Mothers Don't Let Your Children Grow-Up To Be .... Car Dealership Magicians

Shopping for a car, particularly a used one, is a stressful experience.  Even before you get to the dealership, you're already on edge with a head full of estimated payments, Blue Book values and interest rates and your best "Don't F With Me" edge.  No matter how much they profess their honesty, you build a wall, dig a moat, or whatever, designed to protect you from the attacks of the car salesman masquerading as a scam artist that ultimately leads to the following conversation during the test drive:

Salesman:  So, do you have a long commute?

You:  Fuck you.

Salesman:  You can make a left right here.

Dealerships know this, so they try all kinds of tricks to try to know you off your game.  All the dealerships are all shiny and new.  Everybody has a nickname - "Oh, that's Fitz and this is Jimbo and they call me Slappy."  They'll even offer you coffee or a snack.  Anything to make you feel a little just a bit better about the fact that your about to absolutely waste a bunch of your hard earned money on something that guarantees only three things: (1) it will fall apart someday; (2) that day will come at the worst possible time; and (3) you'll be lucky if, when the inevitable happens, the title is in somebody else's name. 

A few weeks ago at a local dealership, we found out just how far they'll go.  After the obligatory test, we'd moved to the break in the action where the salesman leaves to see if the "manager" can lower the monthly payment but just comes back with the new numbers that have you double your down payment instead of lowering the price and make it seem like they're giving you a great deal.   (So, you're telling me if I give you more money now, it will cost me less per month?  Well, thanks for the info Slappy!!)  So, during this lull in the action, a guy wandered over holding a wallet and asked if either us or The Mrs had lost ours.  Despite the fact that it looked nothing like any wallet we'd ever owned, we instinctively checked our pockets, told him we were indeed still in possession of our own useless wallet and gave him our best and most polite blow-off. 

He lingered, however.   Maybe he was waiting for us to say something.  Or maybe he was just working up the courage to do what came next.  After about 10 seconds, with a bravery we doubt we could ever muster, he informed us that it was unfortunate that the wallet in question wasn't ours because it "had money to burn" as he opened the wallet to reveal a flame.  Oh.  No.  Despite the flame before our eyes, we were absolutely engulfed in douche chills.  And confusion.  Why was there a man, in a car dealership, holding a flaming wallet?  His presence was completely out of context there.  Hell, it would have been completely out of context anywhere.

He looked like any other car salesman you might meet except he seemed to possess an additional layer of desperation and sadness.  Even more than someone who's primary responsibility is to rip people off.  As we continued to assess his presence, we noticed the weird rings and purple silk shirt he was wearing with his black suit and along with the flaming wallet and the emerging deck of cards, we began to conclude that he must be some sort of magician (or the Count Chocula).  Unfortunately, that realization only confused us more.  Was he some sort of traveling, freelance magic man?  Did he work at the dealership?  Was he homeless?  Do we give him a dollar?  Could be levitate? 

As these questions swirled, he informed us that he was indeed employed by the dealership and his role was to help make people comfortable the car buying experience.  We didn't have the heart to tell him he was doing the exact opposite.  Again, we tried to express our most polite disinterest but he simply soldiered on in his mission to give us a weird story to tell people.  The deck of cards emerged fully and he began the standard "Pick a Card Routine" (you know the one that nobody knows or cares how it's done) but with the added twist of having written a bunch of random words on the card backs that coincided with the lies about the people that were trying to screw us.  At this point, the 25 foot ceilings of the room could barely contain the awkwardness. But, he wasn't done.  Not by a long shot. 
Next was the hide the ball game.  Three cups.  One ball.  Zero interest.  We'll spare you the details in full only to say: (1) that game is much more fun on  the big screen at Yankee Stadium; (2) it's really unnecessary to use slight of hand when people aren't paying any attention; and (3) it ended with a lemon.  Mercifully that was the last of the "tricks."  But the show wasn't over.  It was our turn as we put forth the illusion that it was so interesting and and totally unique and wondered aloud why other dealerships didn't do the same thing  (we were informed that the had been submitted to "magic publications" in an attempt to spread the practice.)  And, with that, one of the most surreal experiences of our life was over.  We still haven't quite recovered.

So, we pass this story along not to ridicule the man in question but as a cautionary tale.  It's not his fault but that of his parents who didn't show the proper amount of disdain the first time he picked up a shitty cardboard wand and started yelling "abracadabra."  He probably thought he'd be the next David Blaine staying up for like 17 straight hours or doing 10 push-ups in Times Square.  Instead, he's carrying around a worn out top hat and a mangy rabbit.  So, please if your child asks for a subscription to "Poof" or starts planning to make the family yacht disappear.  Do the right thing.  Berate him.  Tell him magicians suck.  Whatever you need to do, just don't let your children grow up to be car dealership magicians.