Is It Chauvinism or Laziness?

This evening Shay and I took a little drive over to the Mercedes dealership in Cary. Russ was bringing his Smart Car in for service and I was picking him up. True to form, I was early. So I parked my Ford C-Max and got out with Shay on a leash and walked around all the lots holding many, many unsold Mercedes.

The show room was still open as it said on the door, Sales until 8pm. I could see no less than half a dozen men in logo polo shirts, some sitting inside the showroom and a few walking around the lot. I looked at the stickers on sedans, SUV’s, station wagons and sport cars. I peered inside blacked out back windows to see how much legroom there was. I practically kicked the tires on all the cars. I was the only non-employee on the whole lot and the only woman.

As I was deciding between light tan or dark tan leather interior I looked at my watch and made a mental note about how wrong I was looking. I stood back from a row of varying sized SUV’s and studied how many different models there were. I looked at my watch again. I waited. I looked at the men sitting in the all glass box of a show room. I stared their way. I even raised my hand.

I looked at my watch again. Fifteen minutes. I had been walking around looking at cars a whole fifteen minutes and not one man spoke to me, looked at me or even thought that I might want to buy a car. You would have thought they were overwhelmed with customers and work. Didn’t appear that way.

Russ drove his car into service and filled out the form and dropped his keys in the box. Service closed two hours before sales. Ha, sales was closed as far as I could tell. I walked back to my car to pick Russ up. Only then did I cross paths with one of the men in a Mercedes logo polo. He spoke to me. All he said was, “Cute dog.”

What a foolish group of men. They had no idea if I could write a check for any of those cars. I made no contact with Russ, they didn’t know I was there for him. Was it chauvinism or laziness? Doesn’t matter, it was just stupidity.



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