Good Morning Chrysler

I keep reading in the news about how far car sales are sliding, but you wouldn't know it working here. Our numbers for last month were as steady as they have been ever since our current management team took over. I think that this story paints a fair picture of how many of us feel. Certainly, we are not getting out two to three hundred vehicles a month like we did in the often reflected upon heyday, but we have kept ourselves steady since December.

It is early morning now, and I won't have time to blog later today because I am training our new evening receptionist.

Our lot manager, Booker, passes by my desk. He has a small, but muscular frame, like Bruce Lee. His eyes, which could pierce a hole through solid steel, are softened by the small framed glasses that he wears. A thoughtful and considerate man, he often stops by my desk to talk about various tidbits of knowledge. "Good morning Booker," I call to him. "Hey brother-man," he calls back, and walks toward the garage.

Now I check on yesterday's numbers and call our main store to give them to Lorraine, who is the morning receptionist over there. She is the voice of my mornings. Every morning I talk to her. Sometimes I ask for her advice. Often I just tell her about my evenings or weekends. Every morning for close to a year now I have talked to Lorraine, but I have never actually met her.

The salespeople are trickling in, tucking in their shirts, tying their ties, smoking their morning cigarettes out on the concrete stoop that looks over our parking lot. They lean on the rail and talk about yesterday's near misses and today's possibilities. Sales people always focus on the possibilities. Theirs is a profession that can't look back for too long, there's no money in it. You can't eat your past, or take shelter in it.

I see my trainee walking up the steps so I need to wrap this up. Until next time.