IT’S 2030. SELLING AND SERVICING CARS HAS CHANGED.
No longer is the business dominated by monolithic showrooms and expansive fixed ops departments. Instead, everything’s become virtual. Buyers can select every option and feature on their next vehicle via virtual touch screen. Dealership store fronts still exist but they’ve mostly become boutique affairs found in trendy shopping areas. As for service, cars are picked up and dropped off at customers’ residences, no need to schedule an appointment and drive to the dealership anymore. Welcome to our new fictional account on the dealership of the future.
In this, the first of our eight-part series, we meet Bill Tanner, a successful dealer who having built his empire in the old, physical environment, is coming to grips with the new virtual reality.
I love this neighbourhood — especially when the sun is shining, and the smell of money is in the air. This corner here, where I can look across the street at the awning that shades the dealership entrance and see all the comings and goings without being too noticeable myself. It’s the best place I know where you can take a bit of time to think, not that I seem to have that much time, even these days.
There’s just enough of a gap between Bertie’s bike shop and that ridiculous little gluten-free place that on a clear day, you can see the whole skyline.
Am I hiding? I know Jennifer, our former sales queen, said it jokingly, but now that I’m out here, puffing on my hands to keep warm I have to ask myself if maybe there’s some truth in it. I haven’t smoked for 20 years, so I don’t have that excuse. It’s just that some days, I can’t stand to stay inside.
HARKING BACK
I guess Lori is right. I miss the old days. Sure, they were a little back-slappy, and sometimes, boy, the economy was not your friend. But it all made the blood run hot. The dealership then was my 40,000-square-foot kingdom, and everywhere I looked there was more territory to be conquered. Conquer it I did, too. Not to blow my own horn, but I don’t think there’s an industry award left that I haven’t won. Tops in sales, tops in service, president’s awards, the biggest volume dealer in the country, and not just once either, but every one of the last 15 years. And now, here I am, standing on a cobbled street corner in the trendiest neighbourhood in town, looking over at the 2,000-square-foot storefront that has replaced all those floor-to-ceiling windows, all that space that used to hold one of every model for the coming year, that big receptionist’s desk, the lunchroom, the service bays, all of it made obsolete.
And me? I’m not quite ready to be obsolete just yet. For one thing, there are the boys to sort out. I tell you, I’m embarrassed — this situation is almost a cliché. I’ve got one son who wants it, and another who can handle it. Don’t get me wrong, I love my boys. But Ethan’s got the grit, the nerve, the savvy, the innate understanding of sales and what makes people tick — and Dylan’s got the desire. Then there’s Lori, of course. I don’t think a day goes by she doesn’t slip the word “retirement” into the conversation.
She keeps calling us “empty-nesters” but it always felt like her nest. My nest was at the showroom. I swear, the next time she says the word “cruise,” I think I will actually scream.
Ah, I’m caught. Jennifer pokes her head out the dealership door, extends a hand and crooks her finger at me, the international symbol for “get your butt in here.” And so it goes. I cross the street and duck back inside. It still takes me a bit by surprise, this new “dealership,” even now, three years into it.
It looks great, I can’t deny that. No detail has been overlooked, from the bamboo floors to the glass mosaic tiles on the walls and the restrained but distinct logos that are everywhere, painted monochromatically onto the ceiling even, and falling on the floor in silhouette from the light sconces high up on the walls.
THOROUGHLY RESEARCHED
I had my doubts, but the manufacturer’s designers assured me it has all been thoroughly researched, that there was science to back up every single choice. They even brought in a regional expert because apparently, some subtle colour differences can mean a lift in ROI of close to three per cent.
Jennifer is standing just outside the Sim, which emits the sounds of a giggling couple from inside. Jenn was a crackerjack sales associate in the old dealership, but she’s never quite found her footing here in this new milieu. I mean, she’s good, she’s fine, but there’s no denying that her superstar days are probably over.
I’ve already cut back her shifts as much as I’m comfortable doing. The next step is going to put her out the door. She just can’t seem to close anything these days. She doesn’t want a crack at online sales, says that face-to-face is all she’s ever known. I try to tell her it just isn’t the way things are done anymore, but if anyone is stuck in her ways, it’s Jenn. Ah, well. A problem for another day.
I look at the touchscreen on the side of the Sim to see what she’s got them in. It’s a Juno. The profit margin is tiny, and while it’s completely customizable — what isn’t these days? — I try to stay away from the Juno, just because they never seem to quite come out the way people think they will. I touch, swipe, make a couple of choices from the menu, and the giggling stops. Now they’re driving a Bacchus. With a few more swipes, I amp up the infotainment system, adjust the suspension and select larger tires to help it “hold the road better.” I hear the bass tones of the male half of the couple making approving noises. They clamour out.
“Dude,” the guy says, casting an eye past Jenn and addressing me. “What’s that? It drives like it’s on rails!”
“Doesn’t it?” The wife is lovely, and I barely touch her elbow as I lead the two of them away from the Sim, towards the wall of colour options, upholstery samples, skins and assorted other personalization choices. “What did you think, my dear?” Glancing down, I notice she’s wearing bike shoes, the touring kind that people wear on those slick, $2,000 machines. “You know, the bike rack on this beauty alone is worth the price of admission.” Their attention level ratchets up another notch. I glance over my shoulder at Jenn, who just stands there, watching me lead them away. That’s what happens when you stop sharpening that edge. It turns dull.
Damned if I’ll let that happen to me. Is there still territory to be conquered? You bet there is. There’s a whole new model out there, the next step in the evolution. The massive super-dealership may be gone, but this little boutique space is not its final resting place. Just wait, folks. You ain’t seen nothing yet.
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