November 16th, 2010
Over the next two weeks, a) iVillage will be migrating the fishblog content from MovableType to Drupal – which means absolutely nothing to you except that after today b) I won’t be able to add any new posts and c) you won’t be able to add any new comments. Well, you *can* but they won’t get transferred to the new! redesigned! blog. I haven’t seen it so it will be a surprise to all of us. Like an early Christmas/Hanukkah/Festivus gift!
In the meantime, have a very happy and filling turkey day and we’ll meet up back here on December 2nd. Oh, and if’n you need anything, you can always reach me at thisfish at gmail dot com.
I miss you already. For serious.
(The RSS Feed should work once the site is live again on December 2nd. If it doesn’t, pretend I didn’t say that.)
November 11th, 2010
Yesterday, I got an email from Dan at SharpShirter, asking if I’d be up for some joint-venturin’ with his best seller, the Cycling Fish t-shirt.
You betcha! One, I dig the shirt (bikes and fishes, you see). Two, the timing couldn’t be better. Three, he signed his email xoxo – a bold choice. And I like bold.
By now you know I don’t often take up causes (my personal credo is pretty simple: be good, say thank you and don’t text while driving). But this particular cause truly touches me, so I thought this might be a good opportunity to raise awareness and make a contribution.
- Enter the promo code “fishtee10″ and get 10% off your purchase
- Get a swell fish-bike t-shirt
- I’ll donate my share of the sale to It Gets Better/ The Trevor Project – a campaign to fund life-saving suicide prevention services and anti-bullying efforts for LGBT youth.
Got too many stylin’ tees as it is? Consider making a donation or submitting your own video story.
November 10th, 2010
“Stephanie Klein is happy.”
I read my friend’s status update on Facebook and I thought, “Me, too.” No exclamation points or anything. Just happy. Things are really pretty nice right now, which makes for uninteresting stories (boo) but really, really good sleep (yay). Like last night, we ate breakfast for dinner, drank wine, watched The Walking Dead (sorry, sorry, I mistyped earlier) and went to sleep with the windows open. See? Nice. I mean, minus the zombie gore. I close my eyes for most of that.
This weekend, the Boy and I visited the jeweler where he got fitted for his shackle. Er, wedding ring. Boy, was I surprised when the guy who wasn’t sure if he even wanted to *wear* a wedding band had so many freaking opinions about them. Matte not shiny. Straight not beveled. Not this one, but a little of that one. He tore through a case of wedding bands like he’d been prepping for days. I expected him to be very meh about the whole process and this sudden wham-bam-thank-you-ma’am decisiveness surprised me a little. What surprised me a lot, though, was how… sentimental he was getting to be about the whole thing.
When he made his final choice, he looked over at me for approval. I nodded and smiled.
“I like it!”
“But does it work? Like in the budget?”
Aw, precious. True, I am the official Keeper of the Budget (a position which allows him to be vaguely aware of its parameters, all the while blissfully unaware of its details) but that he seemed to be asking permission made me feel… well, like I’d been acting a crazy, penny-pinching nut job about the whole affair. Which, of course, I have been. But not about this! Not about his shackle!
“Are you kidding?” I asked. “Like I’m going to say there’s a price cap on your wedding ring.”
He relaxed visibly.
“If you’re going to wear it forever and ever – which you are – then the cost is irrelevant.”
By then, the saleswoman had disappeared to do some pricing or some such, and we were flitting from display to display trying to out-Liberace each other. Double-digit carat gemstone rings and thirty thousand dollar diamond hoop earrings. I stopped, in total shock and awe. When I recovered, I picked up where we’d left off.
“I mean, we’ll be eating Totino’s pizza at the reception, but it’s totally fine.”
“I like Totino’s.”
“Of course you do.”
November 3rd, 2010
From the comments:
I’ve been shopping for a car for a few months now and have been having horrible luck with salesmen. As a young-ish, single girl, they see me as an easy target. Can you offer any bargaining advice? I always feel like they back me into a corner and I’m never sure how to get out of it. Thanks! -Kristen
Kristen, I’m happy to help!
Disclaimer in the First: I am not an expert. I know, I know. You are shocked. To that end, I could be *gasp* wrong on some of the following, but it worked for me so now it is law. And anyway, a lot of this was garnered from conversations I had with my brother who is very practical and also tall. You know what they say about tall people.
