Harrassed By Dealer While Buying Parts...
7/21/05, 01:59 AM
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I do all my own work on my cars, and I was stocking up on oil filters. I usually like to go with Motorcraft, so I get my filters from a dealer. I went to a local dealer in Lakewood, NJ called Pine Belt Ford/Suzuki.
I parked my car in the first space I saw, locked the doors, and ran down to the parts building. After I bought my filters, I was walking back to my car and decided to check out the '05s they had for sale there. I think it was two V6s and one silver GT. The V6s were both marked up 1k and the GT was marked up 5k. Typical, I thought to myself.
So then I headed back to my car. I rounded the corner of the showroom building to find a salesman dressed in a cream shirt and tan pants LEANING against my driver's side door. He was thin, bald, and looked general sleazy.
"This ya car, buddy?" he says in a slick, greasy voice.
"Yeah, it's mine. Would you mind not leaning on the paint job?"
The salesman ignores my comment. "Lot of people want this car, kid."
I hate being called a kid. It sounds like I'm some sort of spoiled brat. I worked for my car. I worked for my house. "I'll give ya 20k right now and a free ride home if ya sell it to me. How's that sound?" He flashes me a cheese-eating grin.
"No. You guys sell used GTs for 35k. I'm not going to let you rip someone off and jack me out of my car in the process. Now get off my door."
The salesman rolls his eyes and raises his hands to his shoulders. "Okay, okay, ya got me. I'll give ya 22k for it. How's that sound?"
I'm really starting get irritated at this point. I just wanted some oil filters, this guy is still leaning against my car, and I'm noticing his belt doesn't look exactly baby soft. "How about if I break you nose? How does THAT sound? Get OFF my door."
The salesman's grin fades at this remark and he finally walks away from my door. I glance at the door panel to see if it's scratched, saw that it wasn't, and opened the door to store my bag of filters on the back seat. I sit down in the driver's seat. I look up as I'm reattaching my Escort X50 to find El-Sleazo kneeling down in front of my car's grill, his BARE HANDS on the hood. I've about had enough the guy, so I start the motor and blare the horn at the same time. The guy jumps backwards, stumbles, and smacks against the showroom's pane glass window.
The salesman is furious. His face is beet red, and everyone in the showroom is staring at us. "Why'd ya do THAT, kid!?"
Again, with kid. "Because you smeared your greasy hands all over my hood. I just came here to buy some oil filters, not be harassed by you."
The salesman was obviously embarrassed. He got that cheese-eating grin on his face again, but there was something wrong. It looked more like a vicious sneer. His eyes were brighter now. His chest was heaving in and out. His nostrils were flaring. His voice dripped with sarcasm. "Hey, ya got a bug smear on your fender here." He planted his shoe on my fender and SCRAPED it down.
That was it. I snapped. I cut my motor and took the key out as I leapt out of the car. Before the little bastard could react, I grabbed him by his cream polo, heaved him off his feet and slammed him into the showroom's glass window. I held him up by his neck, his feet kicking at my shins weakly, his hand blindly slapping at my arms. He was making little crawing noises in his throat. "You see me," I whispered, holding my car key half an inch from his left eye. "You see my face, you little rat-eyed piece of garbage? Because if you ever touch my car again, I'll be the LAST thing you ever see, you sleazy bastard." Then I let him crumple to the ground. He stared up at me, his face wounded, his eyes full of impotent rage. "Get up then, if you want more." He didn't get up.
As I walked back to my car a very fat and equally sleazy looking man burst out of the showroom and lumbered over to my car.
"Hey! Hey, you can't... you can't DOOOO that!!" he yelled.
I ignored him and got in my car. I started it up and left.
When I got home, I felt kind of bad. Especially when I inspected the fender he tried to scrape and saw that there wasn't a scratch on it (or bug smear), even though he scraped his shoe on it pretty darn hard. What do you guys think? Was I nuts?
DISCLAIMER: Everything written in this post is a work of fiction. Any resemblance to any events or to any persons living or dead (or with sore throats and red faces) is coincidental.
I parked my car in the first space I saw, locked the doors, and ran down to the parts building. After I bought my filters, I was walking back to my car and decided to check out the '05s they had for sale there. I think it was two V6s and one silver GT. The V6s were both marked up 1k and the GT was marked up 5k. Typical, I thought to myself.
So then I headed back to my car. I rounded the corner of the showroom building to find a salesman dressed in a cream shirt and tan pants LEANING against my driver's side door. He was thin, bald, and looked general sleazy.
"This ya car, buddy?" he says in a slick, greasy voice.
"Yeah, it's mine. Would you mind not leaning on the paint job?"
