At the car dealership: fighting back

After Jason Feifer bought a car, he felt taken advantage of. He decided to get even, and found revenge is a dish best served at a Honda dealership.

Associated Press, August 1, 2006

The salesman came back with a lousy number, but I considered it. After all, we were negotiating for the Honda Civic Hybrid -- a car so highly desired, he said, that the price simply can't go lower. It was a line I had heard before, but I was pleasant. I was understanding.

And then, I was answering my cell phone at a time I arranged with a friend, who asked me how it was going.

"Oh," I said, "they're trying to rip me off."

The salesman clutched his chest and rocked back dramatically in his chair, as if cartoon stars were floating around his head. It was a shot to the heart, but I shared his pain: That's how I felt when I actually bought the car a few weeks before. This time, though, I wasn't there to buy a car. I was there for vengeance.

During my real car-buying experience, I offered my dignity as a trade-in. Car salesmen are known for dirty tricks, and they marched out the circus for me: the waiting, the baiting, the game with no rules. By the time we were done, I felt powerless.

I kept having daydreams where I'd walk out on the deal or make the salesman scramble for a better price -- the kind of tough-guy tactics I didn't have the courage to employ.

I paid in pride and I wanted a refund.

I couldn't go back and re-negotiate. So I did the next best thing: I went to dealership after dealership, negotiating for the same car, each time with a different gimmick aimed at giving me control over the salesman. I wanted to find out what it takes to beat the salesmen -- and I was going to do it on their turf.

Just before the 2006 models rolled out last year, that's what happened. There were five Massachusetts dealerships, four gimmicks, a few confused salesmen and one very satisfied customer.

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ROUND ONE: MR. POKER PLAYER

"People feel out of control because very often they don't know the numbers, they don't know what's coming next, they don't know how the questions the salesmen's asking fit into the grand scheme of things," said Philip Reed, senior consumer advice editor for the automotive Web site Edmunds.com.

Many people, he said, are just like I was: uncomfortable negotiating and afraid of playing rough. But to really succeed, he said, the transaction needs to be unemotional. Like a game.

So at one dealership I went to, poker was the game of choice. I wore sunglasses the entire time and refused to make small talk, playing my cards like a cocky high roller. When the salesman asked where I work, I said it's a secret. When he told me the Civic Hybrids practically sell themselves, I said, "So, can I negotiate with the car?"

"Sure, talk to it," he said.

The poker act kept us focused on the numbers, and negotiations were quick. His final offer was $20,247 -- $53 less than I actually bought it for. I know, it's just $53 -- but if I weren't wearing my sunglasses, he'd have seen my eyes bug out like Large Marge in "Pee-wee's Big Adventure."

This was my first trophy. I wanted to cut off his head and hang it on my wall, like a hunter proud of his kill. But instead, like any cocky poker player would, I decided to show him my cards instead. I thanked him, walked out into the parking lot, got into my Civic Hybrid and drove away.

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ROUND TWO: MR. NICE GUY

There isn't much wiggle room when negotiating for hybrids, because they really are high-demand cars. The invoice price for the 2005 Honda Civic -- which I bought last summer -- was about $19,700. Most sticker prices were set at about $21,500. The sticker for the 2006 is slightly higher, at about $21,850, according to HybridCars.com.

But that didn't mean salesmen didn't haggle. At one dealership, I tried killing the salesman with kindness. There were lots of smiles and friendly chatter, and I felt good knowing that I could schmooze outwardly while privately scheming.

Not surprisingly, that deal was a bust: $20,700 was the lowest offer. I tried a variation on the friendly chatter a few days later, when I had prearranged the phone call from my friend. When I announced that I was getting ripped off, the price dropped somewhat, to $20,475. Still, hardly a bargain.

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ROUND THREE: ROUND UP THE TROOPS

Buying cars is like going to war, so one time I brought my own troops: three buddies I asked to simultaneously hammer away at the salesman.

Even Reed from Edmunds liked this plan, because he said salesmen routinely gang up on customers. After we were done, I figured, our salesman would be so helpless that he'd sell us a cheap car, give us his personal car and maybe throw in his wife for good measure.

So the four of us marched triumphantly into a Honda dealership -- and sulked out 20 minutes later. Salesmen avoided us, and one said there were no hybrids on the lot anyway.

But then we spotted a Toyota dealership next door. This time, I didn't know the cars or their prices, and there was no way to hide it.

We went in and announced I want to buy a Camry. Ten minutes later, as we crowded around a tiny desk and prepared to negotiate, our salesman said, "It's clear you like the Camry." Sure I did. I couldn't even recognize it.

When we stared negotiating, I felt the same nervousness I did when I actually bought my car. My friends were lifelines, but my Toyota ignorance made it just as terrifying. The salesman was in complete control, and soon my guys stopped addressing him and began questioning me instead.

"Are you sure you want to buy this car?" one said. "Maybe you should really look around."

Was the salesman this good? Had he turned my friends against me?

I began to panic. I didn't know what this car was worth and I didn't know what the salesman would sell it for, so we sat there yammering for an emotionally draining hour. The salesman and I played chicken while my friends kept up their discouragement.

Every 10 minutes, he lowered the price.

When we reached an impasse, I got up and said my friends were right: I wasn't ready to buy. The salesman quickly made an offer that was well below invoice -- a true, unbelievable deal. I turned it down.

As we walked out, one of my friends whispered, "That was amazing."

It was. I hadn't realized it until we got outside, but my friends hadn't turned against me at all. Instead, they discovered that talking me out of the deal was more effective than talking the salesman into it.

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LESSONS LEARNED

All customers are anxious and doubtful, but a salesman can usually overcome that. Here, the salesman had to contend with three people who constantly told the consumer to walk away. It baffled him. He didn't know what to do. And so, he did the only thing he could: He made an unbeatable offer.

Within the web of lies I spun, I found a small nugget of truth.

I called up my original salesman. When customers come to him, he said, he negotiates hard to win their business but protect the dealership's profits. To him, it's a mutual understanding.

Perhaps this is where we are now: Both sides come in expecting the other one to be controlling and deceptive. If one isn't, it gets pushed over.

At the end of our conversation, the salesman apologized. He's been selling cars for a long time, he said, and he believes he gives people a fair deal. "Sometimes it's hard for us to convince someone of that, you know what I mean?" he said.

I know.