The Three Rules

Over the years I have pondered the rules that govern the automobile business. Of course, each dealership has its own set, but it seemed to me that there must be some universal truths that are common to Car Men everywhere; sort of like the Ten Commandments with white walls.

There are a myriad of conventions that control our activities, but I have managed to whittle them down to three basic rules. The Three Commandments, if you will. Understand the three rules, and you will better understand the business, and your life will be a hell of a lot easier. So here they are, the Big Three, in ascending order:

THERE IS AN ASS FOR EVERY SEAT.

The third rule is a simple one: for every car on your lot there is an ass somewhere that will eventually fill its cracked leather seats. Some cars go away quickly, driven over the curb by a happy ass to live out a happy automotive life. Other cars are problem children. They can sit, sit, and sit, an ass seemingly nowhere in sight. But Car Men are harkened by the fact that an ass will always eventually appear. This means that the ’02 Ford Taurus gathering dust on your back line has some buns waiting for it somewhere. All you have to do is to be patient. The anointed ass will come.

Many dealerships will hang on to a car no matter how long it takes to find an ass for its seat. Others go into a panic about their aged inventory, especially the used cars. Thirty days after the sled hits the line they start to get concerned. At sixty days it has a nice spiff on it, and at ninety days the offending vehicle is going down the lane at the auto auction. However, this does not break the rule. The seat may not have found an ass on your lot, but it will on someone else’s.

WHAT GOES AROUND COMES AROUND

The sucker skated you. It was your afternoon off and like a fool you took it. He got your customer, sold him a car, and your name is nowhere on the deal. “He didn’t ask for you,” the perpetrator claims with all the smart-ass sincerity he can muster.

Right.

What the hell do you do? After considering murder or planting dope in his desk you make the decision: “I won’t get mad. I’ll get even!”

Get even, that is what you will do! What goes around comes around. Better yet get him twice! That is what h e gets for for messing with you! And it will not be on some low-commission new car. No, sir. It will be on a used a car with a big fat gross!

What goes around comes around also applies to a Car Man’s relationship with customers. In our eyes The Others are the biggest liars going. As the saying goes, “How can you tell if a customer is lying to you? Watch his lips. If they’re moving, he’s lying!”

As a budding Car Man I was taken advantage of by a lot of customers who preyed on my youth and unguarded enthusiasm. Back in 1971 (and I swear this is true) I had a customer by the name of Barry Tideman. He worked for a company called Moore Business Forms. Mr. Tideman stroked me unmercifully about a new Ford Torino. He took full advantage of my green pea status; milking me for as much information he could only to buy the car someplace else without even giving me a chance. I have never forgotten this offence, and I pray that someday I will run into him or his progeny to extract my revenge.

Sometimes what goes around comes around can affect you monetarily. Many years ago I was involved in the sale of two cars to a man who turned out to be a pimp. (He purchased the cars for couple of his “ladies”.) Because there was fraud involved, the cars were repossessed, and his large down payment was not returned, yet they still charged back my $500 in commissions. Needless to say I was pissed! But keeping “what goes around comes around” in mind, I kept my cool and waited.

Two months later it happened. I got my month-end commission check and noticed it was too high--about $500 too high. They had made a mistake and paid me twice on a deal. Did I say anything? No freaking way! The Car God had spoken. The universe had righted itself.

So if something bad happens to you, if that pipe-smoker has wasted your time and made your life miserable, take heart. The Car God sees all, and he deals with it--eventually. As for my friend Barry Tideman, your time is coming, my friend, and you will be mine!

Oh, yes, you will me mine.

THE CAR BUSINESS IS NOT FAIR

There is not too much I need to say about this rule. It speaks for itself. It is the Big Kahuna. Numero Uno. It is the one that controls our business as surely as the sun controls the solar system. The car business is not fair. It never was, and it never will be. If you want fairness go get a job at the post office.

Over the years I have learned that if you can accept the lack of fairness in our beloved industry you will be a happier Car Man, but many times that is not an easy thing to do. You are working with a bunch of snakes and quite a few of them are members of management. There are all kinds of ways they can mess with your head. The rule is toughest on the guys who come to the business later in life from jobs that had, let us say, more ethics. When you are selling iron for a living, there is no union to go to and file a grievance.

“Hey, I got screwed!” he says, looking at his lowered “adjusted” commission voucher. That is right buddy. You got screwed! Oh, well. The car business is not fair.

So if you are a Car Man keep this and the other rules in mind. There is an ass for every seat. The car business is not fair, but what goes around comes around. Remember this and you will be reasonably happy and stay somewhat sane.

Now that I think about it there is a forth rule. It is a minor one, but it is a rule just the same:

IF YOU’RE TALKING TO AN INDIAN ABOUT A CAR, THE CAR IS NOT FOR HIM.

For some reason people from India do not like you knowing whom the car is for. They will, for reasons known only to them, try to hide it from you. I once sold a used truck to a group of Indian gentlemen. One guy did the talking, a second took the truck for a test drive, a third filled out the credit application, a fourth gave me the down payment, and a fifth guy drove the truck off the lot. I asked they guy doing the talking who the truck was for. He looked at me and said, “Guess.”

Talk to you later,


David