I LEFT A MESSAGE FOR KIP JENNINGS on my way to Riverside Honda. I pulled into the dealership a little after three, settled in behind my desk, and fired up the computer. Following my routine of the last few weeks, I checked the website for any tips about Sydney, and, finding none, checked my work voice mail. There were three calls from people wondering how much they could get for their used cars. I made a note of their numbers so that I could call them back.
The hell of it was, I still had to make a living. I had bills to pay, not the least of which was a round-trip to Seattle.
Andy Hertz had his head down at his desk, writing down some numbers on a yellow pad. “Hey,” I said to him. It wasn’t like him to be antisocial.
“Hey,” he said, glancing up. “Welcome back.”
“Anything going on?” I asked.
“Not much.”
“Sell any cars?”
“It’s been kind of slow,” Andy said. “This idea of yours, to call up people selling their used cars, that hasn’t worked worth a shit.” Then, remembering, “You find Sydney?”
“No,” I said.
I got back behind my desk, unable to think about anything but my daughter. But I’d been able to go through the motions before when she was the only thing on my mind, so I got to it. I dug out my book of recent leads—people who’d taken test drives, asked for brochures, made low offers, and walked away. I took a breath and started dialing numbers.
I didn’t leave messages when no one picked up. The chances that anyone would return a car salesman’s call were about the same as a Prius winning the Indy 500. You had to talk to people directly.
A rich stockbroker from Stamford told me he was still mulling over whether to get the Honda S2000 he’d been in salivating over a few weeks ago. I put him in the “call back” list. An elderly couple from Derby had changed their minds about getting a car now that the husband had been diagnosed with cataracts.
And then I’d come to Lorna and Dell. The couple who’d looked at just about every car on the market and couldn’t reach a decision. They’d come close to driving me mad with their indecision, but some sales you just had to work harder for than others.
I glanced at the clock, saw that it was after four, and took a chance Lorna might be home from her teaching job.
She picked up. “Hello?”
“Hello, Lorna,” slipping into my car salesman voice, which is not far off from my regular voice, except that it sounds as though I’ve just had some cough syrup. “Tim Blake from Riverside Honda.”
“Oh, how are you today?”
“I’m just great, how about yourself?”
“We’re terrific. We’re loving the car.”
I almost asked her to repeat herself, but calm prevailed. “That’s just great,” I said. “I’ve been off a few days, you know. Just what did you end up getting?”
“We bought a Pilot. We spent all this time looking at sedans, and then we thought, maybe we could use a little more room. Are you feeling better?”
Evidently I had been ill. “Yes, much better,” I said. “I trust you were well looked after in my absence.”
“Oh, yes. We came in looking for you, and that nice boy Andy helped us out.”
“That’s great,” I said. “Be sure to drop by and say hello when you’re in for service.”
I hung up.
How it’s supposed to work is this: If a customer you’ve been working with for some time finally decides to buy, and he shows up on your day off to make the deal, the salesperson who helps him splits the commission with you. That is, if he’s not a scumbucket.
I poked my head around the divider and said to Andy, “Hey, you want to go grab a coffee and get some air?”
Andy looked up nervously. “Now?”
“Sure,” I said. “I could use a coffee before I start making any more calls.”
We walked over to the communal coffeepot, poured ourselves each a cup, then walked around to the back of the dealership where there was shade from some tall oaks on a neighboring property.
“Nice day,” Andy said.
“Oh yeah,” I said, taking a sip of the hot coffee.
“Laura’s sure been on the warpath,” he said. “Leaning on everyone to get their numbers up. But sometimes, you know, things are just slow. What are you gonna do, right?”
“Sure,” I said. “It happens.”
“Yeah,” he said, like we were two buddies, just shootin’ the shit.
“So, you gonna tell me?” I asked.
“Hmm?” said Andy.
“You going to tell me about the Pilot you sold to Lorna and Dell?”
Andy coughed up a nervous laugh. “Oh yeah, I was going to.”
“Were you?” I said. “You seemed to have forgotten about it when I asked you how things had gone the last few days.”
“It just kind of slipped my mind, that’s all. Don’t worry, I’ll split that commission down the middle with you.”