The Three Things That Piss Me Off

As a car salesman there are three things that piss me off. First, it’s two managers talking to me at the same time. When I take a deal to the desk I want one competent man telling me what to do. A second manager, listening in on the first manager’s advice, will invariably tell you something different from the first manager. Whenever I am confronted with this situation I usually say something like, “I’m going to go get a drink of water. While I’m gone you two think of a game plan, and when I get back I want one of you to tell me what it is.”

The second thing that pisses me off is a customer that won’t go on the prescribed demo ride. You go out the driveway and you tell the guy to turn right and he turns left, generally a recipe for disaster. If the goof won’t go on your demo route, that usually means he is not someone easily controllable which means he’s probably going to be nothing but problems later on. It’s a good thing I’m not usually armed when I go on a test drive because there would be blood on the windshield!

The third thing that pisses me off is a guy wearing a L.A. Dodgers baseball hat. As a life long San Francisco Giant fan I can’t stand being in the presence of a Dodger fan. This situation presented itself just the other day. Generally I almost always have my Giants cap on, but on this day it was sitting on the desk when I went out to wait on this fat fuck. It wasn’t until it was too late that I spotted the hated Dodger blue sitting on his head like a dead squirrel.

For those of you who may not know, the Giants and Dodgers have been rivals for about a hundred years. It goes back to the days when the Giants were in New York and the Dodgers were in Brooklyn. When they moved to the West Coast in 1958 the rivalry continued. I was eight when the giants landed in San Francisco, and my hatred for the Dodgers was soon embedded in me like a malignant tumor.

I turned back to my boss. It was really his up, but he was heading out for lunch with his wife. I held up my hands and stopped his car. “Are you really going to make me wait on this guy? I asked.

“Yes,” he replied with a grin on his face.

“I can’t be responsible for the results,” I said.

First thing I did was retreat to my office where I grabbed my Giants hat like it was an AK47. I approached the guy cautiously. Dodger fans are sneaky little bastards; you never know what they will do when cornered. I decided to be diplomatic. “Hi,” I said. My eyes were glued to the white L.A. on blue. I just couldn’t help myself. He spotted my hat. We faced each other like gunslingers starring each other down on a dusty western street.

The first thing out of this asshole’s mouth was something negative. “I’m looking for a used Honda,” he said.

“Hey, buddy, let’s keep the conversation on cars not baseball,” I said. “You don’t like me and I sure as hell don’t like you so let’s keep it on a professional level.”

“All I said was that I wanted a use Honda,” he said idiotically.

“That’s it! Get your Dodger cap wearing ass off my lot!”

If you can believe it he looked at me like I was nuts. I mean he started it! I tried to treat him like a… a…

You know, maybe I shouldn’t have brought this up.


Talk to you later,


David