I Got An Opportunity To Sell Porsches And I Turned It Down, Here’s Why
Once again,
sorry for going on a “mini-vacation” with posting, but we’re back and that’s
the important thing.
For today, I
have an extended story on how I was
in the process of getting a job with one of my favorite automakers and why I ended
up not taking it. Now some of you may know that I turned down a position with Infiniti a while ago for a host of
reason. As a quick refresher, here’s why I turned down the specific job with
Infiniti:
- Tier commission plan
- 50-hour work weeks
- Crappy pay plans
- Sleazy coworkers
- The idea that I could lose money
These few important
factors influenced my decision to walk away from a job that I was apparently lucky
to get. I went about my own way, graduated from college and landed a couple of
side gigs, but I was still looking for a full-time job with cars. As I was avoiding
working from home, I managed to stumble upon a job opening for a salesman at my
local Porsche dealership.
I of course freaked
out with joy. I mean, a job with Porsche. This is what automotive dreams are
made of, right? I put in an application and a moving cover letter where I
outlined my deep love for Porsches. In all honesty, I wasn’t expecting a
response. Porsche is one of the finest automakers for all time. They produce
some of the world’s most capable supercars, so there’s no way that they’d let a
dribbling graduate like me near the vehicles.
I waited for a
very long time. Then I waited some more. After three months of waiting, and to
my surprise, I received a phone call from the manager. Since it was from an
unknown number, I didn’t pick up, which made him leave a message. The message
was concise and clear. It outlined the job I was applying for, who I should
contact, etc. It took me a little bit to fully comprehend that Porsche wanted me
to interview for a job. The first sign of something bad came when I returned
his call.
A Porsche dealership
close to Washington, D.C. must do well, so well in fact that the manager didn’t
remember me when I called. When I called, it took him a little while to
remember who I was and why I was returning his call. It sounded like he was
just looking on a list of people’s name and miraculously found me. Either way,
the phone call lasted a little longer then it should’ve and we set a date to
come in.
I was pretty excited
for my interview to say the least. I set out my favorite suit and even tied my
tie the night before. One lesson that I learned in college was to be on time
and dress to impress, so I did just that, which resulted in my arriving to the
dealership 15 minutes before my scheduled interview.
Upon arriving at
the dealership, I was greeted by a group of friendly women at the welcome desk
and was told to fill out a paper resume. Being helped by three women seemed like
a good thing at the moment, until I realized that two of them were undergoing
training.
No, they’re definitely pushy.
Before going in
for my interview, I extensively researched the dealership. Reviews said that
they weren’t pushy and were extremely knowledgeable. However, when I was
filling out an application in the finance department, I overheard the closing
of a deal. There was a middle-aged man who was in the final steps of getting
into a base Cayman. It seemed like they were haggling over a price for a while,
but had finally managed to get to $60,000 even. The buyer had already told them
that there was no way he would be taking a vehicle home today. So what does the
salesman do? He tells the buyer to hold on for a second, while he gets the
manager!
The manager
arrives in a couple of seconds, introduces himself and then asks what he can do
to close the deal. The buyer once again states that he won’t be leaving the
dealership with the car and that he needs to speak with his wife. Unsurprisingly,
this unsettles the manager. Instead of stating, okay, well we’ll be here after
you speak with your wife, the manager asks some extremely personal questions.
The manager
tells the buyer that he’s getting an amazing deal and that it won’t be waiting
for him to come back. The manager also tells the buyer to get his wife on the
phone immediately, because the buyer would be crazy to walk away from a deal
like this. Kudos to the buyer, because he stayed calm and stated that he would
talk to his wife and walked out. As the buyer was getting into his Honda S2000,
the manager sprinted out and tried to make a last minute deal, which didn’t
work out. The reviews had to be bullshit,
because they were some of the pushiest salesman I’ve ever seen.
I was filling
out my application throughout this ordeal and managed to complete it in 15
minutes. Not bad for putting all of your life’s work into one page. After filling
out the application, I gave my life’s work to the one, actual receptionist and waited.
I waited and waited and waited. I waited
for another 45 minutes.
I repeatedly
asked the receptionist if a manager was available and she just continually said
that one was on their way. So I paced the entire dealership for 45 whole
minutes. Waiting for a manager or someone to notice me for 45 minutes.
