For a second, Brent seemed to think he had misheard. Then he laughed. “You want to buy cars?” “Yes.” “Plural?”
“That’s right.” Brent looked at Elliot’s jacket and boots again, taking his time so the people nearby could see what he thought of him. “Look at you. You don’t even look like you have enough money to pay the sales tax on one of our floor mats. How many times do I have to tell you? This place isn’t for people like you.”
“I just want to discuss a purchase.” “And I just want you to stop wasting everyone’s time.” Elliot kept his hands at his sides. “Is this how you treat a customer?”
“Buy a car?” Brent said loudly. “Just look at yourself. Do you honestly think you have enough money to set foot in this place?”
The young couple beside the silver sedan had turned fully toward them now. The teenage boy near the SUV stared at the floor. A finance specialist behind a glass partition stopped typing. Sophia began to move toward them, but Brent lifted one hand without looking at her. “Don’t get involved, Sophia. I’ve got this.”
Elliot’s expression did not change. “Are you sure that’s how you want to treat a customer?” Brent took a step closer. “Are you threatening me?” “No. I’m giving you an opportunity to reconsider what you’re doing.”
Brent laughed again, louder this time. “Reconsider? You think you can walk in here dressed like that and lecture me about customer service? I’ve been selling luxury cars for years. I know who can buy and who can’t.”
“Then you should know that a person’s clothes don’t tell you what they can afford.” “They tell me enough.” Elliot nodded once. “Thank you. That’s all I needed to hear.”
He reached for his phone. Brent rolled his eyes. “Here we go. Calling your rich friends?” Elliot ignored him and dialed Emily.
“Emily, it’s time. Bring everything we’ve prepared and have all the vehicles delivered to the showroom immediately.” Brent shook his head and looked toward the other employees. “Unbelievable. He thinks he’s going to scare us.”
Elliot ended the call and slipped the phone into his pocket. “Just wait a moment.” Brent folded his arms. “I’m not waiting for anything. Richard!”
The showroom manager, Richard Sloane, emerged from his office near the rear of the building. He was a well-groomed man in his late forties, with a neat haircut and the smooth, practiced smile of someone who had spent years handling customer disputes. “What seems to be the problem?” Richard asked. “This man has been here two days in a row, wasting our time and refusing to understand that these vehicles are outside his price range.”
Richard glanced at Elliot, then at Brent. “Sir, is there something we can help you with?” “I asked to see a vehicle yesterday,” Elliot said. “Your employee told me I didn’t belong here. I returned today and said I wanted to purchase several cars. He responded by telling me I couldn’t afford to set foot in the showroom.”
Richard’s smile tightened. “Brent, perhaps we could handle this more discreetly.” “Richard, I’m handling it. He’s not a serious buyer.” “How do you know?”