3 for me

Thirty seven minutes into the hideous ordeal and there was still no sign of our salesman. ‘Just wait there mate... he’ll be here soon.’ Sometime later and carrying a questionable understanding of the term ‘soon’ our man turned up. Standard sales man get up, nothing new here, but this guy was different... there was something strange, something new about him. Ah yes, it was his gargantuan incompetence. Over the phone was fine, more than helpful. ‘has it got any tax.. yes sir. Has it got an m.o.t... Of course sir... Where are you located...’ So when we left the show room, with the car now safely in our possession, you can imagine we were more than a little disgruntled to have been miss informed quite so fluently. There was no m.o.t. the tax was short and on top of that, they had sent us to the wrong branch.
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But what’s this! Surely not. Half way through our manic ordeal, in walk two smiling well wishers who promptly hand over a bottle of champagne and flowers, along with hugs and eccentric waves... Was this some kind of set up? A well rehearsed plan to gain our trust? Could anyone by so terrible at their job they sort to employ actors to impress customers and force sales. A truly bizarre twist. Extraordinary.
I find myself though, fascinated by the psyche of the common car shopper. Before I even got to the forecourt I knew I had to have that car, the little back mk3 8v gti id seen in the pictures. Even when our salesman turned out to be the most useless man in the world I wasn’t put off. It was that good. Shiny black paint. No sun roof model with an 80 thousand mile workstation. It was perfect... the realisation of weeks spent online seeking out the perfect car. The one. A quick call to Martin at H.I.C [08451 291 291 ] saw a bright light at the end of the tunnel. An unbeatable quote to give a sweeter taste to the tale.
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So what’s next. Well, in a further twist to the tale it transpires that I will be sharing the new car, Dr Gonzo, with my loving mother. Something to do with shared costs and an puzzling economic climate. I fear though, that I am in no position to argue. Soon to be coming out the back end of a long and arduous seven year course drawing buildings and sipping beer, she’s had to put up with a lot. It can’t hurt her using the car once a week for the shopping run, can it? I guess we will see after I get that first phone call to attend a strange speed bump aerobic. ‘er James, its stuck.’