Gorgeous ... and I can’t even give them away How hard can it be to sell a Ferrari in an area dripping with wealth and desire? Very hard, as John Evans discovers when he tries his hand at being a salesman at a Surrey dealership John Evans Published: 6 October 2013 Comment (0) Print (Dwayne Senior) ‘A FERRARI is like a beautiful woman — you must desire her. And when you start a Ferrari, you won’t be disappointed — it’s a beautiful womanfulfilling her promises.” No, these are not the words of Swiss Toni, the unctuous car salesman from television’s The Fast Show, but Luca di Montezemolo, Ferrari chairman and salesman-in-chief, speaking at a recent factory presentation. Twenty-five years ago I was selling Fiats and Mitsubishis for a living. Could heeding the wisdom of di Montezemolo be all I needed to rekindle those glory years, this time selling Ferraris? I’m going to find out by posing as a salesman at Maranello, a Ferrari dealer in Egham, Surrey. The showroom is in the middle of prancing horse country. Up the road are Virginia Water, and Sunningdale in Berkshire, with their pools and gated mansions. In the opposite direction is London’s wealthy western fringe running from Richmond to Kensington and Knightsbridge. Selling Ferraris? It should be a piece of cake. But first I need to look the part. I dig out my sharpest suit, shiniest shoes and best watch. A splash of David Beckham Homme and I’m ready to go. Howard Rose, Maranello’s dealer principal, welcomes me to the showroom. He must have been at di Montezemolo’s presentation because very quickly he’s telling me that the secret of selling Ferraris is establishing an intimacy with the client. “Get close to them,” he says. “We know they won’t give us a second thought outside the showroom but when they’re here, give them your complete attention.” Marcus Uzzell, his sales manager, briefs me on the type of customer I can expect to meet, and how I should handle them. “You can spot the serious ones; they’re clear about the model they’re interested in,” he tells me. “Just introduce yourself and start a conversation.” It’s important I act as if I am familiar with the customer’s world, and certainly not intimidated by it. “If they mention a restaurant, never say, ‘I couldn’t afford to eat there’, for example. Instead compliment the customer on their choice. They expect you to know and appreciate the luxuries they enjoy.” The same applies when we’re discussing figures. I should never be awed by the large sums. “What you might consider a small fortune is nothing to these people,” he says. (Dwayne Senior) The classic customer is male, he’ll be about 40, married with children and the owner of a software company. The family car is a Range Rover while he drives a Ferrari California, now a couple of years old and worth around £110,000. He wants to change it, possibly for a 458 Italia, so he’s dropped in to Maranello after a round of golf at Wentworth. Assuming he agrees terms, we’ll take a 20% deposit and the balance when he collects the car from the factory or dealer in around eight months’ time. It all sounds straightforward enough, so briefing over, I head to the new cars to begin my seduction. The cool coffee bar in the centre of the showroom will be my pond for the day; the place where, sipping a cappuccino, I’ll extend my rod — and wait. I try to imagine what my first customer will look like. He will be dressed-down expensively: sockless feet in leather loafers, washed-out Versace jeans, silk shirt and a natural tan. I’ll indicate an empty stool and suggest a coffee. Between sips he’ll tell me he’s interested in a new 458, possibly even the one in the showroom. He’s back from Barbados and before he returns to work — he runs a portfolio of companies, from an Italian shoe importer to a pizza chain — he wants to get this little matter out of the way. Back in the real world, it’s deadly quiet. I walk over to Rose and explain my fantasy. He laughs and says that, strangely, you do get customers matching that very description. “They are our equivalent of care in the community,” he tells me. “They are playing out a fantasy; escaping their humdrum lives for an hour or two. You’ll go through the whole sales process but when you ask them to sign and leave a deposit, they’ll pat their pockets and say they’ve left their credit cards at home. They’ll be genuinely sorry and they’ll promise to return with them. Then they’ll disappear.” Disheartened, I wander back to my station, pour a fresh cappuccino and consider the rewards a Maranello salesman can expect to enjoy. The dealership sells about 90 new Ferraris and 230 used cars of all makes every year. A top salesman can earn up to £65,000, including his £15,000 basic wage, but the average among the four salesmen is around £45,000. To make the grade, each of them must sell at least 60 new and used cars a year. “You’ll have to work hard for every sale,” Rose had told me before I started. “Our customers have to earn their money and much as owning a Ferrari is a dream come true they won’t give it up just like that.” The clock’s ticking and I’m beginning to think the bar may not be the best hangout when a fresh prospect appears. After my last encounter I’m wary of drawing the wrong conclusions from her expensive-looking tan, but judge she’s at least worth a latte. “I’ve just come back from Broadway,” Katherine Carroll tells me, settling down at the bar. “You’re starring in a show?” I ask, wide-eyed. “No!” she laughs. “We rented a house in Broadway, near Evesham [in Worcestershire], for the week.” I remember Rose’s words earlier in the morning: “Don’t appear to be a fool in front of the customer or give them the opportunity to correct you — it puts you on the back foot.” I try to re-establish control by asking the lady what she does for a living. “I make speciality cakes,” she says and shows me a picture on her mobile phone of a group of marzipan figures sitting around a cake. One has its top rolled up, revealing a pair of large marzipan breasts. I wonder how I’m going to steer the conversation from breasts to Berlinettas. I indicate the Ferrari F12 nearby and gamely ask if she’d consider modelling that in marzipan but at that moment Rose appears. Apparently the lady is a good friend and customer and they have business to discuss. Evans with cake maker and customer Katherine Carroll. He made a mistake by assuming she was in show businessEvans with cake maker and customer Katherine Carroll. He made a mistake by assuming she was in show business (Dwayne Senior) Ferrari doesn’t like to talk about how many cars it sells in Britain. But there is little doubt that despite the financial crash, the accountants in Italy are satisfied. According to industry figures, the company sold 463 cars in the UK 10 years ago. In 2007, just before the crash, it sold 657. Last year it sold 675. In fact, it is selling so many cars that di Montezemolo decreed recently the company will scale back production, building no more than 7,000 models this year, compared with 7,318 in 2012, in an effort to preserve exclusivity. Selling just one car is looking daunting for me, though. I survey the showroom again. A father and his young son are sitting in the cars and taking pictures. Thirty minutes ago, when I was a novice, I might have invited them to my bar for a chat and a choice of refreshments but even I know they’re what Rose calls “fans”. I need to meet a real Ferrari customer. Just then Marcus calls me over. Would I like to see a buyer collect his new car? On the low white leather seats in the vehicle handover area sits a young man poring over contracts and sales forms. He’s dressed-down expensively in brands I’ve never heard of, though a Ferrari salesman would never admit to this, of course. A few feet away stands his new car covered by a black sheet. The paperwork complete, Marcus announces it’s time for the big reveal. The customer, a successful software developer who designs programs for the stock exchange, excitedly takes out his iPhone to record the moment. Where’s Swiss Toni or di Montezemolo? “Taking delivery of a new Ferrari is like ...” Buying a Ferrari may be like making love to a beautiful woman, but this is one customer who’s more likely to need an espresso than Viagra. “I haven’t slept a wink — I’ve been that excited,” the man tells me, his eyes drinking in the white 458 Italia. He gets in and fires up the engine before easing the gleaming Ferrari into the A30 traffic. I return to the coffee bar with more of Rose’s wise words ringing in my ears: “Don’t waste time with the dreamers. Identify the serious prospects and convert desire to decision.” A Ferrari is like a beautiful woman —but selling one is like a lot of hard work too. Perhaps I could get a job at Starbucks.
Posted on: Mon, 07 Oct 2013 10:04:16 +0000
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