The salesman ignores my comment. "Lot of people want this car, kid."
I hate being called a kid. It sounds like I'm some sort of spoiled brat. I worked for my car. I worked for my house. "I'll give ya 20k right now and a free ride home if ya sell it to me. How's that sound?" He flashes me a cheese-eating grin.
"No. You guys sell used GTs for 35k. I'm not going to let you rip someone off and jack me out of my car in the process. Now get off my door."
The salesman rolls his eyes and raises his hands to his shoulders. "Okay, okay, ya got me. I'll give ya 22k for it. How's that sound?"
I'm really starting get irritated at this point. I just wanted some oil filters, this guy is still leaning against my car, and I'm noticing his belt doesn't look exactly baby soft. "How about if I break you nose? How does THAT sound? Get OFF my door."
The salesman's grin fades at this remark and he finally walks away from my door. I glance at the door panel to see if it's scratched, saw that it wasn't, and opened the door to store my bag of filters on the back seat. I sit down in the driver's seat. I look up as I'm reattaching my Escort X50 to find El-Sleazo kneeling down in front of my car's grill, his BARE HANDS on the hood. I've about had enough the guy, so I start the motor and blare the horn at the same time. The guy jumps backwards, stumbles, and smacks against the showroom's pane glass window.
The salesman is furious. His face is beet red, and everyone in the showroom is staring at us. "Why'd ya do THAT, kid!?"
Again, with kid. "Because you smeared your greasy hands all over my hood. I just came here to buy some oil filters, not be harassed by you."
The salesman was obviously embarrassed. He got that cheese-eating grin on his face again, but there was something wrong. It looked more like a vicious sneer. His eyes were brighter now. His chest was heaving in and out. His nostrils were flaring. His voice dripped with sarcasm. "Hey, ya got a bug smear on your fender here." He planted his shoe on my fender and SCRAPED it down.
That was it. I snapped. I cut my motor and took the key out as I leapt out of the car. Before the little bastard could react, I grabbed him by his cream polo, heaved him off his feet and slammed him into the showroom's glass window. I held him up by his neck, his feet kicking at my shins weakly, his hand blindly slapping at my arms. He was making little crawing noises in his throat. "You see me," I whispered, holding my car key half an inch from his left eye. "You see my face, you little rat-eyed piece of garbage? Because if you ever touch my car again, I'll be the LAST thing you ever see, you sleazy bastard." Then I let him crumple to the ground. He stared up at me, his face wounded, his eyes full of impotent rage. "Get up then, if you want more." He didn't get up.
As I walked back to my car a very fat and equally sleazy looking man burst out of the showroom and lumbered over to my car.
"Hey! Hey, you can't... you can't DOOOO that!!" he yelled.
I ignored him and got in my car. I started it up and left.
When I got home, I felt kind of bad. Especially when I inspected the fender he tried to scrape and saw that there wasn't a scratch on it (or bug smear), even though he scraped his shoe on it pretty darn hard. What do you guys think? Was I nuts?
DISCLAIMER: Everything written in this post is a work of fiction. Any resemblance to any events or to any persons living or dead (or with sore throats and red faces) is coincidental.
7/21/05, 05:42 AM
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I believe the story is real, since posting up that you physically assaulted someone could be used against you (in court). So basically, post up what happened, and throw a disclaimer at the bottom to keep the prosecuters and self incriminating evidence at bay.
That being said, I think you handled the situation pretty well. The part of him leaning on the door would have gotten my furious. The cheesey grin and pathetic offers to purchase the car would have merely disgusted and humored me, but somebody leaning and putting there grubby hands on it after I specifically asked them not too, is just asking for a beat down.
The final straw would have been him kicking the car. It was obvious now that he is attacking the car and trying to do damage by scraping his shoe on the bumper. That's it, game over, now it's fight's on.
The same thing happened to me once. This guy and I were always talking about each other's car, which was better, etc. One day, I'm pulling out of the parking lot and he has a small football, and he runs out in front of me, blocks my path, and throws the football and stirkes the center of the windshield. I go code red, get out of the car, walk up to him, grab him by the throat and lift him off the ground and tell him if he ever touches my car again, I'll f'ing kill him. Never had a problem after that.
I think you did pretty good. No way could I have just drove off after somebody scraped there shoe on my car on purpose. Even if you would have stopped right there and call the cops, what are they going to do? There was no damage? Or talk to his manager? He'll be on that guys side, now you'll have two people (or more) calling you kid and tryng to touch your car to annoy you, scraping imaginary bugs off your bumper, and making ridiculous offer to purchase your car.
