So_Who Do You Know That Wants To Buy a Car?

At about this time last year a monster of a large employment website came through with a positive result from my job query. A very pleasant woman whose name is Jane, sent an e-mail proposing an interview for a position as a new car salesperson. I was flattered. Especially after she continued to send proposals until I relented and set up an appointment for an interview.

I had just moved to Florida and was enjoying my recently acquired retired status from a U.S. auto parts assembly plant. The possibility of staying involved with the new car manufacturing process was interesting. And I had an interest in new cars and new car sales.

To get to the dealership, a Ford dealership having a distinguished Florida history; required driving over a very long bridge across the St. Johns river. During the next several weeks I would enjoy that part of the journey over the scenic river. But I was enjoying the ride on off-peak traffic times--at full traffic capacity the same trip could be exasperating.

Driving onto the large Ford lot the first thing I noticed were the many old oak trees draped in spanish moss. They were scattered throughout the lot, tossing their shade over the sparkling new cars. I noticed the new Mustangs first, and in no time at all I was out of my car and walking among the cars and trees. At that time the Flex was just out. And initially the car looked strange to me. But after closer examination I liked the little limousine. Later, I tried to explain both my enthusiasm for the new car model and the Flex itself, with little success. My friends responses were like my first impression. It seems you have to see the vehicle for yourself to appreciate it.

The lot and the buildings seemed to be built into the woods, like a KOA campground. The lot man was out early with a leaf blower, making the lot area neat. I decided then that I would like to work there. I wouldn't even mind just running the leaf blower.

I went back to my car to get my notepad and phone, enjoying more of the shade dappled lot and shiny new cars. As I returned to the buildings I saw a man on one of the porches, foot on the middle porch rail, smoking a cigarette. It was the "Jet," but I didn't know that yet. He appeared very businesslike, but he was friendly--dressed a notch above the car salesmen in the show room. I was sure he would be doing the interviewing. I was in for a lively week and the "Jet" would be the spark-plug.

Sure enough, after being received and seated by the dealership's receptionist, Jet comes walking into the showroom. With a big smile and a hearty welcome he says he is glad to see me. Jet is an animated man with a positive demeanor, and I liked him from our first meeting.

Once we were away from the showroom and back into the office area it was like being back in my old auto plant. That plant produced engine control modules (computers) and other electronic body controllers for cars, so there was plenty of office area in the plant. I followed Jet to a corner window office. The short trip was oddly comforting in its familiarity.

I could see I was heading for a one-on-one interview with Jet and that it had begun as we walked to the office. I was already sure that my interviewer was a self-made man. He worked at putting me at ease by explaining his background in the car industry and went on to say the process we were in would be an easy one. He told me to relax.

The interview quickly became friendly banter. I have a background in the style and type of interview Jet was using so things went well. He had a good mix of methods for interviewing and went through them quickly, adding in some role play and several pointed challenges for good measure.

I could see there was a class and classmates in my immediate future as the interview wound down to just conversation. Jet told me I had made the cut for the training program and to come back for it. Then he was blunt, wear business attire--meaning a coat and tie. Arrive fifteen minutes early in order to be on time for class. And be ready to participate in the class because he expected me to.

I left the offices happy. I liked the trainer and I was sure he would run a tight but lively class. I stepped over to the dealership's garage to check it out. It was neat and clean with a reasonable amount of activity. I lingered for awhile, taking in the smells and sounds of a working garage--there is nothing else like it. Then I left for my ride over the river and home.

So there we were that first morning, at least twelve people, sitting around several long conference tables. Wondering out loud what was in store for us.

Looking like a high school study hall and us the students without a teacher, the conversations were quiet at first, then a little bit of laughter, in a short time we were at the point of getting unruly. And in walks the Jet, who seems to appreciate the noise, saying we must be getting to know each other. He issued some ground rules and required agreement to them. He had a habit of ending each question with "yes or no?" and then a pause to secure affirmation. From there he launched into a lively lecture about selling cars. You could tell he was high on the idea. To hear him tell it, he has always been an adventurer, and is an adventurer and we could be adventurers too. Selling cars.

Ours was an eclectic group. There was a happy soul in that group and the happiest of us all was a sailor about to retire from the Navy. He reminded me of Sinbad, the comedian. He just did not seem old enough to be retiring. He was constantly laughing and could keep a funny dialog going without dominating the conversation. He struck me as a car salesman "gold mine," because immediately upon meeting him you wanted him to stick around.

There were several "kids," meaning they were young, smart, people. The format seemed to confuse them. As Jet tried to draw them out into the process they seemed to retreat even more. They just weren't ready. And there was the former real estate professional who had a demeanor like Ben Stein. He was smart, and cautious when he spoke, his responses were carefully considered before he said them. We ended up as partners and in one of the exercises, introduced each other. I stuck close to him the whole time. He said bluntly it was "all about the money."

Noticeably competent was one erudite, middle aged, attractive woman that had run a lingerie business of her own. She had an air of accomplishment about her. Jet used her as an example of needs, such as we all had in looking for a job or pursuing a career. At one point I felt he went a bit too far in revealing her personal story, yet, she was gracious in her responses. He must have received her permission prior to sharing her story, nevertheless, it made me uncomfortable.

We also had a "road angel." An older man that operated a roadside assistance vehicle servicing the interstate. A good man, unfortunately he traded in his mechanic's clothes for an ensemble that made him a caricature of a used car salesman. Which also made me consider my clothing selection. I wasn't that long out of denim. I admired him for his willingness to try something new.

In between the training sessions it was explained that we were being trained for a sales company with a nation wide reach. The local dealer's General Sales Manager came in and said he wanted to train us from the ground up and that this "nation" of auto dealers numbered four hundred. Very collegiate in physical appearance he was dressed for business right down to his cuff links and men's hose instead of socks. I felt self-conscious for me and the road-angel. The General Sales Manager said, "we will teach you from a nationally developed sales menu." I realized we would no longer belong to the Jet, we had been "procured."

Maybe I would be running a leaf blower!

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