Crystal Jackson

Archive for the ‘shopping’ Category

stink eye

In awkward, people be trippin', shopping on January 15, 2012 at 12:44 pm

I always get my weekly grocery shopping out of the way on Sunday morning, no matter how late my Saturday night might have been. If you don’t go early on Sunday, you end up knee-deep in the throngs of slow shoppers. They chat in front of the produce scales instead of weighing their shit and moving on. They leave their cart in the middle of the aisle to look at something shiny that caught their eye. They stand three across discussing the merits of this salad dressing versus that. It’s maddening for a person who walks fast and writes her grocery list in the order the items appear in the store in order to eliminate unnecessary browsing. Sounds fun, huh? That’s why I go alone.

Because it’s early and I pretty much literally roll out of bed, put on clothes and head to the store, I don’t make much eye contact while I’m shopping. Not looking to get into a conversation with the chipper lady who’s been up since 6 or the crusty old man who can’t find the chutney.

I was nearing the end of my weekly chore this morning when I broke my rule. I was on the main aisle and needed to turn left to get some detergent. There was a guy coming my direction whom I needed to let pass before I could move forward. I glanced up, and he was looking me dead in the eye. Giving me the stink eye. He looked at me like I’d just puked on his grocery basket or called his mama a whore. I’m looking at him, probably with surprise on my face, and he’s staring at me as he continues pushing his shopping cart, having to turn his head as he goes by in order to maintain angry eye contact. This went on for a few seconds, which is fairly intense for this type of interaction.

It was so weird, I sort of wanted to turn around and follow him to see what the deal was. Instead, I kept walking.

Awkward.

 

connectivity

In housing, luddite vs. iDevice, shopping on July 19, 2010 at 4:11 pm

Our dryer started really sucking as an appliance. Sucking energy because it took more than one cycle to dry a load of clothes. Sucking my time because it was taking longer and longer to do the laundry after work. The laundry was backing up such that I was almost to the point of having to wear a skirt. Ye gads. The dryer was plenty hot and the drum was rotating, so it made no sense that the clothes weren’t drying. Ahhh, but have you checked the lint hose? a coworker asked. Because, yes, we were talking about my dryer situation over lunch. We can’t always be discussing lofty ideas, and I refudiate anyone who claims that they do. No, I had not checked the lint hose.

Did a google and came up with the Lint Eater as the solution to our lint issue. Should have let my fingers do the walking online to see if Home Depot carried the item, but it’s just one exit down the freeway so why bother, right? Of course they didn’t carry it. I thought out loud that maybe the Lowe’s down the feeder carried it (because you can’t build a Home Depot unless a Lowe’s is within 2 miles – company policy), but the guy who was helping me not locate the Lint Eater claimed, coincidentally, that he’d just been there looking for a similar item the previous day but they didn’t carry it.

I was about to head back home, defeated and linty, when I thought I’d quickly check the Lowe’s website on my phone. Searched for Lint Eater. Check. Searched my zip code to see if the Lowe’s nearby carried the Lint Eater. Check. So off I went. I will not regale you with the profanity and grunting that ensued once I got home and James and I had to remove the dryer from the very cramped utility room so we could get to the lint hose, or the surprisingly large volume of damp lint that was in said hose (we kept expecting a nest of rats to fall out), or the part where James climbed on our roof to clean the top of the lint trap while it was thundering. The dryer works like a champ now and our lint hose is squeaky clean. And I’m wearing jeans.

All this to say, I love having the internet in my hand when I need it.

sexist baby clothes

In family, people be trippin', sartorial issues, shopping on September 25, 2008 at 6:28 pm

Babies babies everywhere… I’m going to a friend’s baby shower this weekend. Then I’m throwing another friend a shower in October and doing one for my sister-in-law in November (yes, Tohner’s wife is pregnant – first grandchild for my parents and first kid in our generation of Jacksons, so this is BIG news) (but not NEW news – I just try not to talk too much about other people’s stuff) (most of the time). In preparation for all of this baby celebrating, I just did some shopping at BabiesRUs. It was a bit overwhelming.

