Neal Rubin

Poor sellers stifle car lust

Indifferent response to inquiry at 2 dealerships does industry a disservice

Hey, I told the salesman, a 2010 Buick LaCrosse just passed me on the Lodge. Does that mean you have them on the lot?

This was not my most prudent driving moment, but I loved the redesigned LaCrosse when I saw it at the auto show, and now a white one had turned up looking nearly as sharp as the black one did on a turntable. Still at highway speeds, I found the number for a Buick dealer in Southfield and dialed my phone.

It was early June. No, the salesman said, not yet. He said I'd probably seen a GM executive on a test drive.

If I'd been on the other end of that call, I'd like to think I'd have sensed a potential sale. I probably would have asked for a name and phone number, and promised to get in touch the instant a LaCrosse graced the premises. But nope; that was pretty much the end of our relationship.

Two weeks later, I walked into a Buick dealership in Farmington Hills. Same question. Worse response.

I asked about the LaCrosse. I asked whether there were any rebates on the Lucerne, the larger sedan. I asked about the details of the cash-for-clunkers bill meandering through Congress.

The salesman's answers were clipped. "I don't know any more than you do," he said of the legislation, but how could he tell how much that was?

I tried again, conversationally. Thinking the same financing might be offered on the Lucerne, I said I'd seen a newspaper ad offering no-interest loans on the Cadillac CTS.

"I don't sell Cadillacs," he said.

I'd come through his door. I'd asked questions about two vehicles. He didn't introduce himself, he didn't offer to show me a Lucerne, he didn't ask if I'd ever driven one. I've felt more welcome at politicians' arraignments. So I went up the road a few miles and drove a Mercury Milan.

I don't want to beat up on the dealerships. It's a hard business even when people have jobs, and if the sales managers knew which salesmen I'd talked to, I'm guessing heads would be rolling down the street like dislodged hubcaps.

But we've learned in these last months that we're all in the auto business, and we need it to work better. And I'm tired of asking myself the same question: In our alleged service economy, where the heck is the service?

In Ferndale, it turns out, and in Davison.

To sell, we need to talk

A few days later, I called Fresard Buick Pontiac GMC on Woodward. No LaCrosses until late July, said salesman John Imbs, but we'll have a few demos to test drive on Thursday.

He gave his name, he took mine. He was interested and involved. When I dialed him again, taking notes this time, I told him about the other two salesmen.

"I'm amazed," he said.

Imbs used to manage hotels and restaurants. Compared to that, he's working banker's hours. "The only time I don't ask for a name and number," he says, "is when someone calls and starts yelling at me."

He's kidding. He does that a lot, and well. "When people call a car dealer," he says, "at a minimum, they're not calling because they want a pair of shoes." They want information, and he figures if he supplies it correctly, everyone can wind up happy.

"No way can I do that," he points out, "without having a good way to get back to you, so we can have a conversation and figure it all out."

Finding encouragement

Looking for a wider perspective, I called the National Auto Dealers Association. It sent me to Jim Waldron, a regional director representing outstate dealers in Michigan.

He owns Jim Waldron Buick Pontiac GMC in Davison, and he also owns a helicopter. When he goes the extra mile, it might be vertical.

"It's complacency that sets in," he says of uninterested salespeople. "That's a dealer's worst nightmare," especially when no one mentions it. You can't fix what you don't know is broken.

Waldron, 54, once flew to Midland to pick up a part. He'll sometimes give a customer a lift home in his two-seat Robinson R22.His dealership ranks No. 1 nationally for customer satisfaction among GM brands, and he says if there's a complaint, the buck stops with him. "You'll see signs in my showroom: If you aren't completely satisfied, call me," he says. "And I don't screen my calls."

He says I should buy a LaCrosse. "Do something for yourself," he suggests, strongly. "Don't give up the lustful relationship with the automobile. Buy something you like and enjoy it."

I'm still torn. I might give in. I might take another look at the Milan. I might keep my old sedan.

I'm not sure I'm lustful. But now I'm encouraged, and glad to be that way.

nrubin@detnews.com (313) 222-1874