Why I Support Zombies

My first day in the car business was confusing, to say the least. I didn’t have a clue what the Operating Partner of a new car dealership was supposed to do in spite of the fact that I was one. I felt better after meeting my thirty something employees, because it was clear to me that they didn’t know either.

With the introductions out of the way, I left my followers to decide what they thought about me and my chances of making it as the Operating Partner, and went on to what seemed to be the logical next step-checking out my new car inventory. The inventory was valued at over one million dollars, wholesale, and every dollar of it was financed at 2 points over prime, which was almost 20% the day I walked into the dealership.

I had thirty days from the day a car was delivered to sell it. If I failed to do that, the floor plan interest charges began. I saw months where my total floor plan interest charges exceeded $30,000.00. That’s $30,000.00 before I began to think about salaries, insurance, rent, utilities, etc., etc…. That’s why knowing the inventory seemed to be the logical second step for my first day.

I was about half through the inventory and just beginning to believe that maybe I could move the merchandise, when I rounded a corner and saw a vehicle transport unloading cars on the street that ran behind the dealership. I stopped in my tracks when I saw the car that was coming down the ramp. It was a new, bright purple, Chrysler Cordoba, sparkling in the glaring mid-day sunlight.  The color was a shock, so were the wide white wall tires and wire wheels.

John Denza, the old salesman who was escorting me on my check of the inventory, read my reaction, and chuckled. “You ain’t seen nothing. It’s a special order, and the guy it was built for was killed in barroom brawl a couple of weeks ago.”

“John, what do you mean, I ain’t seen nothing,” I managed to say.

He stopped, looked in my now bloodless face, and said, “It has white leather interior, three speed manual transmission, and no air conditioning.” Then he waited in vain for me to say something.

I was speechless. He finally figured that out, and said, “You don’t have to worry though; there is an ass for every seat.”

That wasn’t a statement I’d ever heard before but I quickly figured out what it meant and just as quickly decided this car just might be an exception to the rule.

I had the four cars that had just been delivered, washed and lined up out front. I put the purple Cordoba on the corner so it would get the most exposure. In the back of mind, I wanted to prove to Denza there wasn’t an ass for that seat.

My second day on the job, the dealership sold two used cars and, yep, one new car-the purple Chrysler with stick shift and no air conditioning. And, we sold it at sticker price, to a man who was more excited about that car than any customer I ever sold a car to in the three years I was in the business.

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I’m a writer. Usually my books are classified as adventure, though my last one, Maddog and Miss Kitty, is generally considered a romance. I write character driven novels. By that, I mean, I introduce the characters, give them a problem, and sit back and let them do their thing.

I don’t write about zombies, or dragons, or vampires, or shift changers. I love eroticism in my marriage, not my books. Young adults are wonderful, but I don’t write their books; it’s just not mine to do.

I’m a writer and I know what that entails.

 

  • My primary job is writing.
  • My secondary job is marketing what I write.
  • My third job is to support all writers, regardless of their genre, or characters of choice.

 

That’s why I support zombies…. and dragons, and vampires, and every other form of humanity or creature whose stories can be shared in books, by the authors who know them. You see, a long, time ago, an old salesman taught me there is a reader for every book.

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