Understandably,
after an hour of waiting, I was getting upset. So I told the receptionist that
I would be leaving in a few minutes if I did not get to talk to a manager. Just
as I finished muttering under my breath, a manager showed up. Sweet joy.
After waiting
for an extremely long time, I met with a manager that was different then the
person I was scheduled to meet. Apparently, the manager I was supposed to meet
wasn’t coming in that day and the other managers were on their lunch break. Why
a manager would tell me to come in when he’s specifically out of the office is
still a mystery to me.
So why do you want to sell Porsches?
We found a table
and sat down. The conversation lasted a lingering two minutes. The manager
couldn’t wrap his head around why someone with my writing experience,
journalism degree and love for cars wanted
to sell Porsches. I just wanted to scream, “because you well-dressed
butthead I get to stare at supercars and talk to Porsche enthusiasts all day.”
After telling
the manager that I was a true enthusiast and loved working with cars, he nodded
his head and continued to scrutinize my resume. After that, he walked me over
to a 2015 Porsche Turbo S Cabriolet and told me to get to know the vehicle. I giddily
obliged and we set a time for me to come in the next day. To meet with another manager,
of course.
I went home and
studied the Turbo S. I learned the interesting aspects of the vehicle like how
the wheels were shaped in a fan fashion to feed air to the brakes and how the
lug nut is one large piece that has a special pattern that can only be removed
with a special tool. Cool stuff, right?
I headed into
the dealership 15 minutes before my interview and patiently waited at a table,
hoping that it wouldn’t be another disastrous day. The manger, who—ironically
enough—was the person I was supposed to meet with on the first day, was on time
and took me upstairs to where the managers’ offices were.
This manager was
much younger than the first one I had met with. He had massive bags under his
eyes and was overweight, which are two signs of a workaholic. We sat down in absolutely gorgeous, $6,000 Porsche seats and got straight
to the point. He asked me why, with my specific background, would I ever want
to sell Porsches—just like the other manager.
I told him the
same sob story that I told the first manager and he didn’t really buy it. He put
me through some grueling salesman tests and pretty much made sure that I was
really interested in the job. We then walked downstairs where he tested my
knowledge on the Turbo S. I walked the manager around the vehicle and, in my
best salesman impersonation, attempted to sell him the vehicle.
He appeared to
be more preoccupied with a child that was attempting to come into the dealership
to sell cookies. After my sales pitch was done, he told me that I needed to
work on keeping the customer engaged, but said I did a good job. We headed back
to his office and I had to take an impromptu test on how to respond to
customers over an email.
He quickly jotted down a scenario where a woman wanted to trade her vehicle in and I had to respond to three different questions. He told me to answer the questions and stated that he’d be back. So, I was left alone for 30 minutes filling out the questions. It took me 10 whole minutes to complete the questions and then I patiently waited for the other 20. For a Porsche dealership there’s one recurring theme: they continuously left me waiting for a long time.
He quickly jotted down a scenario where a woman wanted to trade her vehicle in and I had to respond to three different questions. He told me to answer the questions and stated that he’d be back. So, I was left alone for 30 minutes filling out the questions. It took me 10 whole minutes to complete the questions and then I patiently waited for the other 20. For a Porsche dealership there’s one recurring theme: they continuously left me waiting for a long time.
The overweight
manager returned, spent five seconds going over my answers and asked me how I was
with criticism. As a writer, boyfriend and opinionated person, I deal with
criticism on a regular basis. So I told him that. “Good,” he stated with a weird
smirk. He, once again, left and told me that another manager would come talk to
me.
Aren’t those the comfiest seats ever?
So, again, I
waited and waited and waited. I waited for an hour for the other manager to
show up and by the time he did, I had already completed my first day on the
job. As far as awkward first meetings go, this was the worst. Before even
saying hello or sorry I took so long, the manager asked me if I liked the $6,000 Porsche chair I was sitting in. I
said it was very nice, but too pricey for me. “But it’s the nicest chair you’ve
ever sat in right?” he asked.