Maybe you could file a complaint with Ford, but I imagine they are too busy selling cars to worry about a cheesy salesman.
I wouldn't go back there again, and I'd tell everybody I could about it to keep them from going there. Best thing to do is beat them down with a bad reputation.
That being said, I think you handled the situation pretty well. The part of him leaning on the door would have gotten my furious. The cheesey grin and pathetic offers to purchase the car would have merely disgusted and humored me, but somebody leaning and putting there grubby hands on it after I specifically asked them not too, is just asking for a beat down.
The final straw would have been him kicking the car. It was obvious now that he is attacking the car and trying to do damage by scraping his shoe on the bumper. That's it, game over, now it's fight's on.
The same thing happened to me once. This guy and I were always talking about each other's car, which was better, etc. One day, I'm pulling out of the parking lot and he has a small football, and he runs out in front of me, blocks my path, and throws the football and stirkes the center of the windshield. I go code red, get out of the car, walk up to him, grab him by the throat and lift him off the ground and tell him if he ever touches my car again, I'll f'ing kill him. Never had a problem after that.
I think you did pretty good. No way could I have just drove off after somebody scraped there shoe on my car on purpose. Even if you would have stopped right there and call the cops, what are they going to do? There was no damage? Or talk to his manager? He'll be on that guys side, now you'll have two people (or more) calling you kid and tryng to touch your car to annoy you, scraping imaginary bugs off your bumper, and making ridiculous offer to purchase your car.
Maybe you could file a complaint with Ford, but I imagine they are too busy selling cars to worry about a cheesy salesman.
I wouldn't go back there again, and I'd tell everybody I could about it to keep them from going there. Best thing to do is beat them down with a bad reputation.
7/21/05, 07:14 AM
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I grabbed him by his cream polo, heaved him off his feet and slammed him into the showroom's glass window. I held him up by his neck, his feet kicking at my shins weakly, his hand blindly slapping at my arms. He was making little crawing noises in his throat. "You see me," I whispered, holding my car key half an inch from his left eye
It's either (as you say) entirely untrue, or a liberally exagerated story. 
7/21/05, 07:24 AM
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Originally posted by StangerX@July 21, 2005, 8:17 AM
Would be pretty hard to hold someone up off of the ground AND hold a key up to his eye. It's either (as you say) entirely untrue, or a liberally exagerated story.
Would be pretty hard to hold someone up off of the ground AND hold a key up to his eye.
It's either (as you say) entirely untrue, or a liberally exagerated story. 
7/21/05, 07:41 AM
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Originally posted by StangerX@July 21, 2005, 7:17 AM
Would be pretty hard to hold someone up off of the ground AND hold a key up to his eye. It's either (as you say) entirely untrue, or a liberally exagerated story.
Would be pretty hard to hold someone up off of the ground AND hold a key up to his eye.
It's either (as you say) entirely untrue, or a liberally exagerated story. 
Nah...we were taking fire on a street in downtown Kuwait City when I saw a skinny kid of maybe 110lbs wet who clean jerked another guy over a barricade...the guy he grabbed was an easy 230lbs....grabbed him by his ALICE straps and just pulled....Being PO'd can REALLY pump u up.
Jay
7/21/05, 07:49 AM
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Same thing happened when Hatchman and I went to pick up his grey stang, there was this fat old drunk guy leaning all over the car looking into it when we went outside, and I was about ready to go balistik, when he looks up and says "Oh, is this yours?" Stupid people!!!!
7/21/05, 07:56 AM
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You said he had a GT in Stock...
Next time lean all over it put your hands all over that Gt...Watch how fast that donkey doughnut leaves you alone...
Also, get a sales manager and make a big scene in the main showroom...That will make lots of sales people backoff....They dont like to look bad in front of a crowd...
OR dont get mad next time and just have fun playing the game back at them...Remember they are at work you are not..You have the upper hand...
You will not change a salesman from being a *****...But you will feel better and no jail time for hitting him...
A smartass can only get away with what you let him get away with...So make a fool of him..He will not bother you again..
A Biker told me a story once about coming out of a store to find some jerk sitting on his bike, after asking him many times to get off the bike, he then asked the guy where his car was....He then went and sat in the guys car...needless to say he got off the bike...
Next time lean all over it put your hands all over that Gt...Watch how fast that donkey doughnut leaves you alone...
Also, get a sales manager and make a big scene in the main showroom...That will make lots of sales people backoff....They dont like to look bad in front of a crowd...
OR dont get mad next time and just have fun playing the game back at them...Remember they are at work you are not..You have the upper hand...
You will not change a salesman from being a *****...But you will feel better and no jail time for hitting him...
