Scott Peterson

People who sell vehicles work in a nasty profession. They deal in trickery and lies. Lots of folks say the same about strippers, but it is not necessarily true. Strippers take their clothes off for money. There is not much deception inherent in that activity. Normal men go to the clubs to see bare flesh and they don't get tricked into anything. I never try and swindle any customer out of his money. Either he tips me or he doesn't. Either he gets a dance or he doesn't. It's really that simple. Selling a vehicle is far, far different.

Recently I went to buy a used car from a dealership. I have an intense dislike of shopping in general and shopping for cars is worse than shopping for anything else. Usually I make my mind up very quickly about what I want so I can try and keep the excursion as mercifully brief as possible. Still, buying cars off a lot takes a long time because the staff uses the lengthening number of hours to wear you down. You spend lots of time arguing with the salesguy, waiting, arguing with the sales manager, waiting, arguing with the finance guy, waiting some more, and then you finally realize that you've spent half a day there and you darned well better drive off in something or else you are going to have to repeat the whole experience at another dealership.

Why didn't I just buy a vehicle from a private party? My past experience has taught me that it is actually more of a pain in the butt. Individuals selling their old cars usually are selling just one car. If you don't want to buy it then you have to keep visiting homes and offices of people until you find one that you like. It just seems easier to bite the bullet, go to a car lot and deal with the smarmy people who work there. So there I was at South Bay Toyota looking for a used Toyota. My experience would have been easier if I had been buying one of their new vehicles. They don't try and negotiate as hard because they make such a killing when they sell those. My fear of potential poverty, however, will not let me justify spending that much money on a depreciating asset. I hoofed through the used car section until I found a used Tundra with a seven-year/100,000-mile warranty, took it for a test drive, and told the salesman I wanted to purchase it. He barely spoke English and he really took his time getting me through the preliminary paperwork, disappearing frequently "to go speak to the manager." He did not discuss financing terms. Finally he ushered me into the office of the man who would help me arrange a loan through Toyota Financial Services. This man introduced himself as Scott Peterson. Scott Peterson? It took a moment for the name to register. He watched my face until I placed it and then we cracked a few jokes about how he had the same name as the man from Modesto sentenced to die for the murders of his pregnant wife and unborn son.

Scott produced a sheaf of paperwork and handed me a pen. He had already filled in all the numbers. I started asking questions and he became exasperated.

"Didn't, uh.." Scott tried to think of the salesman's name and could not come up with it. "Didn't your salesman explain all this to you already? This should have been dealt with before you walked into my office."

He spoke the words "my office" as if he were referring to hallowed grounds.

"No." I responded with annoyance, fully aware that this was just a tactic he was using to try and pressure me and make me question myself.

Scott glared at me.

"He barely speaks English anyways." I heard myself saying.

Did I see a smile playing at the corner of Scott's mouth?

We kept arguing. Maybe I got a bit loud, but not really loud. I was angry as we proceeded with the so-called negotiations. It seemed like many people were walking by his office and looking in through the open door. I watched Scott as he kept trying to elucidate his arguments as to why I should pay that price for the vehicle and why I deserved that particular interest rate. He started to imply that my credit was a bit shaky. I informed him that I had just refinanced some property I own for a more favorable interest rate and had almost verbatim knowledge about what appeared on my credit report. Scott didn't miss a beat.

"Look, this is the best deal I can give you." he said. "You real-ly like that vehicle, don't you?"

"I could really like a lot of vehicles." I said.

Scott threw back his head and gave a laugh, as if I had said something really original and funny that he had never heard before.

"You could like a lot of vehicles." he repeated. "I like that. I like that.."

I found myself smiling. I'm smiling as I write this. That guy was just a piece of fucking work. Talk about stereotypes. At that point Scott had leaned back in his leather office chair. He thought I was smiling with pleasure because I enjoyed that he had appreciated my words. I was smiling because he was sporting a gold chain on the outside of his dress shirt and another matching one around his wrist. He fiddled with them both a lot. And I was smiling because he had just tried to flatter me - he had thrown me the proverbial bone - and he thought it had worked. Scott relaxed his posture even more.

"You know, these days I see more and more girls coming in here to buy trucks. I don't understand it, but it's a sign of the times, I guess." Scott said with a smile as he threw up his hands in a gesture of mock surrender.

I smiled back at him and checked my impulse to inquire:

"What planet have you been living on, Scott?"

Nice Scott made a few more attempts at levity and conversation before Mean Scott came back and tried to move in for the kill. Mean Scott announced that he was going to have to call the the salesman into his office and tell him the deal was off if I did not agree to the financing terms which he had just offered me. I merely shook my head. Scott called the salesman on the phone, informed him of the sad turn of events, and asked him to come into his office. The salesman entered and the expression he wore on his face was a combination of seething, red-faced anger/petulant schoolchild. He stood rooted to the floor with his fists clenched and stared at me with utter hatred. This was not an act. Hooboy. I found myself wondering if he had already called his wife and kids to tell them about the sale. Or maybe he had already called all his drinking buddies. Or maybe he'd already called his extended family back in the Phillippines or wherever to tell them about his windfall. Maybe he'd told them he'd be wiring them some more money in the very near future. Now that he thought that the sale was in limbo he looked like his world was falling apart. He hated me. He just fucking hated me. Even though he was acting like a gigantic baby he still had the balls to stare me in the face without trying to conceal his barely-contained rage. He never unclenched his fists.

In reality, the salesman was the only guy in the room who believed the sale was in jeopardy. I was still sitting there in my shorts, sandals, and tank top even though the afternoon had turned into evening and a chill had crept into the air. Scott knew I wanted the vehicle and he also knew that I had a decent down payment and good credit. Of course we reached an agreement in the end. It wasn't a great one but it wasn't a bad one either. Before I left his office Scott pulled out someone else's contract and showed me that the person had agreed to an interest rate of 19.95%. I stared at the document too closely and he hastily covered the person's name with his hand.

"Now this is a bad loan." he had said.

Good grief. Scott and I shook hands, our short acquaintance now finished forever. I headed out to the main showroom to find the salesman and get my keys.

"Nice doing business with you." Scott called out as I padded away in my rubber grocery store sandals and oversized shorts.

"Nice gold chain." I called back over my shoulder.

No, I didn't really say that. The now-jubilant salesman escorted me to my truck and I got in it and drove home. A few weeks later I received a document in the mail that provided all the information regarding the truck's history. It used to be a rental vehicle! Comedians crack jokes about people who buy used rental vehicles. I've cracked jokes about people who would consider buying an old rental vehicle. Everybody knows how rental vehicles get treated by people who rent them. I've been with friends who pulled on the emergency break in the middle of the street while driving 40MPH. They wanted to see how many times the rental car would spin around in circles. People do all kinds of messed up things to rental cars and I'd just bought one.

A week later I went to a bondage shoot. I told the photographer, Marcus, about the truck and its history.

"Where did you buy it from?" he asked me.

I told him. He kept laughing about it as we were shooting. It turned out that he knew some people who work at South Bay Toyota. At the end of the day he said:

"I can't wait to show these photos to the guys at the dealership! I'm going to tell them that you were one of the chumps who bought a vehicle that came from that rental fleet!"

"Just make sure to include one of me bending over." I replied with disgust.


As it turns out the truck has been great. I love it. The whole episode just occurred to me again when I saw those bondage photos Marcus shot shortly after I bought it. You can see the entire "Tanya Gagged and Bound" gallery at www.TanyaDanielle.com now!

- XXOO Tanya









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