Again, I
replied, “yes, it’s very nice, but it’s way too expensive.” The manager seemed
upset that I wasn’t interested in purchasing the extremely comfortable and ridiculously
priced accessory. He quickly changed the subject and asked me why I was so interested
in selling Porsches. For the third time in two days, I had tell my whole life
story of how I love cars and how I want to work with enthusiasts to get people
into their dream vehicles.
This aggressive,
candid manager did not care about my story and was not into any of it. He asked
me the same question again and I gave him the same answer. This made the
manager quite upset, which turned the rest of our time together sour.
We did another
test together where he told me to sell his Porsche pen, which I knew nothing
about. As a car enthusiast, I thought I did pretty well for something I knew
nothing about. But I could see that I lacked the major item that made salesman
good at their job: the ability to sell something
people don’t need.
After my pen
speech, the manager went into a diatribe about how salesmen at his dealership
sell drivers looking for a blue car a
red one. We got into a slight
argument about why getting somebody a black
car when the want a white car is
ethically wrong and why some drivers need time to go home and deliberate a large
purchase.
The manager pointed
out two things that should never happen at the dealership: customers leaving and customers
buying something they’re actually looking for. I mean seriously, what kind
of stupid customers come in, spend $100,000 on a car, and not get the color
they want? True idiots.
It was late, I
was hungry and I had spent an insane amount of time in the dealership. After
listening to the idiotic manager drone on about his ability to sell any
Porsches to anybody, we parted ways with another awkward and failed attempt to
sell me on the $6,000 Porsche chair.
I again was
commanded to wait for the previous manager to talk to me about payment. I
waited for another 45 minutes for the overweight manager to trod in and when he
did, I received another barrage of questions as to why and where my heart was with
the job.
To help pay your bills, you get paid
$7.25 per hour.
After hearing
the ridiculous payment method, I knew that I wouldn’t be accepting the position.
For the first month, salesmen are not allowed to get commission, so payment is $7.25 per hour. After getting your
sales license, you make 20-percent on
the profit made on every vehicle. On the profit
of every vehicle. When’s the last time you went to a dealership without doing
your homework? Exactly! Never, it’s never happened. No one goes into a dealership
without seeing what invoice is and websites have always aimed to get drivers below
invoice.
I wasn’t able to
see what their vehicles were priced at, so I wasn’t able to get an idea on
whether their salesman actually sold any vehicles for a substantial amount over
the invoice price. But that wasn’t the end of that. For every car you sell, you
have to pay the dealership back a fee
for housing the vehicle and for the prestige notion of them hiring you. For
every new Porsche you sold, you had to pay $1,000
back to the dealership and $800 back
for every used car sold.
I mean that’s absolutely
insane. Oh, and you have to work 80
hours a week. There’s no time off for the first year and to pay your bills,
you get paid $7.25 per hour, which you give back at the end of the month with
your commission.
So to recap:
- First entire month: $7.25 an hour
- After that, 20-percent commission on price above invoice/profit
- You get paid $7.25 per hour, which you have to pay back every month
- You have to pay the dealership $1,000 for a new car you sell and $800 for a used car you sell
Yeah, I don’t
understand how salesmen make any money. What’s even more interesting is that
Simply Hired gives Porsche salesman an average salary of $68,000. After seeing that figure, you’re probably thinking, “wow,
that’s really good.” But don’t forget that I was told that my work week would 80
hours long, which equates out to roughly $17
an hour! That’s right, if you’re an average salesman working everyday,
you’ll be making that much every hour—if you’re lucky.
After hearing
payment options and my hellish hours, I quickly turned down the position. For
such a “prestigious” opportunity, the manager seemed quite upset to hear that I
was no longer interested in the position. To be honest, I was bummed out too. But
there’s no way in hell I’m working 80 hours a week to sell blue Porsches to enthusiasts that want red ones.
On the way home,
I kept going over the numbers in my head. Something just didn’t add up. How can
people survive with this kind of job? Not only that, but how do they sleep at
night knowing they are working for a deranged manager that not only takes pride
in getting drivers into Porsches that are the wrong color, but expects his salesmen
to do the same.
Porsche. They
make some of the best sports cars and supercars in the world. They’re the
vehicles that people dream of. They create cars that people of all ages put up
on their walls to drool over with there mouths agape. I’ve always wanted a
Porsche and still do, but I’ll never buy one from this dealership—ever.
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