Confessions of a Motor Trade Manager
Chapter 1 – Monday Mornings
I never wanted to manage a motor trade showroom. Yet here I am, sitting behind a frosted glass office door labelled “Sales Manager”, sipping burnt instant coffee as the sun crawls over the forecourt filled with gleaming cars.
My name’s Sean, but everyone calls me Boss. I’m 42, thinning dark hair slicked back, navy suit slightly too tight since I quit smoking. Mondays are always the same – sales guys arriving late with excuses about traffic or kids, cleaners already fighting over pressure washers, the accounts girl moaning about unpaid deposits.
I check my phone for her name. Ah yes – Chloe. The stunning customer from Saturday. Blonde hair, tight jeans, big blue eyes. She test-drove the Audi Q3 and flirted outrageously. My pants stirred at the memory.
Today, targets reset to zero, coffee tastes like dirt, but thoughts of Chloe keep me going.
Another day. Another confession.
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