Scribe

Great news. You may recall the article that I’d been working on some little while ago for The Editor. Well after a lot of work it’s finally been accepted for publication and is going to be a six page spread in the magazine. Very exciting!

Not only that, we’re already discussing my next assignment!

It’s still very early days on the writing front and I’m far from counting any chickens, but this feels like a little progress at last and I’m desperate to get stuck into another article to try and keep the momentum going. The way I figure it, it’s potentially much easier to further a writing career as a published writer, rather than just an aspiring writer. If I can get a few decent articles published I may just be able to refer to myself as the former, which I hope will help.

I’m not sure yet when the article is set to be published, but I can’t wait to see it in print!

So far, so good.

As Christmas approaches and life slows a little in the car sales world I come to you in a contemplative mood tonight. We’re still shifting metal but the joys of Christmas preparations are clearly taking their time and toll on potential punters and we’re finding a little slack in the day, which is rather nice actually. Time to slow down and take stock.

So where are we at? Or more specifically, where am I at?

Well I seem to be finding my groove, slotting in. The thick fog of admin is starting to become a little clearer, not gone completely but more of a light mist with fog patches these days. I can muddle through most of it with little intervention. The computerised customer handling/car ordering/deposit taking/finance arranging/order form creating computer system called Kerridge is still proving a complete mystery however. Bits of it I can cope with, some of it I’m positively adroit at, but stringing it all together? No.

The journalism side of things rumbles on at it’s inexorably slow rate, but I did finally get to do that review, complete with photographer and engineer so who knows, if The Editor likes what I throw together it could yet prove to be a catalyst for future options. We shall see.

That Saab convertible sadly never came in so I missed out there. Funnily enough I spotted an identical one on the motorway today, could even have been the same one in fact, and it’s such a lovely looking car. But I’m a big believer in fate and I guess it wasn’t to be. Probably too soon to be thinking about such toys anyway so hey ho, onward and upward, maybe next year.

The Blonde is still very much in evidence, more so than ever in fact. It feels almost like a proper grown up relationship, a novelty for me but in a very good and positive way. She is of course more beautiful, wise, kind, supportive and warmhearted than ever. (Hello Al!) And she’s keeping the Polite Hatchback clean despite the filthy weather, bless her! We’re even spending Christmas together, awww…

Other than that, all pretty quiet on the Western Front. I’m not a winter person, I prefer to hibernate and wait for spring. Actually I’d prefer to jet out to Sandy Lane or Necker Island for the winter months, but I may have to find something just a tad more rewarding than car sales before I’m able to make that a reality.

But as we drift quietly toward Christmas I have to report that after what can best be described as an “interesting” year the vibe generally is good. Whilst not quite the dream ticket, life at Ford is proving comfortable and financially supportive, and good place to hide and ride out the financial turbulence that I fear hasn’t buffeted it’s last yet, and I think if nothing else it will prove a good move for the future.

I’m sure next year will be the start of fresh challenges and adventures and a blog full of rants, raves, and raconteurs, but for the moment I’m feeling mellow, settled, happy and generally at peace with the world.

So it just remains for me to thank you for all your support and good wishes this year, it really has been and still is genuinely appreciated.

And wish you all a very happy Christmas.

Lead us not into…

It wasn’t even our dealership. Another company within the group had a customer local to us who was interested in a new car, and they were sending one up for him to see and so that they could have a look at his. Nothing for us to do except introduce them to one another and leave them to it.

I thought no more of it until a low sleek Saab 93 Aero Cabriolet swept onto the forecourt just after the new car had arrived.

Now everyone has their predilections. Some people like art, others are into fine dining or malt whiskies or horse racing or expensive watches (ahem) or foot worship. Hey, whatever floats your boat.

But I like, and I mean really like open top cars. And for strange and unexplained reasons perhaps linked to some bizarre childhood experience involving Swedish furniture I’ve always had a soft spot for Saab Convertibles.

This one was a classic looking 2002 car with only 48,000 miles. Silver with a blue soft top, full leather, air conditioning and the essential heated seats, I could hear it calling me softly from the other side of the plate glass showroom window.

I tried to put it out of my mind, I’ve only been with the company eight weeks, far too early to be spending money on expensive and unnecessary toys. (Yes alright Al, far too early to be spending money on any more expensive and unnecessary toys).

I made a quick call to the sales manager of the other dealership, was it coming in part exchange, any idea how much? Maybe, and not too mad a price.

Half an hour later I watched it glide quietly back out. I can’t, I mustn’t, I shan’t, I won’t.

Probably.

Just like Oscar Wilde, I can resist everything except temptation…

Contestant ready!?