First, there was the chick who was treating the help like shit. “NO, you’re not listening to what I’m telling you,” she said. She looked as though she’d just gotten off work from her pole dancing job. It’s funny to be in a store with all this baby shit and see a skanky chick walking around with white pants over a black thong. The shirt was see-through too. Of course. I think see-through shirts come free with the boob job, but I’m not sure. Second, it was hot as hell in there. Maybe they were running off a generator – the traffic light nearby was out, too.

I’m amazed at how sexist baby clothes are. Outfits for little boys are covered with tractors and tools and dinosaurs and people doing things. Outfits for girls are covered with fairies or cupcakes or…dots. I know this is not an original observation, it’s just not something I deal with a lot. (I usually give books when I go to baby showers – Where the Sidewalk Ends is one of the regulars). I’m sure little babies don’t remember whether they had construction workers or lollipops on their infant clothes, so the designs are really for the adults who are dressing/looking at the babies. I just think it’s a shame that boys have… action, and girls have…food. They could at least have girl clothes featuring someone baking the cupcakes.

And yes, I realize one could give a little girl an outfit with tractors and frogs on it. But I think a purchase like that has to be made by the parent, not the smartass friend.

[still no internet at home]

a vampire at Half-Price Books

In books, douchebags, shopping on September 7, 2008 at 4:04 pm

There’s a vampire working at Half-Price Books on Westheimer in the Montrose. At least, I’m pretty sure HE thinks he’s a vampire. And maybe he is, what the hell do I know. As he rang my purchases, we made small talk. I said that it was amazingly beautiful outside, and I was sorry he was stuck inside. He said, “That’s okay. I can’t be out in the sun. I’m very sensitive to it.” Then I noticed the fangs. Full on, big ass fangs. Was this a lack of braces in his youth? Did he have them implanted? Maybe they just grew that way and he decided that the best way to live with them was to embrace the whole vampire thing? Like fat high school girls who go goth because, really, what are their other options. He then went on to tell me that he views sunny days the way most people view cloudy ones. OKAY, I get it.

If I’m on my yuppie/recycling game when I go book shopping, I bring my own bag. If not, I usually opt to just carry my purchases naked. Partially in an attempt to not be wasteful and partially because I don’t like the dirty looks I get from the help. Yesterday I bought six books, some of which were little old school paperbacks (Henry Miller‘s soft-core Tropic of Cancer, Ionesco’s Rhinoceros and Huxley‘s Brave New World). Decided I needed a bag, so the vampire grabbed one for me. It wasn’t until I got home that I smelled the cat pee. I was bummed, assuming one of my new (old) books had been sprayed by a cat (one of the many, many reasons I have no use for cats). So I smelled each book. No cat pee. Then I wadded up the plastic Half-Price bag and realized THAT is what smelled. The fuck? Are they so against their customers using bags that they are using cat pee plastic? Are they recycling their bags? If so, how did no one notice the overwhelming acrid smell of cat piss? Thankfully it was a short trip home, so my books don’t smell like anthing other than old books.

In a continuation of this Dilettante column, I saw a new commercial using a 60s tune. A hair coloring product for men is using the intro to Sunshine of Your Love. Here’s the ad copy:

The generation that swore it would never get old … didn’t. Welcome to the summer of life. And now there’s an official hair treatment of the summer of your life. New Touch of Gray from Just for Men. Lets you keep a little gray. Works gradually. Just comb in, rinse.

My God. It’s like a Saturday Night Live sketch (only funny).

grocery shopping, fruit

In family, food and drink, shopping on August 17, 2008 at 5:18 pm

Every Sunday morning, I go grocery shopping at Central Market. Early. It’s really a pleasant experience, fondling the produce, when there aren’t a lot of people around. For the past few weeks, the strawberries (in bulk) have been especially pretty. And for the past few weeks, as I’ve hand-picked a dozen or so, this keeps running through my mind: the darker the berry, the sweeter the juice, the darker the berry, the sweeter the juice. I’m not kidding. And it’s not something I’m thinking in a funny way. It is literally what I use to pick the best strawberries. It works, so what the hell. At least I’ve moved beyond giggling when picking out cucumbers. That only stopped recently.

