Singapore Girl, you’re a great way to fly. Singapore girl, you’re a great way to buy… a car, in this case. I don’t pay good money to fly Singapore Airlines just to hear a flight steward, however handsome/awesome he might be, ask: “Coffee, tea or mee?”
Similarly, if I were shopping around for a big-ticket item, I would rather be served by a “stewardess” (a pretty one, please). And the bigger the ticket, the prettier she has to be to justify my attention and, ultimately, my all-important downpayment.
So I’m shallow when it comes to buying cars, but there’s a practical side to this. Girls tend to be more meticulous than guys, so I can expect all that paperwork to be done properly. Girls also have better handwriting, so I can actually read some of the scribbles on that sales contract before I sign on the dotted line. And girls know more about housework than guys, so my spanking new car on delivery day is sure to be spanking clean, inside and out.
Then there’s my ego problem. I don’t want to feel less knowledgeable than the guy trying to sell me that new car. Gals, on the other hand, at least look less knowledgeable than me about cars in general and my kind of car in particular.
Put simply, salesgirls boost my automotive ego while salesmen bruise it. I need to feel empowered here, not underpowered. So give me Eve and let me play Adam.
But test-driving a hot car with an equally hot salesgirl has its dangers. There’s this Leng Kee legend of how a young chap crashed a Honda test car on a perfectly straight road because the short skirt and long legs riding alongside the gearstick drove him to distraction.
Singapore girl, you’re a great way to buy a car.