Remember Gladiators? Brilliant series screened in the early ’90s and more recently re-created on Sky although I understand without the same level of success. For those that haven’t seen it, it was an adversarial game show where members of the public went up against The Gladiators in various battles such as trying to swing via ropes from one platform to another whilst the gladiator tried to intercept and then bring them down. At the end of the show their score was transposed into a head start time in a race against a Gladiator around an indoor assault course, finishing with the dreaded Travelator, which was basically an inclined treadmill like a down escalator without steps which they had to run up. This took real determination as it was running at some speed and they had to outpace it to the top, whilst of course being chased (or chasing) a Gladiator.

Well the last six weeks has felt a little like that Travelator as I’ve raced like mad to try and learn the many and manifold procedures and systems without tripping and falling, sliding straight back down to the bottom again. And in truth that I don’t feel like I’m off it yet, but as things start to come together I’m able to run a little less hard and still feel like I’m making progress.

I’ve also managed a few days off for a mini-break with The Blonde. And boy, did I need them. A couple of nights away at a very lovely hotel by the coast was just what was needed to recharge the batteries, fall back and re-group. I didn’t realise just how very tired I was till I stopped (I think even The Blonde was surprised) but I felt absolutely drained. Fortunately the weather was perfect, strong winds and persistent rain curbed even The Blondes penchant for walking miles and miles, substituting instead a session in the wonderful spa facilities where the welcoming embrace of a heated pool and a wonderful jacuzzi helped sooth shattered mind.

We came home refreshed and renewed and I returned to the metaphorical treadmill reinvigorated.

In truth, car sales isn ‘t that hard. The challenge has been learning a completely new job whilst being thrown in at the deep end to just get on with it, which can be a stressful approach. In particular there seems to be no instructional process, it’s simply a case of muddling through and relying on colleagues for help and guidance which has, I fear, been frustrating for all at times.

So how’s it going? Well, I’m shifting a few cars, both new and used. And I think that once I get properly up to speed it’ll be ok. Whether I see myself doing it for another twenty years is another matter, but for the moment it’s a job and it’s an income and right now that’s paramount.

What I do need to try and do however is up the pressure on the writing side of things. And with that in mind I’ve been in touch with The Editor again to push on with the big test review I’m supposed to be writing. Like everything it’s proving not to be without it’s challenges. But that’s life and yet again we muddle through.

Muddling through, it seems to be the watchword for the moment…

The last rites.

British Racing Green is an evocative colour for an MG convertible. Add black leather to the mix and it’s a smart little fun roadster. The MGF in question had both, and although getting on a bit (it was a T plate so 1999) the mileage was low and condition more than fair. It was the owners pride and joy, she loved that car but needed something more practical and the deal was too good to refuse so it went in p/x against a brand new Fiesta.

I watched the new owners pick the little MG up, lowering the hood before gleefully roaring off up the road to the crisp blare of the mid mounted 1.8 litre engine. I hope they enjoyed that cars run to it’s new home, it’d be its last. They were scrap dealers, the car yet another victim of Gordon Browns innovative scrappage scheme. A “book” p/x price of about £900 for the MG made it a no brainer.

Now don’t get me wrong, we’ve seen some terrible old clunkers go through the system, their appointment at the jaws of the crusher long overdue. But there’s some awful waste going on around it, that MGF just one example of a perfectly good perfectly serviceable motor car being killed in the name of being “green” in the non British Racing sense.

Trouble is, no one’s yet managed to convince me quite how crushing perfectly good cars and replacing them with brand new ones that might use a bit less fuel, but come with all the inherent ecological cost involved with building and delivering a car (remember many of these come by ship from far flung corners of the globe) might be an ecologically good thing. Let’s be honest, it isn’t is it? The green thing to do would be to keep old cars on the road as long as practically possible, not throw them away after ten years and build new ones in their place.

The only real beneficiaries of the scheme are the motor traders, who get a sales boost by being able (with Government “help”) to sell cars to certain people for £2,000 less, and those customers able to benefit. So why not extend the scheme to anyone? Simply offer £2,000 off to anyone who wants to buy a new car. Because if you did that you wouldn’t be creating the forced demand that killing thousands of perfectly serviceable cars creates. Forget the green credentials of this scheme then, it’s a pure money making scheme for the dealers and for the Government.

Money making for the Government? Aren’t they the ones funding the scheme? Well yes. And yet, no. Scrap your perfectly serviceable MGF for the most basic Ford Fiesta for example, and you’ll get a £2,000 scrappage allowance off the circa £11K price tag making it £9K on the road. Now the manufacturer has to fund half of that discount, the government the other half, so Gordon’s only in for a £1,000. And immediately the car is sold they instantly recoup over £1,000 in VAT! Make it a £22K Mondeo and the government is still in for a grand, but with well over two coming straight back! Not daft are they?

So is it a good scheme? By and large yes it is. It doesn’t really cost the government (hence us) anything. The dealers are down a grand on each sale but happy with the increased business. And plenty of happy buyers are sporting about in brand new motors with far more discount than they’d ever have achieved normally.

