Bent Words

Bent Words

April 24, 2005

I like motorcycles.

I also like any food or drink that is blue in color (including, but not limited to, blue M & Ms), people who are walking their dogs and do not pick up their pace as I wistfully approach making 'kissy' noises, days full of sunshine, freshly cleaned sheets, mercury in thermometers, Roller Ball Pilot pens with extra fine tips, bartenders that remember my name despite the fact that I've mangled theirs four times in a row, animal shaped balloons, steel drums and using bookmarks that hold some sort of sentimental value.

There's probably a plethora of items that I've neglected but seeing as I've completely veered off topic, I'll not go on further.

Oh wait, one more thing - I like those little ham roll ups they sometimes serve at parties. GAWD do I like those...

Anyhow, two weeks ago, I resumed my old position as Sales Lady at a motorcycle shop which recently underwent new ownership. I used to be employed at the same establishment, since 2000, for about three and a half years as Sales Lady and I also tried my hand as Finance Manager, through 2004, for six months. I left because I had a better job offer and because the previous owners simply weren't the same motorcycle enthusiasts that I once thought they were. They did not have a real knack for the business and, over time, they turned cold and apathetic. It simply wasn't the type of place that I wanted to be associated with.

After being away from motorcycles for seven months, I began to get the 'itch.' You know - that feeling that you get after you've been on the best vacation EVER (or had an extreme bout of Athlete's Foot) and just really wanted to blow off everything else and go back? Well, that's kind of how I felt.

Include a sense of uselessness, poverty and absolute depravation and you'll be right on the mark...

Although I had been applying to other jobs in the area, it was always with half a heart. All I know is the power sports industry! I wasn't about to work at Kohl's selling shoes where I would surely end up owning over 45 pairs of sparkly sandals (ha!) before a month was out, or sit behind a computer all damned day, which I already do, performing data entry for a hospital. So when the General Manager of Action Power Sports called me and stated that I 'come highly recommended,' I made an appointment for an interview right away.

I accepted the job the day after my interview.

My first day back at the shop and I was greeted with open arms by a plethora of old customers. My co-workers stated that it was good to have me back and I even sold a motorcycle before the day was done.

The only person who didn't seem to take to me was the new Finance Manager. This, I knew, by the faint rays of hatred which pierced my back from her red, slitted eyes as she silently watched me walk away.

Perhaps this was the residual effect of having shred a good lump of important finance papers as I did before I left the shop when it was Lake Country Powersports. Perhaps it was due in part to the fact that the previous owners didn't sit well with the financial institutes that she was now forced to deal with. Or, perhaps, she just didn't like sweet, lovable, little old me.

Her routine glances of soul stomping, Satin like hatred go hand in hand with the moments of mortification when you see a scratch on your best customer's brand new Goldwing. Or when you realize you've just quoted a price to a gentleman on the phone that is $2000.00 higher than MSRP. It's like being asked to answer the phone before you've even doffed your sunglasses and punched in to work. It's right up there with selling the right vehicle only to realize, three days later, that it had the wrong VIN associated with it. It's nearly as annoying as the group of pathetic 'window shoppers' who make a weekly appearance for THREE years only to never, ever, EVER buy a single freaking thing yet insist on chattering in your ear for an hour about the new 2005 GSXR1000 as you watch three or four 'ups' saunter out the door.

So, yeah, this industry is not all sunshine and roses...

Yet I still like pushing bikes in and out of the 'tunnel' in the cool mornings and at the end of the night as the traffic races by on North Street. I still like to greet the familiar faces of persons I've sold two or three motorcycle to. I still like the rush of people a warm spring day brings and the chaotic hours as one attempts to write up two customers, deliver an ATV and answer three phones calls all at once. I still like picking on the new guy, catching the best crashes on the latest squid video as I pass through the Part Department, fitting a woman for the perfect helmet and joking with the guys about the two 'hot' chicks jogging by on the street. I still like being known for my abilities to close a deal, for my honestly during a sale, for my follow through with customers and for being able to ride the hell out of a motorcycle...

It's good to be back.

Written at 8:15 p.m.