Somehow Suckered...

What a fucking Daymare!!

For those of you who don't know- a Daymare is an nightmare that happens when you are awake.

Obvious right?

Anyway- it goes like this.

Last week my Hubby and I decided that instead of getting the rust repaired in order to get our car past rego that we would instead Look for another car, organise the finance for a top-up on our current loan, trade-in our busted up fourby and drive away with a semi-new (late-model)family sedan. We had two weeks of rego left and a good credit rating with our existing lender.

Sounds simple, yeah?

Sunday morning at eleven o'clock we hit the (first of many- or so we thought)car-yard. Nigel the Trainee saunters over with his "How are you today guys" smarm and shakes our hands warmly like long-lost friends while ignoring our comment that we are Just Here To Look Thanks. Within seconds he asks what model of car we're after and how much we can afford to repay per week and efficiently ushers us over to a car that is more than double the budget we had agreed to spend- I mean, I'm unemployed and Hubby's wage only goes so far, but we tell him it's way beyond our means and he lets the issue drop. For a brief sec.

The next thing I knew (and hey, I was hungover) I was being ushered over to a burgundy Commodore- with a price tag of about fifteen grand. Kilometres good. Decent condition. Rear spoiler and mags. We looked half-interested. He got us a key. Fifteen minutes later we returned from a test-drive and walked up to the office- where we were then abandoned for a good fifteen minutes- while Mythical Emma unnecessarily began the process of finding out via the finance company if we would qualify for a loan at all.

But I'm getting ahead of myself...

The day before (Friday) we had rang the same finance company that we had used to get our last car. They basically pre-approved us over the phone- told us to go out and find a car and have them fax the details to them so we could see if the loan was 'secure' -as we don't really have a lot of assets I guess they needed to know if the car was a reliable buy or something...

Fast fwd to yesterday again...

Nigel the Trainee is filling in our details on a Contract of Sale-in preparation for Mythical Emma to fax to the Finance company. He said he needed signatures in order to fast-track our credit-rating approval; something about needing signatures to assist in our application. Or Something like that. They also wanted to arrange the finance instead of our current company(though we had been pre-approved and didn't need Them to do it for us)- I guess they must get some sort of commission from the finance company they deal with. Nigel reads out some Stuff; but is far more interested in finding out what my Hubby and I do for fun. He tells us he's into going to his local RSL with his mates, trying to make chit-chat while he ever-so-slowly fills in my details.

Then he realises he needs to do it in black pen, not blue, and screws the paper up. Starts again. Painfully slow. Making Nigel-speak. Mythical Emma drifts past the door a few times, feigning busyness. We've been there almost an hour and am barely listening as I sign the contract, noting the Waiver as being one business day to withdraw from the contract- but to do so would incur a 2 percent penalty on the cost of the car; payable to the dealership. We are still waiting for ythical Emma to confirm if the finance company are willing to give us credit and if so how much the repayments per week will be, and what interest rate will be charged.

"Keep 'em waiting and they'll sign".

That must be the Salesperson's Mantra.

After I have signed the contract it is whisked away to Mythical Emma and a sales rep who has decided upon the trade-in value of my beloved Toyota. The contract returns finally, filled in with magical numbers that we had requested but now with my signature firmly attached- fundamentally at least agreed upon. Decided. Final. We've been suckered somehow into spending more than we wanted to but are happy with the car- at least for now.

Hubby goes to the pub. Comes home. Tells me that Everybody he has talked to has agreed that we have been charged about four thousand dollars too much for that make/model of Commodore. One of Fudge Boy's friends has a car-yard- he rings us and tells us he has a similar one in his yard for far less. A quick visit to Stickybeak.com proves what everyone has been telling us- that we have agreed to buy a car that is way over-priced.

I remember the Waiver...

First thing Monday morning- still well-within the 'one business day' rule I call the car yard and tell them I wish to waive the contract I have signed as we found out that we can purchase a similar car for much cheaper than what we had agreed upon the previous day. I am told that I have to have it put in writing that I no longer wish to continue with this contract and I agree to come down later in the morning. We visit Fudge Boy's mate's car-yard and choose an eight thousand dollar Commodore. Great kilometres. One owner and log-books. Immaculate. We tell him we'll be back. We've been there all of five minutes...

Back to the first car-yard to terminate the contract. No-one rushes over. I tell Someone that I'm there to 'cool off' and am directed to wait for Ben Somebody. Nigel the Trainee is nowhere in sight. Fifteen minutes pass. The only clock on the wall was a poster boasting that their dealership sells a car Every Twenty-Two Minutes!! I notice a few of the reps kicking rubbish around the Lot, no-one seems interested with meeting us Today. Another salesman fobs us off- telling us that Mythical Emma will be with us a few minutes. She doesn't show; in fact up to this Present Second I have still not spoken a word to her face-to-face.

I'm losing the plot here...and I'm only half done with this saga.

Tune in tomorrow, same Bat-time, same Bat-channel- and I'll finish it.

For anyone who's interested???