My folks had a big family gathering yesterday. I was talking to Tohner when I noticed a couple of oranges in the kitchen that had…nipple-like protrusions. They made me laugh, and I (once again) felt kind of embarrassed (and kind of liberated) that I sometimes have the sense of humor of a 12-year-old boy. Then, not ten minutes later, Dad walked by and said something about the oranges, too. Then Mason pointed out that they were directly under the air vent in the ceiling so maybe they were cold. Mom wondered aloud what is wrong with all of us. I’m glad that I have a family like I do. We egg each other on and keep each other in check fairly well.

books books books

In books, Houston, shopping on August 15, 2008 at 7:29 pm

I just popped over to Bookstop at lunch. It’s dangerous for me to go to a bookstore because I always spend too much money and bring home books that I don’t have room for – or, I should say, books that I don’t have shelves for. I can always find a place to stash them. There’s a lot of bitching in this blog about the demise of old Houston. Or what I consider to be “old” Houston – everything’s relative. Every time I go to Bookstop, it pains me to think that it will be at the least closed down and at the most torn down in the not-too-distant future. I wandered around today, trying to figure out what it is that I like about that store, what makes it so much better than a big, bright shiny Barnes and Noble. Was I just following an inner-looper angsty script?

NO. There are plenty of legitimate reasons to bemoan its doom. Beyond the fact that they almost always have in stock whatever I went in there to buy (plus a bunch of other stuff I wasn’t planning on buying), they’re in a recycled building, something that rarely happens in Houston. And because they’re in an old movie theater, there are lots of nooks and crannies, a must for any good bookstore.

[City Lights in San Francisco elevates this to an art form. There are rickety little stairs you go down to get to one of the rooms, and when you get to the bottom stair you feel like you're..somewhere. Not in a generic sense. In an "arrived" sense.]

To buy plays, for instance, you have to go to the upper level, take another short flight up and then go down a short flight to a little room. (Maybe I like stairs to be included in the book buying experience.) You like to have a moment with your books before you buy them, and it’s much better if you have some privacy to do so. You can take your time skimming the book or sniffing the cover or whatever your ritual is without having to worry about the people sitting at Starbucks watching you over the tops of their lattes. Yes, Bookstop has a coffee shop. But the tables are on an aisle, they aren’t pointed at people shopping for books, and it doesn’t seem like an integral part of the operation. Starbucks at a B&N takes up 1/8 of the space. (And yes, I realize B&N owns Bookstop.)

Today I was somewhat restrained. I bought a book for my dad (ignore that, Dad – act surprised when I see you tomorrow), a book for myself and a blank journal. Even though there are probably three or four blank ones at home, if a journal catches my eye I buy it. Sometimes I like to write in a well-worn notebook, and sometimes I need a fresh start. The journal I bought is pretty big and is bound like a book. Its hard cover has a chicken on it. How could I not get it? There will come a day when I need to write something, and that something will only be happy being written in a large chicken journal.

thanks for the effort

In shopping, things that surprise me on August 15, 2008 at 4:35 pm

After downing two glasses of water and a homemade lemonade (tangy deliciousness) at Hobbit Cafe last night, my bladder was pretty much at capacity by the time I got to my next destination – Spec’s. While trying to find the potty, I ran into a guy I used to work with at the Satellite. He told me they didn’t actually have bathrooms there and everyone just hangs it off the back dock. Ha ha ha, now where’s the fricking bathroom?

It was cleaner than I expected, and there was an odd contraption on the toilet seat. Actually, I think it took the place of the toilet seat. It was a padded ring, covered in a thin clear plastic sleeve. A push of the button made the plastic sleeve move completely around the padded ring (and then some). Which in theory might sound like a great way to keep the seat clean, but then you have to think: what if there is only about two or three lengths of this stuff, and it just keeps recycling itself. I mean, isn’t this a little fancy for a liquor store? I can’t believe that they are actually in there changing the plastic out that often. And why have I never seen this technology in any of the other random bathrooms I’ve used? I have a pretty small bladder, so I’ve seen a lot.
Okay, to give you a visual, I just found this thing online.

