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Wheeling and dealing
Victor had decided to sell his car. He had heard of this place where a deal could be struck in minutes, with all the paperwork done in a jiffy.
- By Vanaja Rao, Stone Editor
- Published: 23:56 October 30, 2008
Victor had decided to sell his car. He had heard of this place where a deal could be struck in minutes, with all the paperwork done in a jiffy.
So, he ventured forth on a Friday evening. As he neared the place, notorious for its congestion and the inspiration for a flood of letters to newspaper editors, he could see a line of cars ahead which seemed to have come to a standstill. What struck him was the fact that no one stuck in the traffic seemed impatient or angry. No one tooted their horns or showed any signs of road rage. Instead, they waited patiently as several men standing on the side of the road approached the cars. Windows were wound down and brief histories of vehicles were exchanged.
What amused Victor was the brisk business at a small café conveniently located at the side of the road. Orders rang out and cups were served swiftly. That was when he realised that this exercise was going to be a time-consuming one.
A tap on his window alerted him to the presence of a prospective buyer. As he rolled down the window, a head pushed itself inside his car and a volley of questions followed: What year? 1.3 or 1.6? Automatic or manual? Asking price?
As he named his price, the passenger door opened without so much as a "May I?" and he found himself face to face with a stranger. Taken aback, he tried to regain his composure only to find himself at the receiving end of another barrage of questions. This time these were in Arabic. As he struggled to comprehend, a calculator was thrust into his hands. Putting two and two together, he realised he was being asked to quote his last price.
With the shrewdness of a Shylock he keyed in a figure that gave him some leeway to bargain further. The uninvited visitor glanced at the figure in seeming disbelief, as if he couldn't believe his eyes. Shaking his head vigorously, he lapsed into another spate of Arabic. The words were accompanied by a fierce shaking of the head and raised eyebrows.
Even as these dramatic scenes were unfolding, Victor was instructed in sign language to proceed to a place where the real bargaining could be done in peace and quiet. Loath to leave this comfort zone for places unknown, he stalled at first. But an imperious hand ordered him to move his vehicle out of this maze.
Not one to question such an authoritative gesture, Victor deftly manoeuvred his car out of the lane, following brusque directions such as 'Right', 'Left' and 'Streeet' (straight) issued peremptorily. After coming to a halt, the stranger hopped out, returning soon with reinforcements. This was undoubtedly the big boss, the one who made the hard decisions. Without further ado, Victor was asked to slide into the passenger seat while this man took over the wheel. Soon they drew up at a testing facility where the car was inspected thoroughly.
After the examination, the man came to him, shaking his head in what can only be described as deep sorrow. He then proceeded to list the extensive repairs required. In the next breath he mentioned a price that made Victor's jaw drop. Not with astonishment but horror.
Offended by this dismal valuation, Victor acted suitably appalled. This time it was he who shook his head and raised his eyebrows. Then, with as much dignity as he could muster, he made a pretence of getting into his car, albeit in slow motion, waiting to be stopped. The expected happened. A request was made for a practical offer.
So, Victor quoted a last price. The facial expression that accompanied this seemed to convey the pain that this offer caused him. But, in the name of goodwill, he was willing to climb down. But not any further. Take it or leave it.
It was taken. And as he walked away a richer man, Victor silently applauded himself for thespian talents he had not known he possessed while Mr Buyer went home with yet another scalp to his belt.
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