But as I watched that poor old MG disappear on it’s final journey, paintwork glistening, roof down and exhaust growling, off to join the ranks of perfectly decent cars being destroyed for no real benefit to anyone, I couldn’t help thinking that something somewhere just wasn’t quite right…

Gran Turismo

The lights turn green and I floor it down the empty dual carriageway ahead of me. It’s been a while since I’ve driven anything truly quick I mused as the car lunges off the line to a healthy bark from the engine behind me. German engineering is quite special, and this was a special car, I’d been itching to have a go in it ever since it quietly appeared in part exchange one day.

As the turbo kicks in and the growl turns swiftly from an angry snarl through a lusty roar to a banzai howl I reach forward and nudge the sequential shift semi automatic forward. A brief pause as second gear engages and another jolt of power flings the car forward, engine back in the meat of the turbo boost zone.

Moments later the engine crescendos toward the rev limiter and I dial in third, the rear tyres bite again. I find myself grinning inanely as, barely abated, the eager engine powers its way through third before the speed limit and my necessity for a driving licence see me backing off, clicking into fifth and easing the speed back down.

20 minutes later I’m on the drive at Blonde Towers showing it off to an amused Blonde.

It’s still been a while since I’ve driven anything truly quick, but just for a second there as I clipped 45mph down that dual carriageway the little Smart felt like it was doing 150 at least. An epic car and one that makes me grin every time I drive it (and when I park it sideways on my drive). I’ve managed to commandeer it for three days so far, time to think of another good excuse for the sales manager, see if I can stretch it out to a week.

If ever you get the chance to drive one, do. They really are great fun!

All going on.

The thing with modern small cars is that no one wants to compromise anymore. Expectations have shifted and the role of the small car as utilitarian urban transport is gone, these days a small car has to be so much more.

I reflected on this as I drove a mid range diesel Fiesta 150 miles to meet The Editor this week. He wanted to discuss the feature I was to write and view the subject of my review with me. It was a three hour journey on mainly fast roads and the Fiesta handled it with aplomb. Comfortable seats, check. Confident handling and compliant ride, check. Quiet cabin, check. Good stereo, check. Plenty of room. Check. The car handled the journey better than a Mondeo would have done ten years ago, and all on less than £25 of diesel for the round trip. Now that’s progress.

The meeting went well, culminating in a very pleasant lunch. Seems there may be work for me to do, certainly this review is mine to do, and it’s a biggie. If I can nail this one then it appears there’s more to come. Past experience means I’m not counting any chickens, but there’s certainly potential.

The journey home was in pouring rain but with much to think about and Steve Wright keeping me company on the Light Programme it flew by. I’ve got a bit of work to do before I can start on the article, but I’m already formulating and dismissing ideas. I really need to get this one right.

Back at the dealership a mild panic as the Laguna I sold turned out to need more parts than had been anticipated for its service and MOT. A call to the purchaser to see if I could delay him fell on deaf answerphone. It’s due out early tomorrow and as I left the garage tonight there was no sign of it. The service manager has promised it’ll be with me first thing, fingers crossed he’s as good as his word.

It never rains, but it pours sometimes.

It’s a deal.

Youngish chap, late twenties maybe, jeans and a tee shirt, heads from his car to the forecourt circumnavigating the showroom on his way and heading straight for the five year old Laguna in the middle of the small sea of brightly coloured used metal that decorates our frontage. A slightly unusual one this, we mainly sell used Fords for obvious reasons, but apparently this one came in against a new car and was deemed good enough to retail rather than trade out as often happens with older foreign cars.

I give him a moment or two, the trick, I’m learning already, is not to pounce the moment they touch down, nor leave them long enough to get lonely. It’s clearly the Laguna he’s interested in (a fact buoyed up by the older tired looking Laguna he rolled up in) so I fetch the keys and amble on out after him.

“Afternoon” I greet him with a smile, “care for a look inside?” I plip the central locking and he swings open the drivers door and drops onto the drivers seat. I’m no expert but much of car sales is simple common sense. He’s looking at one car only, he already owns an older example, and he clearly knows what he’s looking at. A moment later we’ve got the bonnet popped, then the boot and our man is displaying what can best be described as reluctant interest. He asks me about service history and number of owners. Unsurprisingly I haven’t a clue so I explain I’m the new boy so don’t know, but will find out. We finish our tour of the vehicle and I invite him inside and go seek out the info required.

The answers are positive and we move on to a test drive. It would be the one right in the middle wouldn’t it? Has he got his driving licence? No, but he can get it he tells me, back in twenty minutes. Perfect, gives me time to dig it out. I get the keys I need and clear a path, stacking the other cars out of the way for the moment, no point putting them all back just yet.

