He didn’t like being corrected by someone he had already classified as a waste of time.
“Look,” he said, lowering his voice. “I’m trying to save both of us some time. If you tell me what your realistic budget is, I can point you toward something more appropriate.”
The older man closed the driver’s door gently.
“What do you mean by realistic?”
“You know what I mean.”
“I’d like to hear you say it.”
Tyler glanced toward the other salesmen.
One of them looked down quickly, pretending to check his phone.
Tyler gave another small laugh.
“Fine. This is a six-figure vehicle. Most people who come in dressed like they’ve been working in a barn aren’t here to buy one.”
Emma, at the reception desk, looked up sharply.
The older man did not move.
Tyler continued.
“We do get people who come in just to sit in the cars, take pictures, dream a little. It happens. Nothing wrong with that. But I’ve got actual appointments this morning.”
The old man’s face remained calm, but something in his eyes changed.
“I see.”
“So if you’re shopping seriously, I can show you a pre-owned model.”
“I didn’t ask about a pre-owned model.”
“Then what are you doing here?”
“I asked you the price.”
“And I answered.”
“After laughing.”
Tyler exhaled through his nose.
“Sir, you’re being sensitive.”
Emma stepped away from the reception desk.
“Tyler—”
He waved her off without looking.
“I’ve got it.”
The old man turned toward Emma.
“No. Let him finish.”
Tyler stared at him.
The showroom had become noticeably quieter.
A couple in their forties standing near a silver sedan had stopped talking.
A man at the coffee counter held his paper cup halfway to his mouth.
The elderly visitor looked back at Tyler.
“You said you have actual appointments.”
“That’s right.”
“And I’m not an actual customer.”
“I’m saying I know how this business works.”
“Do you?”
Tyler’s face hardened.
“I know enough not to spend an hour giving a private presentation to someone who isn’t buying.”
The old man looked at the SUV again.
“What if I told you I was considering buying two?”
That made one of the salesmen snort.
Tyler smiled broadly.
“Two.”
“One for me. One for my daughter.”
“Of course.”
“You don’t believe me.”
Tyler leaned a little closer.
“No.”
The old man’s expression did not change.
“Why?”
Tyler gestured vaguely at him.
“Because.”
“That isn’t an answer.”
“Because people who buy two Imperials don’t usually walk in wearing torn jeans.”
The old man looked down at his jeans as though noticing them for the first time.
There was, in fact, a tear near one knee.
“I caught these on barbed wire this morning.”
“That kind of proves my point.”
“No. It explains the tear.”
Tyler shook his head.
“Sir, this conversation is going nowhere.”
The older man reached into his jacket.
Tyler’s eyes flicked toward the movement.
The man pulled out a folded piece of paper.
“I wrote down a few questions.”
Tyler didn’t take it.
“I’m not doing this.”
“What?”
“This whole performance.”
The old man slowly lowered the paper.
Tyler pointed toward the entrance.
“If you’re not here to make a serious purchase, I’m asking you to leave.”
Emma’s mouth opened.