“I feel like an idiot.”
“Useful feeling, temporarily.”
“Temporarily?”
“If you stay there, it becomes self-pity.”
Trent looked at her.
Diane folded her arms.
“I’m not interested in you spending the next month telling everybody what a terrible person you are. That still makes you the center of the story.”
He nodded slowly.
“I want behavior changed. That’s less dramatic and more difficult.”
“You and Dalton sound alike.”
“Frank has been annoying me with correct observations for twelve years.”
Trent almost smiled.
Diane glanced toward Marcus, who was returning from the printer.
“You owe him more than one apology.”
“I know.”
“Not because he got this sale. Because I pulled the assignment data.”
Trent’s expression tightened.
“I saw.”
“You’ve taken nine unassigned floor opportunities from junior staff this month.”
“I closed six.”
“There it is.”
“What?”
“The justification.”
Trent looked frustrated. “Diane, if a customer is ready to buy and a new guy is floundering, the dealership loses money if we let pride get in the way.”
“That can be true.”
“Then—”
“It can also become the story you use every time you want the opportunity.”
He was quiet.
Diane continued. “A senior salesperson should help a new person close, not erase him from the deal.”
Trent nodded.
“Do you want me to split commissions going forward?”
“I want you to follow rotation rules going forward. If Marcus asks for help, help. If a manager transfers the deal, transfer it. You do not get to decide that somebody else’s customer belongs to you because you think you’ll do better.”
“Understood.”
“And the next person who walks in dressed like Frank?”
Trent sighed. “Treat them like Frank.”
Diane gave him a sharp look.
He caught himself.
“No. Treat them like a customer.”
“Better.”
Outside, Marcus handed Emily the final receipt to review.
Diane watched them for another moment.
“I hired you because you can sell,” she said quietly. “I’m keeping you because I think you can become better than the habits that made you successful. Don’t make me wrong.”
Trent looked at her.
“I won’t.”
“We’ll see.”
Diane walked away.
Trent stayed beside the window for a few more seconds, then turned back toward the entrance.
The older woman in gardening shoes he had greeted earlier was waiting near his desk. She had come in asking about a six-year-old hatchback advertised online. Before that morning, Trent might have handed her to Marcus or another junior salesperson once he learned she was paying cash from a fixed retirement budget.
Now he walked over and sat down across from her.
“Mrs. Campbell,” he said, “you said visibility is the most important thing because of your neck surgery. Before we talk price, I want to show you two cars with better sight lines than the hatchback you came for. One is actually cheaper.”
The woman looked surprised.