A smartass can only get away with what you let him get away with...So make a fool of him..He will not bother you again..
A Biker told me a story once about coming out of a store to find some jerk sitting on his bike, after asking him many times to get off the bike, he then asked the guy where his car was....He then went and sat in the guys car...needless to say he got off the bike...
7/21/05, 08:10 AM
#14
interesting story, some of which I believe, some I don't. Anyway if that happened to me I am sure I would have reacted the same way but I would have hauled his hiney into the store and asked to see the owner while one hand waswrapped around the guys neck.
7/21/05, 08:21 AM
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If nothing else, very well-written. I enjoyed it, which is rare for such a long post. Especially the part about starting the motor and blaring the horn as he was down inspecting the grill.
"Ok, you got me. How about $22k?"
7/21/05, 08:24 AM
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That was a lovely story, and you told it so well.... With such enthusiasum....! 
Originally posted by OBleedingMe@July 21, 2005, 1:02 AM
I do all my own work on my cars, and I was stocking up on oil filters. I usually like to go with Motorcraft, so I get my filters from a dealer. I went to a local dealer in Lakewood, NJ called Pine Belt Ford/Suzuki.
I parked my car in the first space I saw, locked the doors, and ran down to the parts building. After I bought my filters, I was walking back to my car and decided to check out the '05s they had for sale there. I think it was two V6s and one silver GT. The V6s were both marked up 1k and the GT was marked up 5k. Typical, I thought to myself.
So then I headed back to my car. I rounded the corner of the showroom building to find a salesman dressed in a cream shirt and tan pants LEANING against my driver's side door. He was thin, bald, and looked general sleazy.
"This ya car, buddy?" he says in a slick, greasy voice.
"Yeah, it's mine. Would you mind not leaning on the paint job?"
The salesman ignores my comment. "Lot of people want this car, kid."
I hate being called a kid. It sounds like I'm some sort of spoiled brat. I worked for my car. I worked for my house. "I'll give ya 20k right now and a free ride home if ya sell it to me. How's that sound?" He flashes me a cheese-eating grin.
"No. You guys sell used GTs for 35k. I'm not going to let you rip someone off and jack me out of my car in the process. Now get off my door."
The salesman rolls his eyes and raises his hands to his shoulders. "Okay, okay, ya got me. I'll give ya 22k for it. How's that sound?"
I'm really starting get irritated at this point. I just wanted some oil filters, this guy is still leaning against my car, and I'm noticing his belt doesn't look exactly baby soft. "How about if I break you nose? How does THAT sound? Get OFF my door."
The salesman's grin fades at this remark and he finally walks away from my door. I glance at the door panel to see if it's scratched, saw that it wasn't, and opened the door to store my bag of filters on the back seat. I sit down in the driver's seat. I look up as I'm reattaching my Escort X50 to find El-Sleazo kneeling down in front of my car's grill, his BARE HANDS on the hood. I've about had enough the guy, so I start the motor and blare the horn at the same time. The guy jumps backwards, stumbles, and smacks against the showroom's pane glass window.
The salesman is furious. His face is beet red, and everyone in the showroom is staring at us. "Why'd ya do THAT, kid!?"
Again, with kid. "Because you smeared your greasy hands all over my hood. I just came here to buy some oil filters, not be harassed by you."
The salesman was obviously embarrassed. He got that cheese-eating grin on his face again, but there was something wrong. It looked more like a vicious sneer. His eyes were brighter now. His chest was heaving in and out. His nostrils were flaring. His voice dripped with sarcasm. "Hey, ya got a bug smear on your fender here." He planted his shoe on my fender and SCRAPED it down.
That was it. I snapped. I cut my motor and took the key out as I leapt out of the car. Before the little bastard could react, I grabbed him by his cream polo, heaved him off his feet and slammed him into the showroom's glass window. I held him up by his neck, his feet kicking at my shins weakly, his hand blindly slapping at my arms. He was making little crawing noises in his throat. "You see me," I whispered, holding my car key half an inch from his left eye. "You see my face, you little rat-eyed piece of garbage? Because if you ever touch my car again, I'll be the LAST thing you ever see, you sleazy bastard." Then I let him crumple to the ground. He stared up at me, his face wounded, his eyes full of impotent rage. "Get up then, if you want more." He didn't get up.
As I walked back to my car a very fat and equally sleazy looking man burst out of the showroom and lumbered over to my car.
"Hey! Hey, you can't... you can't DOOOO that!!" he yelled.
I ignored him and got in my car. I started it up and left.
