Mild Weather

It was December 7, a time when the mountains of central New Mexico are often blanketed in white. But on this balmy Monday afternoon, the crags stood bare against the azure.....when the phone rang.

I made it into the main drainage below and to the left of the dike. (Click on image to largen)

It was Stephen, a young Toyota salesman I'd talked to a couple of weeks earlier. We'd been engrossed  (or, at least I was) in a side-by-side comparison of a two-door Yaris and a Prius when an older salesman came over. Noting his three-day growth -- the contemporary version of the '70s gold chain -- I tried to ignore him, but when he asked what I was looking for I said a 4-door. We, Stephen and I, then watched, instantly fascinated, as he reared back on his haunches and with the vehemence of a fundamentalist preacher whose first "sinner" is blubbering toward the stage said, "You don't need a 4-door!!" So, I left.

In the 20 minutes prior to my departure Stephen'd disclosed he'd come from a Walmartz electronics department. And in the two months since he'd started he'd sold nine cars. I wasn't surprised, his low-key demeanor and easy-going helpfulness was refreshing. It would have been easy to close the deal. A couple of days later I'd made up my mind, called and asked him to call me if he found a 4-door. 

So, after he identified himself, I,  of course, expected to hear he'd found Eggbert's replacement. But it turns out part of his training includes calling people to see if maybe they've changed their minds about what they want...or something.  After explaining I'd been to college where they teach rational thinking (I got a C) and hadn't changed my mind (in two weeks) about what I wanted -- -- he admitted they make him call people.

I wish I needed a Ph.D.; it'd make a great anthro dissertation: A Longitudinal Study of Lost Sales Due to the Negative Effects of Phone Followup.