Somehow on our recent Labor Day get away we were convinced that it would be a good idea to attend a timeshare tour. I know what you are thinking (or yelling at the screen right now) but I have never been on one and they offered $100 cold hard cash, for whatever reason we agreed.
The tour was described as a ninety minute event which included a free breakfast, not bad. Starts at 7:45 AM, cool we will be back at the room by 9:30 and at the pool to meet our friends by 10:00.
As soon as we walked in we knew we had made a dreadful mistake. It would have been better to forfeit the hundred bucks and chalk it up to a silly notion. Alas we convinced ourselves that at the very least it would be a learning experience. The room was packed with families. Most looked confident going in, as if they knew exactly what they were doing and we were the only novices who were in over our heads, a feeling that always makes my stomach sink.
Turns out the ninety minutes does not begin until your name is called by one of the smarmy, overly cheesy sales people. In our case an extra twenty minutes of standing around drinking coffee so bad others were actually pouring it out (not me, I’m no coffee snob).
Then I saw him enter the room. A young guy staring bewildered at the piece of paper in his hand. I could see him trying to sound something out under his breath. He did not know how to pronounce the name on the page, had to be us.
“Sharon and Jeff?” he called out weakly. Our names are actually Shereen and Geoff (pronounced Joff). He did not even attempt the last name.
I let him off the hook without drawing any attention to his total lack of effort to even use phonetics, which for our names does actually work.
His small talk was so well rehearsed that it flowed easily though he rarely made eye contact instead staring at my chest (which I imagine with the ladies does not go over so well). He is “a timeshare owner himself”. In hindsight I should have asked if he was subjected to the tour.
The first hour was okay; not too exciting not to painful. I finally had to prompt him about breakfast as our eleven month old had not eaten and neither had his thirty six year old father. It was then that I knew beyond the shadow of a doubt that we have voluntarily walked in to the anti-chamber of hell.
With the hope of breakfast dangling before us on a stick we trudged on like pack mules through the gallery of marketing materials and sales pitches for a further fifteen minutes. I prompt about food again, he moved us in to the dining area.
No highchairs for baby. No breakfast spread. Only a small tray of miniscule muffins and donut holes. Literally, miniature fare. Not even bagels. My stomach growled angrily.
My wife struggled to feed a cranky, hungry baby a dry mini-muffin. The tension grew. Wife has no more patience and begins to plan her escape. As she pleads her case to leave to go feed the baby the sales rep says that she could leave me there, go feed him and come back for me. This way we could get all of the paperwork signed and she would only have to add her signature.
Panic began to course my mind. Did he really believe I was going to buy a timeshare? Had I played the interested patron role too good?
The tension hit the ceiling, we had to leave. We were already invested for over two hours and so I told the guy straight, “we are not going to buy a timeshare today.”
After a few back and forth volleys he says, “If you are not going to buy one I can no longer assist you. Someone will come to close you out and you will have to take the shuttle back.” Keep in mind he drove us over in a stretch golf cart on a lovely scenic tour of the property.
I snapped back, “that’s great, we get a private ride over and now we have to walk half a mile to the shuttle stop?” He scurried off in to a back room.
This is where a timeshare tour is a lot like buying a car.
Another person comes out. Very friendly, very interested in us. I cut them off after ten or so questions and tell him, “no”. He is off to get someone to close us out.
Another smarmy cheese ball. Another series of questions. Another, “no”. Now he is off to get someone to close us out.
Another smarmy cheese ball. Another series of questions. Another, “no”. Now he is off to get someone to close us out. (No that is not an accidental repetition)
Now a kindly old lady comes out. She is retired from teaching after forty years and “does not in anyway sell timeshares”. What she does sell is a program that let’s you lock in the price quoted for one year. More questions. I finally had to get rude and point out that she is the fifth person who I have told “no” to. She groans and finally leads us to the check out counter to get our cash.
The shuttle takes another twenty minutes. The final insult was watching numerous sales people departing on now empty golf carts and driving directly in front of the shuttle loading area on their way back to exactly the same place we were heading on the shuttle.
We did make it to the pool by noon and were able to shake off the overwhelming feeling of violation that we carried from the morning (with the help of a refreshing pool and lots of drinks!) If you are unfortunate enough to find yourself in hell after you shuffle off this mortal coil you will spend eternity on a timeshare tour.
The moral of this story, only go on one of these if you are a genuine masochist or if you’re really are going to buy a timeshare.
Non-Entropic Musings 