I hate car dealerships. I hate how they treat women. I hate how they try to condescend you with illusionary words such as “interest” and “APR”.  I hate the way they try to act impressed by your negotiation skills when you are clearly aware of the financial rape that is occurring. And after today, I hate going to dealerships … with The Mister. You would believe that having a man at your side at a dealership would be an asset. You might be correct about this assumption if the “man” at your side is NOT THE MISTER. 

It’s one thing to ask the dealers for a moment of privacy to discuss financial matters. It’s a whole other thing to ask for privacy so you can ponder whether the two of you are walking out of the dealership still married. And trust when I say that glass windows do not create sufficient privacy when the murder in my eyes is doing all the talking. I’m going to venture to say that it’s never a good sign when your spouse yells out, “She’s crazy” and the salesman agrees. 

In conclusion, I am too distraught to post a Flashback Friday today, mostly because the only flashback I would like to have is to a time when I didn’t have an obscene monthly car payment. I have a new car now. I am not really sure what we paid for it … if I can actually pay for it … or better yet, if I will have to live in it when I have to choose it over my mortgage, but I have a car.