The Audition

I’ve been auditioning bike shops around town during my lunch hour.  I have a basic set of criteria: location, selection, reliability, and personability. There are several shops in the area and I have enjoyed dropping in and getting the feel for each.  Some have been close, personable, but lacked selection.  Others have been close with selection, but lack that personal connection.  Recently, I stopped by a local shop that I had heard was a really nice facility.  It had an automatic sliding glass door that you walk through, rows of bikes on the left and rows of fitness equipment on the right.  The selection was good and the location was acceptable. 

I was particularly interested in this shop because it was one of the only ones in town that had a Cannondale CAAD 10 5 in my size (54) in stock.  I found the bike's glowing white frame in the lineup and before I could think about pulling it off the rack, a saleswoman (we’ll call her Diane) approached me. 

“What can I help you with?” she asked in more of a statement than question.

“I’m really interested in looking at your CAAD 10.  I’ve heard great things about the aluminum frame.”  I reply.  But, to make sure she knew that I wasn’t going to buy anything today I quickly added, “My wife is wanting to get me a new bike for Christmas so I thought I would give her a recommendation.”  This was mostly true.  I do want the bike for Christmas and my wife is on board with it.

Diane gives me a look up and down.  “Are you a runner?” She asks.  

I laugh.  “No not anymore.  Running and I had a falling out years ago.”  

Diane looks skeptical.  “What kind of a bike do you ride now?”

“I don’t have a bike now.  That’s why I’m looking for one.”

This question was a throw away and Diane returns to asking about running.  “When you ran, about how many miles a day were you running?”  

Okay.  This is red flag number 1.  “Um, it’s been over 10 years, but when I ran I was running about 7 miles a day.”

“Okay, so when you ride your bike, what type of biking do you do?”  

“Right I’m not biking.  I don’t have a bike.  Once again, that is why I’m here.”  

Diane has stopped making eye contact and is looking down and to her left as she continues to ask me questions.  I can tell she is trying to figure something out in her head, but I think it has little to do with what I am saying.

“So how do you want to use a new bike?”  

Is this a trick question? I feel like I’m in an interview to adopt and these questions are probing my competence as a potential new bike parent.  If I don’t pass, it’s “no bike for you!”  I have lots of reasons for wanting to ride.  Some are and are not any of Diane’s business. 

“Well, I would like to ride on the weekends and some during the week if I can.  Eventually I might like to work up to commuting, but definitely not right away.”

I see her eyes light up when I mention the word “commute” like a light coming on.

“Do you want to race?” She asks.

“Well, I definitely don’t have any plans right now.” 

“Good” she mumbles quietly.

Good?  Is that commentary on me or on what has been brewing in her head?  And with that, the interview is over.  

“I have the perfect bike for you!”  she exclaims, still adverting her gaze.

She marches me to the end of the line of bikes, right past the CAAD 10 that I expressed interest in, and she points out a Cannondale Synapse.

“This is the perfect bike for you, but first we need to see if it is the right size because we only have this one.”

Red flag number 2.  So I am beginning to see that Diane has no interest in showing me the bike that I want to see and every intent to get me to buy the Synapse.  Now, what are the chances that I am not going to be a “fit” for that bike?

She directs me to the measurement station.  I take my shoes off and stand on a platform with an adjustable wooden bar that I am instructed to pull up between my legs until it won’t go any further.  Once the bar is in place I am instructed to step down from the platform onto a slightly lower level. All of a sudden she starts singing with the Christmas music in the shop.  “This is my favorite song” she replies.  It’s “Santa Baby”  and she should be wishing for a better singing voice for Christmas in my opinion.  She sways her hips and gives a tug on her spandex -like leggings. 

“This should feel a bit uncomfortable” Diane says and then asks “Does it feel uncomfortable?”

Oh, this is uncomfortable in so many ways.  I squeak out an affirmative and wonder if this punishment is just softening me up for the sale.  

I’m instructed to step back up on the platform and I do with great relief.  Meanwhile, Diane is tapping something into the computer at the station.  She looks at my height and continues to tap away at the keys She instructs me to step off of the platform and put my shoes back on.

“Good news” she exclaims, “it’s the right size for you!”

Of course it is.  Why wouldn’t it be.  The thing could have been five sizes too large, but I have a feeling Diane would have insisted that the bike and I were a match made in heaven.  And besides, she used a computer and you can’t argue with a computer.

She walks me back over to the Synapse, pulls it off the rack and begins to tell me about all the wonderful features.  I tone her out and keep glancing back to the CAAD 10. Diane takes the bike and places the front tire between her legs to stabilize it and instructs me to climb on.  I throw a leg over the bike and mount the saddle.  

 

“Now” she says, “I need you to straighten your back more.  That will help on your commutes.” 

I straighten my back but note the reference to commuting.

“Now, I need you to bend your arms so you are not pushing the bike away from you.”

I think to myself that I’m not pushing the bike away, I’m reaching to grab the handlebars because the darn thing is just too big.  I try to bend my arms. 

“Does that feel uncomfortable at all?”  she asks as if the only answer could be “no, not at all.”  However, I feel like the machine is more of a mobile contortion device with the way she has me positioned.

“I do feel  a little uncomfortable like it is on the edge of my reach” I reply trying to be courteous.  All the time I can see the CAAD 10 from the corner of my eye.  I just know it would feel better than this.

“Well, we have a fitting service for just $200 after you buy the bike the will make any fine tuning adjustments you may need” Diane answers.

Red flag number three.  If I thought that she wasn’t listening before, I know she isn’t now.  She wants to sell this bike to me and she is not budging no matter what.  And on top of it all, she has the nerve to suggest dropping hundreds of dollars to “adjust” a bike that doesn’t fit to begin with.  At that moment I decide I am done with Diane and possibly done with the shop.

“Would you like to take a test ride?”  She pauses.  “I don’t know, it is a little cold, but you do have a fleece on so you will be okay.”  

Who are you?  My mother?  It is almost 50 degrees outside and IF I were really interested in this bike, a little cold would not stop me from test riding the bike. I reply with a simple “no thank you.”

 

She quickly tries to up the urgency of the sale.  “Well, tell your wife that she needs to act fast because we only have this one left and it is your size and everything.”

It takes everything thing I can do from laughing.  

“Let me get you my card for you to give to your wife and I will show her this bike and have her get it for you.”

She writes her name on a business card and hands it to me.

“I also put my hours on there because I’m not here every day.  She will get 10% off all accessories when she buys the bike so we can use that to get your rack.”

Rack?  What rack?  I’m so confused.

Diane continues unaware of my questioning look.  “Of course that bike is not set up for a rack so we will also need to get you an adapter so the rack will fit on.”  

It clicks.  She is trying to bundle a rack on the bike for carrying my belongings while I "commute."  It is clear that she got that one thing stuck in her head and never heard another word.  I politely accept the card and walk out of the shop disappointed, confused, and a little offended.  I also have a big dilemma.