I need to get a hobby.

the power of Grayskull

In shopping, travel on March 31, 2008 at 10:37 pm

When I was buying bras a week ago, the woman who was helping me started talking to me about the “circumference” of my breasts. That’s an awkward conversation to have with a stranger. Or anyone, really. It was even more awkward when I realized she didn’t work there. Kidding.

I mowed the yard yesterday, and I could almost hear a sigh of relief from the guys who live across the street and are repeat winners of “Yard of the Month.” It’s not that the grass had gotten long but rather that the weeds had. There were weeds in the back yard that I swear sprang from the ground overnight and were three feet high. I ripped those bitches out at the roots so the dogs would have an easier time taking a dump without having to go on an expedition. Though the image of Stella wearing khaki shorts and hiking boots is pretty funny.

I’m making plans to go to the Grand Canyon, hopefully in mid-May. If you have any ideas for the trip (places to stop along the way, places to stay along the way, etc.), please pass them along. My parents stayed at a cool place on the edge of the Canyon that is, of course, booked up for a few months. I guess most people don’t plan a trip to the Grand Canyon on a whim. Or, if they do, they don’t bother checking online for reservations before they go. Yes, a traveling whim for me is a month out. I’d like to hike to the bottom and back up, so that means the trip has to happen soon. It gets over 100 degrees at the bottom during the summer. No thanks. I’m really excited as a) I haven’t been on a true (multi-state) road trip in almost two decades and b) I’ve always wanted to go to the Grand Canyon. Just like sitting on the front porch when a big storm blows in or feeling the pull of the ocean on your body, it’s nice to be amazed by the power of nature once in a while.

wow

In people be trippin', shopping on November 15, 2007 at 12:47 am

Check this. I received a call last Monday letting me know that my new Mazda3 hatchback had arrived at the dealer. My car guy said they were doing the “make ready” that day, and I could pick the car up on Tuesday. So last Monday night, I rubbed on the Miata a bit more than usual in an attempt to say goodbye. Of course, you really can’t ever say goodbye to something you love, even when that something is an inanimate object. The next morning, I got on the phone with the insurance people to get my new policy lined up in preparation for picking up my first new car – ever – later that day.

Then I received a voicemail from my car guy, telling me that my brand spanking new car was in a little “fender bender” in the car dealer’s parking lot and needed to go to the body shop for a bit of cosmetic help. Um, WHAT THE FUCK? Are you serious? The car I’ve been anticipating for FOUR MONTHS finally gets here and is in an accident in the parking lot? Come on, what are the odds? Is the world being run by monkeys?

Remember the first time I tried to buy the Mazda3 hatch – it was this summer and I went to a dealer in Austin because Houston was out of stick shifts. Dad met me at the dealership and remained silent (but deadly) during the first part of the car buying experience, only speaking up when the salesperson spoke an untruth, causing her to flip her whitetrash, shorts-wearing lid and scream, “ARE YOU CALLING ME A LIAR?” as if she was the first car salesperson in the history of the world to be questioned. So we walked and I decided to order a car from a Houston salesperson. One who was wearing pants. [Side note - when I'm making the biggest purchase of my life, thus far, I want to do it with someone who's wearing long pants. I realize it was Austin and life is fucking beautiful there and all that, but put on some big boy/big girl clothes, 'kay?]

So it would seem the universe is conspiring to keep me from buying this particular car. Because I can sure as shit tell you that my first new car will not have been in the body shop prior to my driving it. I don’t want some grease monkey sucking all the new off the upholstery. I told them they could keep my car and refund my downpayment.

I got my downpayment back today, allowing me to finally write about the experience. I don’t know what my next step will be, but I’ve given up on buying this car. The only reason I was even going to get a new car in the first place is because I really dig the Mazda3. It doesn’t take a genius (thankfully) to see that it ain’t happening. I mean, I’ve always lived my life by following signs. The signs about this purchase have been pretty freaking clear. I don’t need to go for three strikes. I’m out.

