In 1998, I had to buy a car.
My work had moved offices from downtown Calgary to out-past-the-airport Calgary, and there was no bus service out there. As a matter of fact, to this day there is still no bus service out there. Since I had no way to get to work, it was time to buy a car.
I had other reasons to want a car too – I was in a long distance relationship with some dumb guy, and was taking the bus to Edmonton every other weekend to see him. The trips were expensive; at least $80 a round trip plus cab fare from the bus depot to my apartment in Calgary. While I was only supposed to go up every other weekend or so, I was the one who did most of the travel in the relationship.
On (most of) the off weekends, he would drive down to see me. It was during those trips that I would take advantage of his car and do groceries and visit Ikea and check out all those parts of Calgary that are inaccessible to people with an irrational loathing of public transportation. The fact that I was now unable to get to work without a two-hour bus ride sealed the deal – I needed a car.
I did a bit of research, but I knew what I wanted. I had driven an ex-boyfriend’s Metro for a while, and knew that the cars were reliable, inexpensive, and great on gas. I planned out exactly how much I could spend and what features I wanted, and started the hunt for my very first car.
I was pretty firm in my choice. I wanted a brand new Chevy Metro, in any colour except red, and it had to be standard. I wasn’t about to pay extra for the privilege of having a gutless car – the standard came with an extra .3L in the engine. Those were the things I wanted. I had people trying to sell me Pontiacs, telling me it was an excellent idea to go into debt so’s I could buy a Volkswagen, and that sedans were totally awesome. All these people were stupid and wrong.
It was at one dealership in particular that made me almost give up on car shopping and all of humanity in general. Ed was with me for this trip, but knew that this was my thing and I had to be the one to do all the talking. It makes sense – this was to be my car, wholly and completely. I had my laundry list of things I would not budge on – had to be a Metro, had to be standard, did not want red – and I knew what the car should cost. All I needed was for someone to sell it to me, and everything would be super.
Enter Slickster Sam. Slickster Sam did not want to talk to me. He wanted to deal with Ed. He wouldn’t even talk AT me; he would ask Ed some questions, I would answer them, then he would continue to try to discuss things with Ed. This did not go over very well with me, but it was the only dealership in town that had any Metros in stock and I didn’t have much choice. Eventually Ed told him flat out that I was the purchaser, not him, and maybe he should talk to me. I was able to tell Slickster Sam exactly what I wanted – new Metro, standard, any colour except red and I wasn’t too crazy about white, either. Slickster Sam took all this in, nodded, and said:
“Well, we have a great little Metro on the lot, it’s the only one in town and it’s exactly what you’re looking for: a red, automatic Metro!”
Slickster Sam tried very hard to first of all convince me that Ed should do all the talking, then that I maybe wanted some sort of Pontiac sedan, then finally caved in to my demands and offered to sell me the exact opposite of what I was looking for. Slickster Sam was a jackass. Slickster Sam did not make any sales to me that day, or ever. I eventually bought exactly what I wanted from a very lovely gentleman in Red Deer who took great care of me, and I was delighted with my Metro until it was time to sell her to someone else.
The point to this story: Slickster Sam has been reincarnated as every single recruiter or headhunter in this town. I have a laundry list of things I am looking for in my new job, and I am getting phone calls in droves for things that are the EXACT OPPOSITE of what I’ve repeatedly said I want to do. I’m flexible – you kind of have to be – but come on. At some point lines must be drawn heeah and I have to put my deformed foot down and remind myself that I will not settle, something awesome will come along, and just because one person told me my skills were crap with too little focus in any one area and too many job changes (5 since 1997) doesn’t mean I’ll never get something great.
Argh.
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