A car’s thoughts on negotiation.
Here comes the salesman, time to look sharp. Wiper’s all the way down? Check. Radio set to easy listening? Check. Driver’s seat in comfortable position? I hope so. Oh look at this guy. He ain’t gonna buy me. He’s just gonna test drive me and be on his way. Of course I can tell. He’s wearing a Nirvana T-shirt and brown hippie sandals. I am a BMW for crying out loud, and the thought of having brown hippie sandals touching my gas pedal well it just makes my fuel filter shiver.
Stop kicking me! How would you like it if I kicked you? No don’t agree to the test drive, no don’t, no oh dammit. The hippie is opening the door. Oh my word you smell like an ashtray! What are you doing? Don’t open my hood, that’s private! Now he’s checking my oil. Please stop fondling my dipstick.
Ouch! HEY! Try closing the hood a little more gently! Jerk. Now I suppose they’re going to drive me. Yup, I was right. The smelly hippie is going to drive me and leave. Buckle up Salesman, we’re probably going to a drug deal. You’ll sell us to anybody, won’t you? Well I’ll have you know, Mr. Salesman-of-the-month that we’ll all probably end up on the evening news. The three of us killed in a drive by shooting when the son of Moby Grape here drives us through his gang filled neighborhood. That the life of a BMW should end in such a way!
Wait a minute? Where are you going? Hey buddy, the slums are that way! Were heading to a different part of town?
Oh my God! You live here? That’s YOUR house? My, I mean your garage is huge! You even have a pool. Just think how I’ll look parked next to a pool. You know, I’ve always liked you hippie fellas. Really I have. The music, the style, the aromas, it’s all very fascinating. I was kidding about the hippie sandals you know. I am a BMW after all, we have that dry British wit. Yes Mr. Hippie-with-the-huge-house-and-garage feel free to smoke whatever you want inside of me. Now let’s get back to the shop and I’ll wait for you to fill out the forms. After that, my dream garage awaits!
Were back at the lot and I must say you park like a professional. Yes slam my doors roughly, it’s quite all right. I understand your excitement. Hey what? What’s that? What did you just tell the salesman?
You’d prefer the black Audi.
Lousy stinking hippie.