So yesterday, this happened:
I know, right?! I bought an entire car all by myself! How grown-up is that?!
I had a lot of help deciding to ditch the jeepy jeepy – sometimes it takes a village to raise Katie, as I’ve been saying all week – and when I started doing my research, I noticed that because of pretty, pretty Presidents’ Day, a new 2015 RAV4 was just $2,000 than a 2011 used RAV4 with 30,000 miles (although the used car may have had more features. Meh meh meh).
So yesterday, after fighting to move a vacation day (for Pete’s sake), I showed up at the dealership having done a bunch of prep work. I had cleaned the jeep out of all worldly possessions (and not a few socks. Which, what the heck, Bee?!), I had found the title to my jeep (within five minutes of looking for it, despite not seeing it since 2010 – the most grown-uppish I’ve felt all month), and printed out the divorce decree because the Ex was still listed on the title, even though the decree gave us our own cars. Or, I should say, I meant to print out the divorce decree. But it’s all good.
So I show up at my appointment, walk in, and the sales kid who latched on to me didn’t seem to understand that I had already set up a sales appointment. He had no idea who the guy was that my appointment was with, and then took for-ev-er to look up my appointment. I had a bad feeling, but then the kid mentioned that he was new to the area (and therefore the job), and I realized he just had no idea what he was doing. Of course, it didn’t help that he assumed I was in for a bitty sedan, just because I’m a woman who looks young (and is therefore broke?). I withered him with my death-ray glare, don’t worry.
Once I finally got checked in with my (grumpy) sales guy, things went much better. He was good about explaining all of the price points, and didn’t seem like he was going to try anything. I had mentioned a few times that this car was a want, not a need (did I fail to mention ALL THE THINGS wrong with my jeep? Hunh.), and that I wasn’t too sure it was what I wanted to do. We test drove the RAV4 I had selected, just to make sure everything was how I wanted it. Then we got down to haggling – on my part any way. I explained the price point I needed to be at with monthly payments, after a considerable down payment. Things got dicey for a moment, and I stood up to go, and suddenly a manager was in there, offering me $3,000 more for my trade-in, after I’d already talked the sales guy down $2,000 for the RAV4. Suddenly I was magically at my price point. So I sat back down.
Notice how everything had gone nice and smooth? Here’s where everything started going more like they usually do when I’m around…
Sales Guy handed me off to Finance Guy. Finance Guy was really nice (and really hott), and we got going on all the paperwork, chatting away about different things. We got to the bit with the title, and he asked if I had a copy of the Ex’s release for the car, and I was all, “No, but I….was supposed to bring in the divorce decree.” But I knew I had a copy in my email, so I was scrolling through my phone while Hott Finance Guy started asking about my divorce – because it so happens that he’s going through one. So we sort of launched into a 20 minute therapy session, me giving him advice and listening to all his feelings, but it was okay. Because it turns out I was going to need all of these bonus points.
So we get everything squared away and all we have left is for me to give him all my monies for the down payment. Hott Finance Guy maybe mentions something about me writing a check for xx amount and I was all, “Wait, what? A check?” WHO WRITES CHECKS, DEAR READERS?! Turns out that the dealership can’t take credit card or debit card payments. Or electronic transfers. But! Because Hott Finance Guy was so enamored with me at this point, he convinces his boss to let me do an electronic transfer. So I call my bank. After I finally get ahold of a live human, she tells me the bank can’t do a transfer like that over the phone. I need to do it online. So I, on my tiny little smart phone, have to set up mobile banking, then enter all the information for a transfer and twenty minutes later…they can only transfer $1,000. That was not even close to what I needed.
I explained the problem to Hott Finance Guy. “Just go get a bank check,” he told me. I said I’d be happy to – only what car was I supposed to use, since my Jeepy Jeepy had been surrendered already. And that was how grumpy Sales Guy ended up riding along as collateral in my new car to go to the bank five minutes up the street.
I ran into the bank, was next in line, and explained to the teller that I was having a weird day and what I needed. She laughed when I told her the sales guy was out in the car and started drawing up the check. And then we hit another bump. Because OF COURSE! Let’s throw some more bumps in there! BUMPS FOR EVERYONE! The teller asked if I ever wrote checks against that account. No, I told her – that’s why I was in this predicament. Otherwise I could run home and get a check. Turns out I didn’t have anything on file with my signature on it in the files. They couldn’t issue the bank check without verifying my signature against something. This is when I started to laugh. I handed over my license and my (signed!) bank card. I begged. I reminded her that the sales guy was out in the car. She called a manager over (named Bee – we bonded), who quizzed me down about my last deposit, what bills I regularly pay, how much was in my other account… and then they decided to believe I was me. I got my check. And was on my way.
And that is the story of how I finally ended up with my beautiful new car. But I couldn’t very well leave well enough alone, could I? Oh no.
When I went to get the girls, we walked out of After Care and started walking to where I always, always park the jeepy jeepy. Once we got close, I was all, “Wait – where’s our car? Did it get stolen?!” The girls looked worriedly around. They were all, “Oh my god, Mom!” And after a minute or two of fun, I clicked the unlock button on our pretty, pretty new car and was all “I guess we’ll just have to take this new one!” They laughed and screamed and clambered in and told me over and over how I had really got them. Bonus points to my girlies for being filled with admiration at my superior prank-pulling rather than mad at me for scaring them. I am delight to live with, you guys.
And that really was the end, other than showing off the car for all the neighbors last night, and then sitting in my new car in the garage, trying to figure out what all the buttons mean. Perhaps, if I study hard, I might become one with my new car by the time it’s time for another one.