salesman I’m in the market for a new automobile, and I have a simple question: Why is buying a car so goddamned difficult?

I went out and bought groceries this morning, and it was a straight-forward process. Every product was clearly labeled with a price, and if I didn’t want to pay $2.00 for the name brand item, I could see that a cheaper knock-off was available for twenty cents less.

And since people are morons who are incapable of simple math, the store even provided a price-per-ounce so I could compare products of different size. That’s how I figured out that buying a pallet load of Ramen soup wasn’t really that good of a good deal after-all.

When I went to the car dealership later that afternoon, it was a totally different story. There was a price in the car’s window, but it turns out that isn’t the real price at all, and only women pay it.

That “price” is really just a made-up number that’s a starting place for haggling, and since I’m not a 13th century Syrian rug merchant, I fucking hate haggling. Seriously, if you like matching wits with some slimy salesman in a cheap suit, then more power to you, but I don’t. Granted, I did love messing with him during the test drive.

I kept asking questions like, “Has anyone every committed suicide on a test drive by driving into oncoming traffic?” and I’d then relock his door every time he unlocked it a stop light. At one point, I honestly think he was going to jump out and just run, but I revved it just as he touched the door handle, and he lost his nerve.

Was all that necessary? No. I didn’t get a car, I assume I’m now banned from the Fredericksburg Ford dealer, and I’m 90% sure my salesman pissed himself. And all of that could have been avoided if they had just put the real damned price in the window in the first place.