Chapter 18: The Other Stores
Walter Sterling liked Thursdays. They were far enough from the weekend that nobody expected a visit from the owner, which was exactly why he chose them.
He parked his old pickup two blocks from Sterling Motors of Tempe and walked the rest of the way in his worn flannel shirt and the boots that had given the program its name.
The Tempe showroom was smaller than Scottsdale, full of morning sun. A young salesman with a shaved head and a name tag reading DEREK spotted him before Walter was ten feet inside.
"Good morning, sir," Derek said, crossing the floor. "Welcome in. Anything I can help you with today?"
Walter glanced at the row of sedans. "Just looking, mostly. I hear good things about the Sovereign."
"Beautiful choice." Derek smiled, easy and unforced. "I'm Derek, by the way. No pressure. Want some coffee while you browse? We just made a fresh pot."
"Black, if it's no trouble."
"No trouble at all." Derek called over his shoulder, "Lena, would you grab a black coffee for this gentleman?" Then back to Walter: "So, the Sovereign. What drew you to it?"
They talked for twenty minutes. Derek asked questions, listened to the answers, opened the driver's door without being asked, and told a story about a customer who had written the store a thank you note. When Walter finally said he was just doing research, Derek reached into his jacket and handed him a card.
"Whenever you're ready, sir. Or if you just want to talk cars. I'm here most days."
Walter took the card. "Derek Alvarez. You just made my morning."
Derek grinned. "That's the job."
In the pickup, Walter wrote in his notebook: Tempe. Derek Alvarez. Warm from the first step. Program taking root. He underlined the last three words twice. Then he drove to Mesa.
Sterling Motors of Mesa sat beside the freeway, bigger, louder, its showroom packed with balloon displays left over from a weekend sale. Walter walked in wearing the same flannel, the same boots, and stood by a silver Halcyon coupe for a full minute before anyone looked at him.
A salesman in a sharp gray suit glanced over, sized him up in about two seconds, and went back to his phone.
Walter cleared his throat. "Excuse me. Could you tell me about this one?"
The salesman didn't look up. "That's the coupe. Starts around ninety. Brochures are on the rack by the door."
"I'd rather hear it from a person."
That earned a sigh. The salesman, name tag reading GREG, pocketed his phone and walked over without enthusiasm.
"You looking to buy today, or just browsing?" Greg asked.
"Just learning for now."
"Right." Greg folded his arms. "Well, it's fast, it's silver, and like I said, it starts around ninety."
Walter studied him. "Do you enjoy selling cars, Greg?"
Greg blinked. "Excuse me?"
"Simple question."
"I enjoy closing deals," Greg said carefully. "Look, sir, no offense, but I've got appointments. If you're serious, I can get you with one of our junior people."
"That would be fine. Get me one of your junior people."
Greg hesitated, then waved toward the back. "Hey, Priya! Customer up front!"
A young woman hurried over, slightly breathless. "Hi, sir. I'm Priya. How can I help?"
Walter smiled. "Priya, tell me about the coupe."
And she did, with real energy, opening the door, pointing out the interior stitching, asking what he drove now. Greg watched for thirty seconds, then drifted back to his phone.
Ten minutes later Walter thanked Priya, took her card, and walked out. In the parking lot he opened his notebook and wrote: Mesa. Greg, dismissive. Priya, kind but unsupported. Training not reaching the floor.
His phone buzzed. Elena Vargas.
"How's the tour going?" she asked.
"Uneven," Walter said. "Tempe made me proud. Mesa made me tired."
"Chad's been asking about you," Elena said. "He wants to know when the next visit is."
Walter almost smiled. "Tell him the visits are unannounced, Elena. That's rather the point."
"He knows. That's why he's asking."
"How's Maya?"
"Three appointments today. All referrals." Elena paused. "The program is working, Walter. Even the rough stores are better than a month ago."
"Better isn't the standard," Walter said quietly. "But it's a start. Tell Derek Alvarez in Tempe I'm grateful. And tell the Mesa manager I was there today, and I'd like a word about a salesman named Greg."
"Consider it done."
Walter ended the call and looked at his notebook, at the two entries side by side. Same company. Same training. Same Thursday. One store had listened and one had not, and the difference came down to people, the way it always did.
He started the pickup and pulled onto the freeway, already thinking about the next store on his list.