So I hop into a Chrysler dealership to look at a new vehicle... I figure it`s time to start shopping the market so I did what anyone would do... I went to see what new and exciting vehicles were available...
I pull up and park near the rear of the facility. This jackass with a fake smile and collared coffee stained shirt RUNS over to me as I get out of my car as though I was a 6 pack of milwaukee tossed into an AA meeting... He doesn`t say hello, he doesn`t say "Hi how may I help you today? No. That would be too fucking normal for this shitstain on human evolution...
Instead he runs over to a car I simply glanced at and rambles out "Oh look at that one! She`s a beauty ain`t she! A/C, power windows and you`d look GREAT in red!"... I`d look great in red!? You don`t even know my fucking name and all of a sudden you`re Sylvia Brown determining my true colours?! "I`m sorry where are my manners! I`m Jeff". Well Jeff, the next time I want to buy a 1992 fucking Neon with half the damn bumper missing, I know where to come...
Honestly, I`m getting out of a 2003 Chevy and I want the only fucking car in the parking lot with roadside damage and over a decades worth of winter rust... Are you fucking stupid!? No Jeff, I want a car that doesn`t look like something you might use as cover from enemy fire in Bosnia. What else have you got?
Well, what are you looking for? Now isn`t that sort of a stupid question? Obviously I`m looking for a vehicle and obviously I might be interested in something that says Chrysler on the back... I went a little easy on him. "I want a vehicle that looks nice and has a good amount of power. "I have JUST the car for you!"...
So he leaves me standing in the parking lot while he putters around inside allowing people to examine why he`s even employed in the first place, and finally returns to me about 10-15 minutes later. At that point I`ve stopped to look at a nice new Mustang GT that caught my eye while I was waiting for him to finish jacking off in the mens washroom. He runs out all frazzled with keys in his hand and all out of breath and shreaks out as though he had just discovered human intercourse for the first time... "Come with me! I have the perfect car!"
Pissed off and running out of time I oblige and follow this undiagnosed brain cancer victim to the showroom. We enter and I see this tiny two seater little car, called the CROSSFIRE! Now, not that I`m opposed to paying $60,000.00 for an automobile, it will be a fucking deep freeze in HELL before I ever pay that for a Chrysler. "See! Looks nice and has a ton of power!"... Then I drop THE BOMB! But, I want a 4 door... Stunned, as though I had just told him he was adopted from an abortion clinic in Little Rock Arkansas, he stares at me...
After a moment of uncomfortable silence his eyes snap open like a native on welfare wednesday... He leads me to this Chrysler 300! Yes that`s a nice car! He opens the door and slides in ready to finally UNLEASH his technical knowledge that he`d been reading over his diet coke and babylon 5 reruns... This is the navigation system. It has direct navigation, audio interface, information system, blah blah blah. I don`t CARE about your fucking navigation system Jordi! Yes and please continue to talk to the fucking steering wheel, maybe it will buy the car from you! It certainly will pay your rent on Queen and Jarvis squeegee boy!
So after the synopsis on the transmission ratios and gross vehicle weight rating, I was asked, "so, would you like to look at some numbers?"... Yes! If they involve a street address for your apartment and a hitman I`d be more than happy to pay whatever the going rate is to show you my satisfaction in your fine work you fucking dickbag! While your at it, get me some fucking popcorn so that I can watch you annoy future customers in your "recently reno`d" 1970`s decorated warehouse...
So I won`t be buying a Chrysler...
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