The young woman who sold cars

Most adults over the age of 24 have probably purchased a vehicle, possibly a brand new one even. Maybe you've been enjoying your car 6 months and can't wait for your 12 month lease to end. Maybe you are the sort of person who only buys a car every 15 years or so. Regardless of how often you change cars, I'll bet you've heard every stereotype ever plastered onto the people who sell cars.

I sold cars. I did it for 2 and a half years, from age 25 until I was almost 28. I am a woman. You may have seen me on the lot. You may have thrown out some of those stereotypes, thinking they are funny. They aren't. Most of them are not even true anymore. Yes, yes, yes, I get it. All stereotypes originate somewhere, and were once possibly connected with reality. The key word here is "once."

Like nearly every other major sector of business, auto sales has changed tremendously over the years. 25 years ago, you would never have found me on the sales floor, unless I was the bikini-clad woman draped over the Porsche in the showroom. 25 years ago, consumers in nearly every major sector were generally uneducated. It is the nature of the educated to take advantage of the uneducated. It is the nature of the unregulated to take advantage of chaos, and bend it to their will. But get over it, all that stereotypical bullshit ceased years ago. Yes, yes, I get this too -- there are still shoddy dealerships out there. Fantastic. There are poor examples of any type of business in existence. The cockroaches everyone commonly refers to as inhabiting dealerships have retired to Florida's golf courses now and were replaced with actual intelligent, capable human beings.

I was one of them. I am the young woman whose boobs you stared at while I told you, eloquently, about the relevant details of the paperwork you signed. I am the young woman whose knowledge you challenged with stupid questions about the car, and you were thrown because I answered them all correctly. I am the young woman who, patiently, did not laugh when you couldn't drive the manual transmission. I am the young woman whom you accused of making up a fake invoice. (By the way, that's inane nonsense, I actually do have scruples -- and better things to do with my time.) I am the young woman with whom you argued with over the value of your high-miles, beat-up car...or maybe it was your low-miles, pristine car -- and I still don't care what Kelley Blue Book said, you car isn't worth that much. (If you can get Kelley Blue Book to buy your car for the amount they say it's worth, please tell me, I'd like to sell them my car too. Otherwise, shut up and get real.) I am the young woman whom you didn't take seriously, because I am young and a woman. I am the young woman who was pleasant to you, while you were an asshole. I am the young woman who listened to you complain about the unprofessional service, and provided you with a high level of professional service and knowledge. Most of all, I am the woman who made $100 from selling you your brand new car (yep, that's really it, there's no reason to lie).

And that's why I don't sell cars anymore. If I were the whore-scum-of-the-earth you pretend me to be, I'd make more money selling cars. However, I'm an honest, intelligent woman who won't take bullshit from people. I won't degrade myself for the sale. I won't degrade myself for you. So, the next time you go to buy a car, remember that intelligent people do work in the dealership, but not for long -- they're driven out by consumers who continue to insist that old stereotypes still rule dealerships. If you, as a consumer, want that to change, then begin by changing yourself.