What’s next? Who the hell knows. As much as I love the Miata, I need a backseat. I’ll probably go with a used car. Something with a little bit of flava.

you’re all different (I’m not)

In shopping, theatre on September 22, 2007 at 2:08 pm

The lack of blogging can be attributed to two things. One, I’m writing my show (finally). Two, I had lots of shit to do after work this week, including going to a wedding shower. I’ve got to quit making friends with heterosexual unmarried people in their 20s so I can avoid having to go to Dillard’s to buy gravy boats. Actually, I tend to not buy people the things on their registry. See this Dilettante for my take on that. But it doesn’t mean I don’t want to give them something nice to celebrate this passage in their lives. One of my favorite gifts to give is a box of spices from Penzey’s. That gift fits literally any budget. You can do a cheap three-spice collection, or you can give the huge wedding crate, complete with a shitload of spices, grinders, etc. I highly recommend, even if neither of the people getting married are cooks. Those spices and spice combinations smell so good, it’ll make anyone want to cook something.

Last night I had a reading of the new stuff I’ve been cranking out. It always amazes me how much good actors bring to the process. I heard things in the writing that I didn’t consciously put there – things that the actors got immediately. I don’t question the writing process as it’s happening. I’ll write something and have no idea why. Why did he say that? Why did she do that? But I don’t stop to wonder, I just keep going. Because it (usually) makes sense eventually. Sometimes not until I have a reading, like last night, and sometimes not until the writing has been sitting in a drawer marinating for a few months. Robert was, of course, involved in last night’s reading and will be in the show. And no, I still don’t have a date. Finding a space has been a BITCH. I expect for things to be hammered out next week, and as soon as they are, I’ll post the date here. The cool stickers I ordered (you know you want one) came in last week, and I’ll be handing those out with the flyer very soon. Watch this space.

oooohhh that smell (longest blog ever – seriously)

In douchebags, shopping on July 10, 2007 at 3:30 am

New car smell. Never had it, but I’ve smelled it in other people’s vehicles. It’s weird. Anyway, after 3.5 years of driving a two-seater with a fabric top, I decided to get something completely different. Wrote about this maybe six months ago in my blog, but it took me until today to make it happen. Some things I do on a whim, others take more time. Especially a big purchase like this.

I tend to keep cars for a long time (Miata excluded), so I wanted to get something that would be multi-purpose. My life sometimes takes tangents. I wanted a vehicle that would handle tangents AND road trips. Today, I ordered a 2008 Mazda 3 hatchback. It’s a great little car with quite a bit of room to haul shit. What kind of shit? I don’t know, but now I can haul it. Or, I will be able to haul it when the car arrives in a few months.

This was not an easy purchase for me on many levels. I’m still paying off the Miata, and the new car payments will not be much higher than where I’ve been. So that’s good. I don’t put a lot of miles on my vehicles (that 3-mile drive to work helps keep the mileage low), so this needed to be a car I wouldn’t get tired of very quickly. Break-ins aside, I really love my convertible. Especially in the fall/winter/spring season. The season we have that isn’t hot. Plus, I tend to develop almost crazy emotional connections to the car I drive, so this is a bit like a break up. A break up that almost happened this weekend.

I’m all about driving stick. Snicker. And there were no 5-speed 3 hatchbacks in Houston. None. In any trim level. So I had to go to Austin Saturday to maybe buy the ONE that Mazda South had on its lot. I had talked to this chick (let’s call her Alicia, since that’s her name) over the phone on the 4th, and she gave me a pretty decent price. Decent enough to get me to drive out there. If there is one phobia I have (and, seriously, I have like eighty), it’s that someone is going to make me feel like a dumbass. So I did my homework. Arrived there with a whole packet of shit I’d printed up from various car research sites (I wrote about this in a fairly extensive and boring manner in Dilettante). Also, I brought my secret weapon – Steve Jackson. Those of you who know my dad get it. Those of you who don’t, let me tell you how he described me once to one of his clients, “Yeah, Crystal’s a lot like me, only with big tits.” You see where I get it.

