The highway that the dealership is located on is also home to a dozen other car lots. Mitsubishi, Buick, GMC, Lincoln, BMW and a rash of high line used car dealers line the street. Tempting targets for petty crime. For the last few weeks we’ve been in the middle of a minor crime wave. Some mornings we come in and see the aftermath of their larceny. Broken glass, ripped wires and the occasional scrawled obscenity greet us.
They go for CD changers, DVD players, airbags and any shiny thing that might catch their eyes. The police always come out and make their reports.
This morning the used car manager, was in a rage. “Our insurance carrier says he’s not going to cover these break-ins any longer,” he told the Cop. “What are you guys planning to do about it?”
“Sir,” the Policeman said. “As I told you before, this is the work of a bunch of kids. Even if we catch them in the act, and believe me we have, they go to juvenile detention and they let them out the next morning.”
“Not good enough,” the manager said. “We need you to patrol this area more. Pay attention.”
The Cop’s brow creased. His patience had run out. “Sir, we’re by here a minimum of eight times each night. Have you given any thought to hiring a night watchman?”
“That’s what we pay you guys for.”
That didn’t go over well. “Here’s your report,” The Policeman said as he ripped the paper out of his booklet. “Have a nice day.”
The manager was not happy. He stomped around the rest of the morning showing his ass. I tried to stay away from him.
After lunch I saw the Colonel scribbling on car windshields with a wax marker. He wrote: Low Miles! CD Player! Make an Offer! on a Volkswagen Jetta. I watched him work for a few minutes. He had scrawled information like this on at least twenty cars. DVD Player! Wireless Headphones!
“Do you think that’s a good idea?’ I asked. “You know, with all the break-ins?”
“Burke,” he snapped.” Do you not know anything at all about the car business? You’ve got to create some excitement with these people. Get some traffic in here. I know what I’m doing. You do your job and let me do mine.”
Okay Sarge, I thought. Carry on.
So the next morning, on the ground beneath all the marked cars, broken glass glistened like diamonds in the early light. “Damn it,” the managerl raged. “I can’t believe it. What are these cops doing? Eating doughnuts all night while we’re being robbed blind?”
I decided to do my job and let him do his, as requested. He called the police. “I demand that you send someone out here right now,” he shouted at the phone. “What? What do you mean? Don’t you take that tone with me. Is this a joke to you? What’s your name? I’m going to have you fired.”
Just another day at the old car lot.