Last week, I had some time to spare between appointments and decided to visit a car dealer. It was a long overdue visit, as I had heard numerous stories from both buyers and sellers, and I wanted to experience it firsthand.
Based on what I had heard, particularly from buyers, I had a clear expectation of what awaited me at the dealership. I anticipated a lengthy qualification process involving questions about my name, email address, postcode, current car, budget, finance options, family, and annual mileage. My colleagues had warned me to expect an interrogation akin to that of MI5 before being granted the privilege of seeing a car.
In the early days of sales, we were taught the importance of listening, using our two ears and one mouth. However, I wondered how things might have changed. Brochures, once a staple of the car-buying experience, seemed to be taboo these days. It felt like acquiring a copy of the Codex Sinaiticus would be easier than getting a glossy car brochure. Nonetheless, I set myself the challenge of obtaining one.
Dressed smartly and driving a high-level sporty German saloon, I sought an "authentic" experience and chose a BMW dealership, with the newly launched 8 series as my target. As I entered the crowded car park, memories of my early days in car sales flooded back. I remembered the territory managers emphasizing the importance of custom signage and designated parking spaces, and I immediately realized the wisdom in their advice. However, finding a customer parking space proved to be a challenge.
After manoeuvring through a mini go-kart circuit surrounded by used car displays, I eventually squeezed into a designated customer parking slot, wedged tightly between a Transit van and a freshly delivered 5 series straight off the transporter. It was a tight fit, but I managed to exit the vehicle with my phone in one hand and keys in the other, and I confidently made my way towards the entrance, wondering how quickly the eager sales staff would pounce on me.
I must admit that I felt nervous—an uncommon sensation for me. Despite being unfazed by public speaking and confident in boardroom presentations, I found myself apprehensive. I took a deep breath and walked towards the receptionist's desk, unable to pass without exchanging greetings. I asked if I could explore the showroom, and the receptionist kindly granted me permission.
What followed surprised me. The 8 series was prominently displayed as the first car in the showroom, so I took the opportunity to conduct my own six-step walk around. I inspected the sides, bonnet, boot, and ventured inside, covering all the obligatory angles. Two sales executives were seated at a desk, seemingly oblivious to my presence, displaying Shakespearean skills of feigned ignorance. I pondered my next move.
Curiosity led me to peer inside the car, intrigued by how a vehicle the size of HMS Queen Elizabeth could fail to comfortably seat four people. I approached the sales desk and inquired if it was alright to sit inside the car. "Of course, help yourself," came the response. And so, I did.
The mock crystal gear selector caught my eye—it was a nice touch. However, the absence of traditional instruments left much to be desired. I imagined that with the battery life, the whole interior might resemble the bridge of the Enterprise. I sat inside, fiddled with the controls for a while, and then sat some more.
Eventually, realizing that there was only so much one could do in a show car, I decided to take charge of the situation. I stepped out of the vehicle, took one more walk around it, and approached the two sales executives at the desk. "Do you have a brochure for this car, please?" I asked. To my surprise, one of them replied: "Yes, there is one left in the display, I think," she replied. To my delight, she actually got up and checked with me. I was impressed by her effort. As it turned out, there was indeed just one brochure left, and I eagerly took it. It felt almost too easy.
With the trophy brochure in hand, I strolled out of the showroom and made my way back to my own car, which was notoriously difficult to find amidst the crowded parking lot. It took me a good five minutes to manoeuvre my way out of the tight parking spot, thanks to the arrival of a newly delivered car parked opposite.
So, what can I make of this experience? Did the sales staff view me as a waste of time? I fit the right age, build, and car ownership demographic that should have been their target. Perhaps they had already sold their allocation of the 8 series, although that seems unlikely. But if they did, good for them.
During my time selling cars many years ago, my colleagues and I would regularly sell and deliver over 30 cars each month. No one slipped through our grasp. Personally, I was known as the "follow-up king," never taking "no" for an answer unless I was abused or ignored during sales phone calls, which I diligently made between 6 and 7 pm. Yet, here I was, walking into a showroom, sitting in a £75k car for ten minutes, and being resoundingly ignored. There was no chance of receiving a follow-up call, let alone bothering my inbox. It was a bizarre experience indeed.
Did I learn anything from all of this? Well, I can confidently say that the 8 series is a stunning two-seater with enough room in the back for nothing more than tissue boxes. However, I won't let this deter me. It's only fair to give another BMW showroom from a different dealer group a try. Surely, sales processes haven't changed so drastically in the past 25 years? If they have, I would love to pit myself against these salespeople, even if only for a weekend!
How did you find your last showroom visit? How was the customer service? Will you look to buy a car online or in a showroom in the future? Food for thought!