So we get to the dealer, and Alicia looks like an ex-professional softball player. She seems nice. We go for a test drive. Before we’ve even reached the car in the parking lot, Dad notices a big fucking DENT in what is my potential new car. Much like seeing a huge pimple on your prom date, I’m not to thrilled with this development. She sees me begin to retreat from the car and assures me they’ll be able to take $300 off the car. Having arrived in full negotiation mode, I immediately think that I can turn that $300 into a $500 discount, and I am guessing it will only cost about $100 to get fixed (I just had a dent popped out of the Miata to up its resale value). So we go on our test drive, and the chick has me go down this road that has all these weird intersections. I can’t figure out where she wants me to go, and I find myself having to ask her at every fucking stop sign. It distracts me from the business at hand.

We get back to the dealership, and Dad lets me know that he could even see the dent from inside the showroom when I returned from the test drive. UGH! This is my first new car, so I’m not too thrilled. But I can get over it for the right discount. I give her the keys to the Miata so they can do their appraisal, and we get down to brass tacks. She claims that she can’t go any lower than the price she quoted me over the phone. I tell her of the problem I had with the main Mazda website – they are offering a $300 rebate, but they never emailed me the certificate. In case it was my over-zealous pop up blocker or something, I asked Dad to try from Industry. No dice. Then Mason. Nope. So obviously if we three incredibly intelligent (and attractive) people can’t do it, there’s a problem.

You would think that my car SALESperson would apologize for the inconvenience and suggest an alternative so I can get my $300 off. $300 that will be paid by Mazda, not her dealership. Nope. She says that “plenty of other people here today had no trouble getting the certificate so I don’t know what to tell you.” She then continues (and this is rich) to suggest we go to the business across the street and she will use their computer to do it for us. AS IF WE WERE TOO FUCKING STUPID TO FILL OUT A FORM THAT, LITERALLY, REQUIRED NOTHING MORE THAN YOUR NAME AND EMAIL ADDRESS. What a dumbass. Talk about not reading your customer. So we explain to her that the form was not the issue and perhaps she could talk to “Mazda” about it. She says that is not an option. For me, this is the moment the deal went sour. I was willing to forgive the dent (assuming the discount made it worth my while), but this bullshit was too much.

So we continue. I’m starting to get red at this point (and yes, David, there was slight movement in my eyelid). I say, “Okay, so how much are you taking off for the dent?” She says, “I can’t take this price any lower. This is already less than the dealer paid for the car.”

Steve had been pretty silent up to this point. He was sitting next to me, laid back in his chair with his sunglasses on and letting me do my thing. He sits a bit more upright at her comment and says, “Come on, Alicia.” She starts to get agitated and says (and this was the death of her and the final killer of the deal), “Are you calling me a LIAR?” Ree-fucking-dick-you-luss. So Dad takes off his sunglasses, leans forward just inches from her reddening face, and says, “How long have you been selling cars, Alicia?” “Thirteen years.” “Well, I’ve been buying cars for thirty, and I know for a fact that you have not quoted us a price that is LOWER than what you paid for the car.” She FREAKS. Seriously. I played out many scenarios prior to going to Austin, but this was in no way predicted. She starts trying to move money around and tells me they can give me more for my trade (duh – they way undervalued the Miata – I know this because I got it appraised at CarMax and had done my homework). She comes up with some bullshit price and I tell her we need to discuss it. Alone.

She leaves for a bit and Dad tells me he wouldn’t really want to continue working with her but it’s up to me. I say fuck it. Let’s roll. She comes back and I tell her we’re going to discuss it over lunch. She asks if she can recommend something. I tell her no, that we’re meeting my brother who lives in Austin. In other words, we’re not in uncharted territory. Austin’s not that far from Houston. So we leave to meet Mom, Mason and Taylor at Guerro’s. Have fun telling the story over some really strong margaritas.

Let me back up. Before having my first drink, Alicia calls. I answer, and Mason motions to me to go outside and take my time with the conversation. She starts throwing all these numbers at me and asks if that is what I wanted. I tell her that actually I’m still thinking about the way things went down at the dealership. I let her know that I’m amazed at what transpired. She says that, yes, things got out of hand, and she’s a big enough person to apologize when she’s wrong.