When I got home, I felt kind of bad. Especially when I inspected the fender he tried to scrape and saw that there wasn't a scratch on it (or bug smear), even though he scraped his shoe on it pretty darn hard. What do you guys think? Was I nuts?
DISCLAIMER: Everything written in this post is a work of fiction. Any resemblance to any events or to any persons living or dead (or with sore throats and red faces) is coincidental.
I do all my own work on my cars, and I was stocking up on oil filters. I usually like to go with Motorcraft, so I get my filters from a dealer. I went to a local dealer in Lakewood, NJ called Pine Belt Ford/Suzuki.
I parked my car in the first space I saw, locked the doors, and ran down to the parts building. After I bought my filters, I was walking back to my car and decided to check out the '05s they had for sale there. I think it was two V6s and one silver GT. The V6s were both marked up 1k and the GT was marked up 5k. Typical, I thought to myself.
So then I headed back to my car. I rounded the corner of the showroom building to find a salesman dressed in a cream shirt and tan pants LEANING against my driver's side door. He was thin, bald, and looked general sleazy.
"This ya car, buddy?" he says in a slick, greasy voice.
"Yeah, it's mine. Would you mind not leaning on the paint job?"
The salesman ignores my comment. "Lot of people want this car, kid."
I hate being called a kid. It sounds like I'm some sort of spoiled brat. I worked for my car. I worked for my house. "I'll give ya 20k right now and a free ride home if ya sell it to me. How's that sound?" He flashes me a cheese-eating grin.
"No. You guys sell used GTs for 35k. I'm not going to let you rip someone off and jack me out of my car in the process. Now get off my door."
The salesman rolls his eyes and raises his hands to his shoulders. "Okay, okay, ya got me. I'll give ya 22k for it. How's that sound?"
I'm really starting get irritated at this point. I just wanted some oil filters, this guy is still leaning against my car, and I'm noticing his belt doesn't look exactly baby soft. "How about if I break you nose? How does THAT sound? Get OFF my door."
The salesman's grin fades at this remark and he finally walks away from my door. I glance at the door panel to see if it's scratched, saw that it wasn't, and opened the door to store my bag of filters on the back seat. I sit down in the driver's seat. I look up as I'm reattaching my Escort X50 to find El-Sleazo kneeling down in front of my car's grill, his BARE HANDS on the hood. I've about had enough the guy, so I start the motor and blare the horn at the same time. The guy jumps backwards, stumbles, and smacks against the showroom's pane glass window.
The salesman is furious. His face is beet red, and everyone in the showroom is staring at us. "Why'd ya do THAT, kid!?"
Again, with kid. "Because you smeared your greasy hands all over my hood. I just came here to buy some oil filters, not be harassed by you."
The salesman was obviously embarrassed. He got that cheese-eating grin on his face again, but there was something wrong. It looked more like a vicious sneer. His eyes were brighter now. His chest was heaving in and out. His nostrils were flaring. His voice dripped with sarcasm. "Hey, ya got a bug smear on your fender here." He planted his shoe on my fender and SCRAPED it down.
That was it. I snapped. I cut my motor and took the key out as I leapt out of the car. Before the little bastard could react, I grabbed him by his cream polo, heaved him off his feet and slammed him into the showroom's glass window. I held him up by his neck, his feet kicking at my shins weakly, his hand blindly slapping at my arms. He was making little crawing noises in his throat. "You see me," I whispered, holding my car key half an inch from his left eye. "You see my face, you little rat-eyed piece of garbage? Because if you ever touch my car again, I'll be the LAST thing you ever see, you sleazy bastard." Then I let him crumple to the ground. He stared up at me, his face wounded, his eyes full of impotent rage. "Get up then, if you want more." He didn't get up.
As I walked back to my car a very fat and equally sleazy looking man burst out of the showroom and lumbered over to my car.
"Hey! Hey, you can't... you can't DOOOO that!!" he yelled.
I ignored him and got in my car. I started it up and left.
When I got home, I felt kind of bad. Especially when I inspected the fender he tried to scrape and saw that there wasn't a scratch on it (or bug smear), even though he scraped his shoe on it pretty darn hard. What do you guys think? Was I nuts?
DISCLAIMER: Everything written in this post is a work of fiction. Any resemblance to any events or to any persons living or dead (or with sore throats and red faces) is coincidental.
7/21/05, 08:33 AM
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Originally posted by John SCB@July 21, 2005, 1:13 AM
A great story but I was dissappointed to see it was only fiction...or was it? :scratch:
A great story but I was dissappointed to see it was only fiction...or was it? :scratch:
A witness to you physically assaulting a person, and threatening to gouge their eye out..........?????? Me thinks not, but nice read though
