Selling is hard

Caroline and I are shopping for a camper. Whether it's a camper, a car, a house, or whatever, interacting with all the different salespersons has been interesting. Here are the bullet point lowlights:

First, there was the new guy. He was a nice fellow from Arkansas, he just moved here a few months ago and was brand new. I'm pretty sure that dealer ought to have paid me as his trainer. He was very appreciative of me showing him the features of the various units he showed us. He even said he might like to buy one of them for himself. He still has an outside shot, but isn't the clubhouse leader.

One guy, the retired Navy Chief, after seeing we are looking for a smaller travel trailer decided showing us a big one and told Caroline that was the one I'd buy for her if I wasn't being so cheap. We didn't buy a camper from him.

Another guy, 75 years old if he was a day, and likely only there because he needs something to do and likes to talk to people, after taking our info and speaking to me in his little cubicle for 5 minutes to gather my preferences and see what he could match up up with on the lot, led me out toward the door. Caroline and I followed, and our friends Dale and Dianne went outside with us. He realized we wouldn't fit on his golf cart and said we could start walking, which we did. Not a big deal, I understand, too many for the cart. But as he got outside, some other customer said hello to him. Half an hour later, he was still with them and never came out to see us at all. We didn't buy a camper from him, either.

One more brand new guy to meet with today. Selling is hard. It's harder when you're an asshole.