When someone tells you what a big person they are for apologizing when THEY fucked up, they’re not really apologizing. So I explain to her that she was working for me and had no business losing her cool like that. She tells me that I arrived at the dealership with a “chip” on my shoulder. I tell her that if I did, it’s because this is a huge purchase for me and everyone knows when they buy a new car they’re going to get fucked. She says they are not in the business to screw anybody and that she is moving my car request over to some manager at the dealership. I remind her that these negotiations are part of her job and that most people who are buying cars do that like every three years at most. In other words, if anyone is going to lose their cool during negotiations, it should be the car buyer who has much less information than the salesperson. Whatever. They could have offered to sell me the car for five dollars at that point and it wouldn’t have made a diff. I was through.

On my drive back to Houston, I had a lot of time to replay the whole thing in my mind. I thought about the guy I talked to at Jeff Haas the night before. I wanted to make sure that this Houston dealer wasn’t going to get some end-of-the-model-year delivery that would include the car I wanted. He told me they would not, so I shared with him that I was going to Austin the next day. Told him the details of the deal, and he said that he thought I was getting a good price and should go for it. He also directed me to the $300 coupon (which I already knew about, but still). So as I was nearing home and approaching that dealership, I decided to pop in and look at the four-doors they had in stock.

The dealership was about to close, but Bob took me out to look at a car. In the rain. I told him the story about the Austin dealer, and he was amazed. He said that almost everyone had been having trouble with the coupon, and he’d told his customers to print it up later and mail it to him. So Alicia had more options than just telling me I was shit outta luck. I liked Bob. So I considered getting a four-door. He gave me a great price with pretty much no haggling. I think he’s pretty above-board, and I also think he got the deal with where I’m at. A crucial ingredient in a good salesperson. Before going to the dealer today to (perhaps) complete the deal on the four-door, I noticed on the dealer invoice that the car had been on the lot since last year. That seemed fairly weird to me and to Dad. We wondered why a car would be on the lot that long. I started imagining hail damage or flood issues.

Bob assured me that nothing was wrong with the car as we were on our test drive (the car only had five miles on it), but he didn’t poo-poo my fears. He didn’t try the hard sell. So I decided on that drive that I would just order a 2008 and get exactly what I want. As I said, I’d like to get something I can keep for a long time and I think the hatchback is a better bet. Again, no pressure from him. So I ordered a new car, put down a small deposit and was on my way. I feel great about the price I got and the way I was treated.

So there you go.

tactical error

In douchebags, shopping on February 6, 2007 at 8:26 pm

So I’m thinking about buying a new car. Not because I’ve fallen out of love with the Miata – I still think she’s a beautiful car and am psyched about the great convertible weather that’s on its way. But a two-seater is not a good car to have as your daily driver unless you have a larger vehicle as back up. Especially if you have a hard time being a passenger and like to be the designated driver (not in the M.A.D.D. way). So with mixed feelings, I’ve begun the search for the next car.

Here’s a picture of the Miata in the driveway in the full-moonlight last weekend.


Pretty, huh? She’s a lovely dark blue color. Anyway, drunk on homemade sangria Saturday night, I stupidly filled out an online form at a local car dealer inquiring about the car I’m interested in buying. I know. Stupid. Don’t ask me why I thought that I could have an email conversation about this. Yeah, not gonna happen. The dude at the dealership has emailed me every day since. Thankfully I had enough sense to not list my phone number. His emails are really condescending. He thinks he’s being… encouraging, I guess, but he’s really just turning me off.

It’s ridiculous that you know you’re going to get fucked when you buy a car. It’s bullshit that it’s a given in our society that the price you pay for your car is based more upon your abilities to negotiate and/or be an asshole than it is on what the car costs. Why is this acceptable practice? I know that Saturn sells their cars at a certain price with no negotiation and no commission for their salespeople (at least, this is the way it was when they first came on the scene), but I’m not interested in a Saturn right now so that doesn’t help me.

Can you imagine if other transactions were completed like car sales? You go to a restaurant, have a seat and then begin the bidding process for a bottle of wine. You’re drinking a Château Lafite you paid $25 for while that sad sack over there is drinking a bottle of MD 20/20 for $30.

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