May of 2002 was a particularly delicate time of life for me; I had just turned 40 years old that past December, we had just marked the one year anniversary of my daughter’s murder (in April of ’01) and we were struggling to make a life for ourselves in Hot Springs Village, Arkansas. I had been trying to start this website design company (dPhilip.com LLC), I had been partnered with Earthlink (an internet service provider) and working with local “mom and pop” types of business to help them establish themselves on-line with an easy to use little website…starting at as little as $499! I had established a few local accounts but in that market, at that time, the concept of on-line marketing was a little a head of it’s time so I started to look for other markets to sell my services in and there was an opportunity in Phoenix, Arizona to help a car dealership establish itself on-line and so I placed a bid on the projectand got a positive response! The contract would be for six months with an option to renew once the site was fully functional, the pay was decent and so we packed up the family and some of our key belongings in our old Ford Windstar and drove into the sunset from Arkansas to Arizona.

            The roadtrip there was adventure in itself and though I could tell a tale about Midland, Texas that is non-too-flattering, I will skip to the chase and tell you arrived in Arizona in the last week of May and it was already ungodly hot there. We got an “efficiency apartment”, kind of like a hotel room but with a little kitchen and room for all four if us and our one cat (Lennon). I went to the interview with the car dealership and did very well so I was asked to “join the team”; however, since I had no previous experience with selling cars or the industry itself, they wanted me to take this six week training program they had for all new sales people and I would be required to spend training time on the sales floor (which includes outside, on the lot too). I had no problem with this, I thought it would be a good experience and itcouldn’t hurt my paycheck if I happen to sell a car or two along the way. Well, the six week class started in a seminar setting, spending the first three weeks in a classroom learning about everything from sale techniques to financing options. I excelled at that and soon became the trainer’s favorite student. The next two weeks of training was all about product knowledge and “shadowing” some of the veteran salespeople on the floor. The last week of training was supposed to be on the sales floor, working the foot traffic like all the other hustlers out there (there were maybe 30 sales people at this large dealership on Bell Avenue).

Our “break out week” happen to fall on The Independence Day week long sales celebration! Now, wait, let me back track a little and provide a touch of historical perspective to this tale; this was the summer of 2002, only months after the 9/11 attack and if you remember, the auto industry “came to the rescue” and made buying a new car easier than ever; with Chevy, the dealer I was working with, their slogan was “Get America Rolling Again…” and to do this they offered great deals, easy financing and did a lot of advertising. My trainer, a kid 15 years younger than me named Justin, set a opening sales goal of 5 new cars from me in my first week. I thought that was high, I didn’t think I would reach  that goal, but being the goal oriented ambitious person I like to be, I dived into the sales game head first! By the second day of the week, I had already sold three new cars,by the end of that first week I sold 14 new cars and won an award for “most new sales” that week! It was so easy, people just walked on to the lot, I would get to talking with them and before I knew it, I was helping them sign their lives away for a $20k vehicle! The General Manager of the dealership walked up to me after I had sold my 10^th car and said “It’s like shooting fish in a barrel, isn’t it?”

“It sure is!” I agreed, “There’s nothing to it!”

“You’re a natural…” he said to me, “You should stay on the floor.”

“Yeah?” I was polite because I was still aiming on that Internet based position, “I like it, there’s a good energy to selling…”

“You’ll make manager in no time.” He patted me on the back, “Good Job, Phil.”

“That’s d’Philip…” I corrected him because I hate when people shorten my name as if they were close to me, “and Thank you, I’ll keep up the good work!”

Well six weeks soon became eight weeks which turned into twelve weeks and there was no movement on changing positions. I would go into work everyday, do my job and sell cars, I was averaging about 10 per week that summer, my paychecks were decent and though I hated the routine, the sales techniques were quacky to me and I despised having to stand on that hot blacktop, among rows of parked steel and glass, all of it reflecting the unforgiving sun and the heat searing the rubber sole of my shoes. After the big Labor Day sales weekend I went back to General Manager and asked again, when would I be transferred to the Internet department?

“You won’t be.” He said flatly, “We like you right where you are, selling cars!”

“I don’t want to keep doing this, it’s not what I signed on for…”

“You’re clearing 10 bills a week!”

“It’s not about the money…” I lied, “It’s about the principal.”

“Principal?” he chuckled and then dismissed me, “This is the car business, kid.”

It was even worse because that summer, like that manager said, it was like shooting fish in a barrel. Customers, people like you or me, they were just walking into the joint, with their checkbooks in hand and it was all so sleazy and easy to sell them a Tahoe or Impala or Cavalier…bang, bang, bang…three more sales and it was only Tuesday night! I walked out of his office, out of the dealership, off the lot, into my car and never went back again. The point of this little d’Tale is that I once did something I despised doing for three months; selling cars. I couldn’t stand the tricks of the trade, the wham-bam, thank you ma’am approach and I knew how badly people were getting ripped off which really bothered me. I wore a suit and tie, as required and fake smile and firm handshake. I had an easy look in my eye because you have to be trusted by the people that you lie to so that when theyturn their backs on you, you’ll get the chance to put the knife in! That’s how I felt, that’s what I saw in the mirror before I would go off to work everyday. I didn’t like the looks of me either and I knew I had to change before it was too late. Before I became one of those clones, those yard sharks that lurk around, waiting for the next easy prey. That was not me, that was not who I am.  

One day, that day I left the General Manager’s office and never went back, I think something inside of me broke. Ironically, our old Ford Windstar, which was also breaking down on us, was stolen from a Safeway Supermarket parking lot later that same night! I think I was having a psychotic episode too, I was in a terrible state of mind, still reeling from my daughter’s death (but stuffing it deep inside a lot) I was not medicated and though I was never much of a drinker, I did consume more than I normally did while we were living there. I needed something to numb the pain. I was broken and I had enough so we just rented a truck, packed everything up like The Beverley Hillbillies and headed back for the rolling hills of Arkansas. We just left one day, never mind about the lease we had, never mind about the bills we would owe, not even minding the fact that our son was startingkindergarten that year, we just packed our stuff up and high tailed it out of town like a band on the run.

I come back to this story, some ten years later because I have been questioning my own business ethics and practices. I know I’m a far cry from the practices of that particular dealership, I like to think I am a lot more genuine that I was back then and I wouldn’t sell myself so short again and never take a job where I was made to feel the feelings I had that summer. I hope I am a better person than the ones who I worked with there and I do believe that I have strong moral codes and values. But I sometimes stumble, I sometimes fall on my face and do the wrong thing; but I live and learn, brush myself off and move forward. I’m no longer shooting fish in a barrel but instead casting my lines far and wide, looking to hook a bigger fish, for both the sport and satisfaction. I know along the way some people are bound to get hurt, I can think of one person in particular that I seem to havebruised, but that’s what happens when games are played. Sometimes you get injured, sometimes you get called out of the game and sometimes you play through the pain and keep on playing. I chose to keep on playing.

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