They Hired Me & An Ousted Miss USA
Another uncomfortable series of events in my life. But, hey--it's writing material.
“Diary of an Accidental Car Saleswoman” is a story I’m working on for my second book, a collection of nonfictional short stories, “How to Stay Broke and Influence Nobody.”
"Michele, you don't have a future in...," is something I've been told after being pulled to the side more than a few times during the plethora of crappy jobs I've taken. It’s hard to be too crushed unless I had dreams of my future in retail, aerobics, or car sales... all of which I detested. But now I have plenty of stories to write about.
See, there are no crappy experiences—only material for stories or lessons.
Until today, I’d forgotten this one job moment.
What provoked it? This morning I saw a question on Facebook: "Where's the weirdest place you've ever listened to music?”
Immediately, my brain tossed me back into that San Fernando Valley car dealership showroom, crammed in a Jaguar sports car with my co-workers, as the Star Wars theme boomed, and a former Miss USA, who’d recently been ousted from the pagaent by Donald Trump, yelled into my ear…
Wait, I’ll back up:
In 2010, the recession was not helping our new recording console design business, Tree Audio. Bills and stress grew. So I decided to find additional income. I was willing to do almost anything. Ian, my husband, heard a San Fernando Valley auto dealership was hiring car salespeople. I applied—positive they wouldn't hire me.
I was wrong.
Now, the only things I ever sold were A&W burger meals and root beer floats when I was fifteen. But the dealership big-wigs didn’t care if I had sales experience. They liked my attitude. Attitude was all I had.
Since I like eating and living in a home, I took the job and began working in the car dealership's Premier showroom, selling Jaguars.
My former military sergeant manager, who ran me around the multi-acre car lots barking orders in my face, "Find a Jaguar XF with the blah blah rims," had me and about five other employees crowded into a Jaguar XF sports car. He wanted us to hear the car’s amazing sound system, so we could inform our customers.
There I was in the hot, steamy car, pressed shoulder to shoulder with co-workers, feeling claustrophobic. The Jaguar manager demanded we appreciate the quality of sound as The Star Wars theme boomed from the Jaguar's speakers.
Former Miss USA, Tara Conner, elbowed me, "Isn't this great? Can you imagine a more fun place to work?!" she yelled into my ear over the booming music.
I could, actually...my own business, Tree Audio.
What a bizarre dream this would be... if it didn't happen.
At 1:50, Tara Conner mentions selling cars.
But I did sell cars along with an ousted Miss USA. Tara, too, had a great attitude. Far better than mine, since I quit after a short time. I would never have known about her problems. She was a supportive co-worker, often giving me sales advice. Plus, she was my cohort in chaos. Okay, not chaos—but once we did get a little rowdy. Tara and I were a few of the only women among the dozens of car salespeople. During a meeting, a male sales manager used a clip from the movie “300,” comparing our sales team to Spartan soldiers (I’m not kidding)–who were left to die on a mountaintop if found inept. A screen came down, revealing buffed, shirtless men in Gladiator skirts. So Tara and I wolf-called and hooted. “Whooo hooo! Yeowwww!,” until we were reprimanded by the red-faced manager.
If Tara elbowed me at that moment, “Isn’t this fun?” I would have agreed. But mostly it was not fun.
During my few months selling cars, I’d wake up thinking I just had a nightmare—I didn’t sell cars. It was only a bad dream.
But I did. And, man, did I have some horrifying experiences: speeders, stalkers, tweakers… well, one drug-agitated guy who asked me, “How did you get this job? Sleep with your boss?” before jumping out of the still-moving car, as I drove the car back onto the lot after a test drive. I didn’t even get a chance to laugh in his face. “As if I’d sleep with someone to SELL CARS… are you on drugs?” I wanted to say. But his jumping out of the moving car answered that question.
Another nightmare happened on a test drive with a married couple dressed in matching khaki pants and carrying clipboards. I call this part of my car sales tale, “So This is Premier Service, Huh?” The husband said this many times, while his beige-haired wife shook her head and tsk’d, during our chaotic test drive.
Have you ever seen Albert Brooks’s movie about the afterlife, “Defending Your Life”? I can imagine this khaki-clipboard-carrying-couple on the board of my life judgment, shaking their heads and tsk’ing. “You call that a life, huh?”
This couple didn’t get me.
I appreciate the humor of weird, awkward, and uncomfortable experiences—not that I always enjoy them at the moment. But as time passes I can usually find the humor. I say that as the wife of a man who almost died of a stroke in 2020. Those initial years were truly horrific. Yet, in the aftermath, we’ve learned to find laughs in some ugly moments. It’s how we cope.
Maybe my life review judges will give me some points for that.
After I wrote, “Craving Normal,” someone gave me a one-star review on Amazon, and said, “…the author threw her father under the bus.” Well, I disagree. My father, while talented and adventurous, was a difficult person. Not only did I adopt my coping skills in childhood (find the humor or be miserable; I chose the former), but I turned many of those less-than-joyful experiences into stories I do enjoy—and I hope readers do, too.
Thank you for reading!
1) Where's the weirdest place you've ever listened to music?”
2) Care to share any odd moments at work?
3) How do you cope with stressful experiences?
Here’s the dealership I worked at was Galpin Motors in the San Fernando Valley.