Disclaimer in the Second: Technically, I am not single. Also technically, I did not go to the dealership by myself. However. The Dork Lord, god love him, deferred to me at all times, sat in the ‘guest’ chair and did not interject except to say, “Those don’t look anything like the numbers she was looking at. Do they?” To which I replied “Not even close!” Scramble went the salesman. Home for first pitch went the Boy. Mostly, he just sat next to me and played with his iPhone. I love this about him, by the way. When it’s my show, he’s very good at taking the supporting actor role. When the salesman erroneously addressed him first (as they will do), he simply nodded in my direction. “She’s in charge.”
1. Decide before you ever set foot in the dealership what you are going to pay. Write it down.
How do you know what to pay? I’m glad you asked. What you can pay will be dictated by your budget (for accurate planning, use an amortization calculator. I found this one useful). But to know what you should pay, go to a neutral source like Kelly Blue Book (kbb.com) or Edmunds (edmunds.com). Enter the year, make, model and trim of the car you’re looking to buy. Add the bells and whistles you expect – if you’re just gaga for a sunroof, add it to the package – we’re looking for a maximum range here. Now, check out the price. Notice there are three dollar numbers. In the example below, I priced out a 2010 Hyundai Santa Fe (they are rather nice to drive, in case you were wondering).
MSRP: Manufacturer’s Suggested Retail Price. Please make note of the word suggested. In reality, this number doesn’t mean jack squat.
Invoice: The price paid by the car dealership to have that shiny baby on their lot. But only *sort* of. The dealership didn’t actually pay the listed invoice price. There car manufacturer offers incentives and discounts that aren’t factored into that number. Do not be fooled by this number. Above all do not feel sorry for the car salesperson if they make any overtures about not making any money off the car.
Fair Purchase Price: The average price car buyers are paying for this car. On new models, like my 2011, the Fair Purchase Price will read the same as the MSRP due to the lack of data available. Do not be fooled by this number, either. If you’re tenacious and well informed, you can get a better deal.
Your price. The dealer is probably aiming to make a minimum of a thousand dollars (Your Price – Invoice Price = $1,000). Remember what you know about Invoice Price. It ain’t as advertised. But since you don’t know the actual dealer cost, the Invoice Price is a good place to start. The price you negotiate should be “up” from the invoice price of the car and not “down” from the MSRP. For instance, our Santa Fe has an MSRP of $28,690 and a Invoice price of $27,267. In my case, I set my sights on paying no more than $100 over invoice (in Santa Fe terms, that’s $27,367) and got what I wanted.
(You may end up writing two numbers down – one for the ideal car and one for the scaled down version, if you can live without some of those bells and whistles.)
2. Negotiate to get that price you wrote down; do not budge until you’re comfortable.
If you make the first move, put your number on the table and then sit quietly. If the salesperson makes the first move, as he did in my case, look over the initial offer and never, ever be afraid to say, “This is not what I had in mind.” When asked what you do have in mind, SAY IT. You may not be used to haggling, but you can bet the person on the other side of the desk is. Do not worry about sounding cheap, aggressive or even delusional. They have heard it all. The worst they can say is no, but even that answer shouldn’t be taken too seriously.
During all this, your demeanor should be relaxed (so, so important) and friendly but never, ever forget that the salesperson is just that. A salesperson. This is business.
3. Be prepared to walk away.
You’re not desperate for a car. You don’t care what special deals are going on right now, nor that they expire in exactly six minutes. There will be other deals. Other cars. Other dealerships. If you’re truly getting no traction (and right now, that’s pretty unlikely what with the economy being as it is) ask the salesperson to call you when they’re better prepared to negotiate. They aren’t likely to let that happen. See, no matter how it pains them (uh huh) to give you your way, the bottom line is this: the sales manager wants to make money (and his monthly bonus) by selling you a car. They know that’s not going to happen if you leave the showroom.
4. Don’t talk trade-in until you’ve settled on a price for the new car. Period.
Your trade in should not be a factor in the negotiated price of the new car. The dealer will do a bunch of fuzzy math to show you a super swell, lower monthly payment. Ignore him. Negotiate a car price, not a monthly payment. It’s okay to say, “If you don’t mind, I’d like to discuss the trade in after we’ve settled on a price.” You pay less sales tax ({negotiated price – trade in vale} x .0825 = total tax) when you have a trade-in, and the lower, super swell monthly payment will most likely be a result of that, more than anything.
