this as much as I did.

Village Green/Town² Comments.