Good as his word, chap is back twenty minutes later, with his dad this time for a second opinion. All positive buying signals. We do the paperwork, I photocopy his licence and it’s on with the trade plates and I’m in the back, bowling down the road, being driven with what’s best described as a a degree of alacrity.

Twenty minutes later we’re back on the forecourt intact and then back to my desk. He’s definitely keen this one, I can feel it. A few qualifying questions from me, does he want to part exchange? Is he in a position to proceed? How’s he planning to fund it? Then the big one from him, what’s the deal? Showtime.

I wheel out the big gun, the sales manager, after a quick brief in his office of the situ. Straight sale, no finance, chap wants it straight away, nice and easy. All we need to do is the usual service and MOT and we’re done. Back out to my desk, a quick conflab and a deal offered. Our man wants an extra hundred off. Can we do it? We can. Hands are shaken, smiles all round, and my colleague and mentor is drafted in to guide me through the mountain of inevitable procedure and paperwork. Twenty minutes later (and me non the wiser if I’m honest) we’ve got the man logged on the system, invoice created, deposit taken, delivery date agreed, smiles and handshakes around and the deal is done. Result!

I move the other cars back into position on the forecourt then move the laguna round to the side to join the small row of sold cars awaiting processing. With great satisfaction I unclip the numerals off of the price board and hang it back in the windscreen displaying the legend that resides beneath the numbers. “SOLD”.

Back inside and people seem pleased. Five days in and I’ve got my first one away, good work I’m told. My colleague tells me it was three weeks before he sold his first car.

All in all I felt pretty pleased with myself but it hadn’t been a particularly difficult sell. Chap knew what he wanted, I facilitated the deal and he bought it. A fluke maybe?

Don’t know, but the next day I sold two more…

Buried in paperwork

I drive off the forecourt in my brand spanking new company car, head still swimming. Three (official) days in and it’s paperwork, paperwork, paperwork. With no admin staff the sales guys get to do it all, ordering, invoicing, banking, organising work, organising PDI’s, tracking cars in the system, organising finance, organising insurance (necessary to tax the vehicle), organising the tax, organising the warranty, organising the delivery, organising organising organising. By the time each deal is done there’s a paperwork file half an inch thick. And that’s assuming it’s a straightforward deal. Add in the scrappage scheme or mobility, throw in a part exchange (or two!) or a personal plate, and double that file size.

I’m under the wing of Justin, a genuinely nice guy of about my age, and he’s talking me through the process of each stage of each deal he currently has running. And there are over twenty of them at differing stages. Technically he’s a car salesman. In reality he’s a master strategist.

For the first two days it’s just a blur, none of it makes any coherent sense, and I’m starting to wonder whether I’ve not bitten off more than I can chew here. Selling the cars doesn’t frighten me, it’ll take some getting used to but it’s within range. But the paperwork…

By day three I’m starting to recognise vague shapes in the dense fog of admin. Not enough to be clear, but at least the odd familiar landmark. Maybe there’s hope yet. Maybe.

Overall though I’m happy. My first impressions that it’s a friendly place and nice people to work with seem to be ringing true. It’s interesting and challenging, and I get to be around cars all day (the novelty of that will fade in time no doubt).

I also had the deep joy of hearing the Sales Manager take a call from a recruitment agency, telling them that the vacant position had now been filled so sorry, don’t require his services this time. “Yeah, filled by someone you couldn’t even be bothered to reply to” I think to myself, it was the agent that didn’t return my email. “Dipped out there didn’t you Sunshine?”

And the new company car’s pretty cool. A sporty Fiesta Zetec as promised, it’s a mid range five door with most of the important bells and whistles. I’ve got alloy wheels and remote locking, electric windows, MP3 connection, ambient “Submarine” lighting, trip computer and the all important air conditioning. And it drives brilliantly. Up on tiptoes where the Polite Hatchback drove four square on the ground it feels alive and eager, fun to punt along. Best of all of course, it’s free.

Not that I’ve driven it far. Work is ten minutes from home, fifteen if the traffic is heavy. The Blonde and I took it for a bit of a run the first night I had it, doubling the mileage to 40, other than that my short commute is as far as it’s gone.

All in all, life and work are good. As it happens I feel that I’ve landed on my feet with this job really, it’s the right environment for where I’m at personally right now and I hope things will continue to pan out as they are doing.

Just got to get my head around that paperwork…

Hi ho, hi ho…

Nearly five months after being made redundant I’m finally about to be back in the proverbial saddle. The new job starts Monday, but in agreement with the sales manager I’m starting tomorrow (Friday) morning unpaid and getting stuck in.

I’ve spent today getting everything totally up to date at home, and tonight in the company of a few cheeky vodkas and this blog, reading each and every post in order, charting my progress up to this point. It’s been quite a journey so far.

And now it’s time for bed. I’ve got work in the morning!