5. Know what your trade in is worth. Write it down.
Again, Kelly Blue Book and Edmunds are great resources. Fill in the year, make, mileage and select the condition your car is in. And once again, you’ll be presented with a few dollar values. I’ve used a 2007 Santa Fe in the following example (and added side-by-side comparison of values).
Trade In Value. What you can expect the dealership to pay, based on the car’s condition. This will be the lowball offer.
Private Party Value. What you can expect to get going the For Sale By Owner route. Or even CarMax. We’ve found them to be quite competitive.
Suggested Retail Value: What the dealership is going to sell your washed, waxed, reconditioned and warrantied baby for.
Drop by a CarMax to get their offer, too. Fix that number in your head. Write it down. And don’t agree to anything that doesn’t match up. If anything, you can always take your car to CarMax, complete that transaction and then come back to the dealership with the cash. Again, though, they won’t want you to walk away – you might not come back.
Keep in mind that you’ll have to be realistic about the condition your car is in. If you’re like me and love your steel baby with all your heart, you might be inclined to think it’s worth more than it is. For some perspective, check out what similar used vehicles (mileage, options, warranty) are going for at dealerships around your area. Obviously, there’s markup involved – used cars are where the money is made – so factor that into your expectations.
I opted to ask for the Private Sale Value (at Good Condition), understanding that even at this price, the dealership stood to make at least two thousand dollars from its resale. I had taken excellent care of my car and I did not budge on this.
6. Be prepared to discuss adding options.
The “closer” will try to talk you into added extras. Roadside assistance. Longer warranties. Tires for life. These are not necessarily without value. I opted to raise my monthly payment in order to have a seven year, bumper-to-bumper warranty. I opted out of the Lowjack. Do what feels right. Again, they want your money. But so long as what they’re selling is something you want, everyone’s happy.
Okay. That’s it. Any questions? I kinda hope not, because I’m pretty sure that’s the extent of my vast and amazing car buying knowledge. Best of luck!
November 2nd, 2010
I felt a small twinge of panic flutter up in my stomach as I drove off the lot at the dealership last night, leaving my car behind. I still feel a little bad about it. Totally high on new car smell, but still bad.
Ahem.
Until Sunday afternoon, the idea of trading in my little Jetta had not even registered on my List of Things To Do Ever. Not one to be lured by shiny new gadgets or to constantly upgrade (I still have and use the iPod mini I bought in 2004), I was perfectly satisfied with the first car that was ever all mine. See, I get really attached to things. I happen to think this is a fine trait and that it should make the gadget loving Boy feel very secure about our impending marriage, but that is neither here nor there.
After a discussion about upcoming car-related expenses, The Dork Lord and I came to a very swift awakening: we could not afford both the wedding and the necessary car upkeep. Car or wedding? Choices, choices! Were this any other six month period in the history of us, we’d have let sleeping dogs lie (despite my growing worries over the unpredictable and uncontrollable expenses associated with cars whose bumper-to-bumper warranties have passed expiration).
As it was, we settled on checking out our options. If it made financial sense, we would proceed. If not, well, then not.
After a quick negotiation refresher course from my brother, I walked into the dealership with four numbers written on a card: what I would pay for a new car, what I wanted for my trade-in, the APR I was expecting and just how much a monthly payment on this new, super-warrantied, my-kids-are-gonna-hate-me-’cause-I’m-gonna-make-’em-drive-it vehicle should be. And after a dutifully weak first offer by the sales manager, some raised eyebrows and rather specific suggestions on my end, I got what I wanted. Like, to the dollar.
“I’m comfortable with this,” I said, sliding the paper back across the desk. Comfortable? Ha! I’m AWESOME! Then the manager was so quick with a firm handshake I thought, “Damn! I shoulda been awesomer!” but he was happy, I was happy and all there was to do was sign sixty seven documents and empty the remaining few personal belongings from my now former car.
It felt weird. Really weird.
Am I thrilled with the new car and its intoxicating smell and eighty-four months of peace of mind? You betcha! Knowing that I’ll have a car payment for two years longer than I’d originally planned doesn’t even faze me, I’m so lulled by the warranty’s siren song. And I can’t wait to figure out all the new buttons and gadgets. Hold on, let me call you on the hands-free.
The funny thing is, and this should not surprise me, I keep thinking of my car, sitting there in that dark parking lot all alone and saying to myself, “Man, I hope they sell her to someone nice.”
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