Bankrupt!

I'm not surprised that it finally happened. But what does it mean for us, who make our meager wages at Chrysler dealerships?

Customers have been calling in to check if we are still here. We are. They want to know if their warranties are still valid. They are.

The sales people here don't seem worried. Why should they be? There are still a lot of cars to sell. Gino strolls through the dealership with a closed mouth smile. He's excited that Italian company, Alfa Romeo is buying Chrysler. "Today is a good day," he cheerfully says. Gino is Italian himself, and so I suppose he feels a sense of pride. It puts me at ease.

But then there are the ominous signs. The Meeting. Upstairs. Between the managers of every department of our dealership. Service, Parts, Sales, Office. All of the boss folk are going up into that room. We, on the first floor, stare up with trembling eyes, wondering what ill news they will bring down with them. Even Gino takes a brief moment to stop at my desk and wonder what is going on up there. "Maybe restructuring," he tells me.

Our dealership is filled with classic cars, which tell a story of the history of Chrysler. I guess they are here to attract customers, who enter our dealership in a state of awe. I always hear, "You don't see that every day." Well, yes I do. Though I think the classic cars are interesting (especially the 1924 Depot Hack), I can't help but see them as symbols of past ideas that no longer apply to today. The monstrous, gas-devouring, road-hogging, cars from the fifties are offensive to me. Not the cars themselves, but the unsustainable and shortsighted way of life for which they stand. I recently read an essay on the nature of collecting, and how it was characteristic of groups or individuals near the end of their life span. This thought makes the presence of so many classic cars at the dealership trouble me. It's as if my desk is in the center of a whirlwind of fragmented memories, a life flashing before Chrysler's eyes.

The meeting is ending as I am writing this. The suits are filing out quietly. The sales people are leaning around my desk, talking about what might happen. Nobody is too worried. Sales is a "here today, gone tomorrow," kind of business. Salespeople come and go fast. Losing your job is part of the job. Let's just hope its not the only part.