Cadillac Academy Robert Kerbeck
“We’re gonna bump him,” the general manager, Ted Schwartz, said. “Get him in here.” I was pretty sure, even then, that we weren’t going to murder anyone—as in bump him off—but since I was brand new at the Philly dealership as well as straight out of college, I thought I ought to double-check. I’d overheard one of the other salesmen say that Ted had been in federal prison, so my concerns weren’t completely without merit. “Bump him…how?” But Ted had already bolted out of his office, carrying the monster-sized Styrofoam cup of coffee I’d never seen him without. As I watched his back, his index finger beckoned. I heard, “Come on. Walk and talk.” When I finally caught up to him, he was halfway down the football field-sized showroom, smoking a cigarette. “Did you call him yet?” he asked, blowing smoke right in my face, like he somehow knew cigarette smoke nauseated me. “The customer? No, you just told me…” “Not now. Before.” Ted’s voice was as gravelly as a rat-pack singer. In his late fifties, he wore an expensive designer suit, with a thick gold chain dangling from one wrist and a massive silver watch on the other. “No, he called asking for a guy named Bear, and the receptionist gave the call to me. She said Bear didn’t work here anymore.” Ted snickered and shot me a sideways glance, increasing his speed to Mach 8 as he led me into the new car storage bay. If the showroom was the size of a football field, then the storage bay was the entire stadium. “Show me,” said Ted. For the first time I knew what he meant and guided him to the car that had recently come in. I zigged and zagged through rows of shiny new cars, some with the chalk from the freight companies still on the windshield. Ted stayed on my ass the whole way, until I found the gold 1990 Cadillac Allante convertible with the white leather interior. “Oh, this is gonna be good. This is gonna be like poppin’ a virgin’s cherry. Except you’re the virgin.” Ted laughed and pointed his cigarette at the star-patterned tie I’d bought for the job, my first since graduating college. I backed away when it appeared he was going to actually put a hole through it. “I remember him now,” Ted said. “Foster. Black guy, of course. Who else would order that color combo? You figured that out, right, when you saw the Caddy? Please tell me you knew at least that?” Off of my savemy-ass nod, Ted started up again, talking as fast as he walked. “Foster ordered the Caddy so he could get it exactly the way he wanted it, but he kept busting our balls on the price. He knew our cost on every option,
knew the freight charges, had the invoice down cold. Hell, he should be the one working here, not you. He even knew about the dealer holdback.” “What’s that?” I asked and immediately regretted it. “Jesus fuck, whose dick did you suck again to get this job?” “Uh, my dad plays tennis with the owner, Mr. Kutner.” I wanted to explain that we didn’t belong to the same country club as Mr. Kutner, or any country club for that matter. I didn’t want Ted thinking I couldn’t handle the rough neighborhood. The Cadillac dealership was surrounded by boarded-up buildings with weeds as tall as basketball players, and was the lone sign of affluence—or any money really—as far as the eye could see, unless you counted the occasional gas station or fast-food restaurant. “Lemme guess, English major?” “Philosophy.” When Ted continued to glare at me while puffing away, I added, “English minor.” “Well, philosophize this, Einstein. You’re going to bring in this Foster. You’re gonna personally spit shine his car and have it glistening in the setting sun. You’re gonna demo the car he custom ordered and show him every beautiful option it has. He’s gonna float back to your cubicle to sign the paperwork, all high as a kite. And then you’re gonna bump him.” When I stared at Ted blankly, he took a long drag, finishing the cigarette. “You’re going to tell him he has to pay more for the car.” He said it slowly like I was retarded. “But,” I stuttered, “Mr. Foster said he already finalized the price when he ordered it. He said he left a five-thousand-dollar deposit. He knew the exact balance he has remaining. He’s bringing a cashier’s check.” Ted grabbed me by the back of my neck and pulled me so close I could see that his teeth were fake, even the ones all the way in the back of his grinning mouth. “What did I tell you? This is gonna be fun.”
After a terse conversation with Mr. Foster to set the time for delivery (5:45, right after he got off work) I got the lightning-fast Caddy (it had the most torque of any front-wheel drive vehicle in the world) into service to be prepped and detailed. On my way back to my cubicle to begin the paperwork, I ran into the only saleswoman at the dealership, Kelly. She was in last place on the sales board if I didn’t count myself, which I didn’t because I’d just started. Kelly was coming out of the bathroom and feigned surprise to run into me as though she’d been searching everywhere for me, including the women’s bathroom.
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