MY SAY: GRANNIE GETS A NEW CAR
This past weekend I set off to lease a new car. I knew exactly the make, the model and the trim that I wanted. Since Google does what it does, I was contacted by many dealers with a variety of incentives. I chose the one with the best deal in a low-end business corridor in the East Bronx.
When I arrived, the concierge called me “mami” and directed me to Steve, from Ghana, who called me “nana” and took me to Ramon in sales who informed me that his grandmother has the car which is best for old people. My salesperson whose white beard and cane indicated more senior status told me that his mother in law has the same car. (?)
The sales manager Sal groaning and pretending to suffer because he was taking a hit told me that the reason he accepted my offer is that I reminded him of his great aunt Ruth.
During the tedious wait for the new registration, license plate transfer, and servicing, every single person on the staff offered me coffee, donuts, a sandwich, a more comfortable chair- in several variations of the word “mother.” Ah, the perks of superannuation. They could not have been kinder.
When my spiffy new vehicle was ready, they helped me adjust settings and preferences and pair my cell phone and navigation. They all offered admonitions about driving safely and when I pulled out, they shouted “goodbye and God bless you!”
I did not just get a new car. I feel as if I got a gift that gives the lie to the media’s continual and disturbing claims that racial and ethnic relations among Americans are terrible. RSK
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