Sisbarro Dealerships
Reviews and Complaints
Greenville, South Carolina
Sisbarro Lied and Ripped Me Off Three Times!
In the eighteen (18) months since I bought a used Subaru Forester from Sisbarro Auto, in Las Cruces, NM – my third vehicle purchase within one month from this dealer - I have had nothing but trouble. I have poured over five-thousand dollars($5K) into repairs and there is still more needing to be done. Were this a case of one bad car, a lemon, then I would be justifiably upset. However, given my history with this dealership, it is neither surprising nor unexpected that once again, I was sold a bill of goods.
In June of 2010, I went shopping for a vehicle , and was referred by a local garage to a tent sale event in town. I drove there and found myriad used vehicles. A salesman named of Fred Byers approached me and immediately started the hard sell on a worn and worn-out Jeep, whose doors did not even close properly, and was missing a few windows. He offered everything he could to get me to take a test drive, but I demurred and said I would continue looking. As I walked away, he did, too, in another direction.
I came upon a white 1999 Nissan Altima GXE , which he insisted was a Maxima, contrary to the rear end model designation. (It was about fifteen minutes after the papers were signed that he realized his mistake, saying, "I wondered why the title said Altima." As always, great salesmanship.) It was a priced affordably and I took it out for a test drive. Some minor problems were evident, such as there being a bag of marijuana in the glove box. Why would a professional auto dealership not make a thorough search of a vehicle before selling it? Other than the ***, the few minor, visible defects were used to bring the cost down further. I said I would take it and we started the paperwork.
The next day, I brought the car to my mechanic who, after placing the car on a lift, informed me that there were so many items needing repair or replacement, he wanted to meet the salesman personally. He also told me that repairs would run well over $5,000 and that it was not worth it to keep the car. Understandably, I was in shock, as I took to the phone and started calling anyone I could think of at the dealership. When I reached the finance manager, I related what was happening and he was upset. He immediately contacted the salesman and directed him to come and pick me up.
When Fred Byers arrived, coffee in hand, he was none to keen to even exit his vehicle, let alone enter the shop. But the mechanic insisted and Fred took a cursory look, neither knowing nor caring what was being said, even as it was being emphasized how unsafe and unroadworthy the car was. I then got into his vehicle and we drove back to the tent sale. After much time walking among the many vehicles, I found a 2000 Blue Chevrolet Cavalier, seemingly in good condition. Fred told me the price was the same – wasn't I lucky? – and we took it out for another test drive. This time, no illicit substances were found in the vehicle, and it seemed to drive well. I insisted my mechanic take a look at it before any paperwork was done, but Fred balked at this, until I threatened to personally go to the dealership.
(Interesting side note: Fred Byers, the tent sale salesman told me how dealerships around the country would "import" out of town salespeople so as to not disrupt their own, permanent showroom staffs. Thus Fred, who hails from NNNM – Nowhere Near New Mexico, was conveniently gone when the real troubles occurred.)
The upshot of this purchase was that within several days, the Chevy died in a friend's driveway, hundreds of miles from my home. On a Friday evening. The next morning, I started calling Sisbarro and, to their thin amount of credit, was contacted that morning by a high-ranking individual who seemed sincerely concerned about my plight. Offers were made, including sending a tow truck to retrieve the car and me. I declined that, as I did not wish to be at someone else's mercy on a long ride with my valuables exposed to who knows what. Consequently, Sisbarro said they would reimburse me for repairs done to the car where I was.
When I finally returned, it became apparent that no one in the actual showroom had any idea what was being said or done at the tent sale. The owner, Lou Sisbarro, made an appearance, glad-handed me and went on his way. The marketing manager, who seemed to be the only real gentleman I met during this entire ordeal, made sure I was put up in a local motel and promised that all expenses related to this fiasco would be taken care of. Which they were. So again, to their not very reliable credit, this much was done, thus assuaging me somewhat. However, I still had no car and was staying in a motel, a long way from home.
I was introduced to the sales manager, Mike Tourtillot, a tall, lanky mid-westerner who reminded me in both look and character of an amalgam of M*A*S*H (TV) characters Hawkeye & Henry Blake, at once both conniving and bumbling. He was told the problem, told to satisfy me and I was left in his hands. Unfortunately.
During my several days at the dealership, the marketing manager again came to my aid, by giving me the keys to his own dealer-provided car for the duration of my stay. Why he wasn't running the place is a mystery. Maybe his service was so good, it would have blown *** in the sentiment of Used Car Dealers being sleazy. I was then urged by Mike Tourtillot to visit the other Sisbarro showrooms in town and see if there were any vehicles meeting my standards, which meant that they would run for more than one week without a tow truck's assistance. I looked for several days, until finally, while sitting in Mike Tourtillot's office one afternoon, he said to me, "There's your car.", and pointed out the window to a red Subaru Forester which had just pulled in.
He told me that the woman who owned the car did not drive much and always came in for servicing, thus the car was in good shape. I asked to see a Carfax report, which he declined. I then asked to have the car inspected by my mechanic, and have Sisbarro pay for, to which he also said no. He said he would have one of his own mechanics examine the car, which struck me as a wee bit of conflict of interest. The, on my own, I found that the brakes were very low, the tires worn and several items needed repair, including the rear window washer; the cruise control; the left front fog lamp; and the clock-temperature display. The cigarette lighter was broken and, though I do not smoke, I do use a GPS unit, and thus needed the outlet.
While he grudgingly agreed to the new tires – and that, in and of itself is a story to be told – he declined to pay for a $5 socket replacement! I simply went past him, asked a staff mechanic to install it and that was that. The brake job never materialized, nor did any other repairs. As for the tires… I like Discount Tire, a large chain out west with great customer service. Mike Tourtillot said no. He said he would have his contracted tire person replace the tires. When I told him I wanted the Discount Tire warranty, he said "It's the same thing, and you can still go to Discount Tire with this warranty." Which was, of course, a lie. I learned this the first time I pulled into a Discount Tire, in Oklahoma. The manager there was as gracious as any other person I have ever met at all other of their stores and took care of my needs. However, Mike Tourtillot lied, again.
He said the car would cost me $5,000. I said that I wanted to pay less, based on all the *** I had already endured. He said no, giving me his sob story about having to pay for the tires, the cigarette lighter – he found out, eventually and the $5 rankled him – and his entire life story. Also, I complained that at the tent sale, a real, honest-to-goodness – well, honest is a stretch, but… - Sisbarro sales manager had refused to even look at my original trade-in and I wanted it put toward the Subaru. He said fine, it was worth $500.00 and thus the Subaru cost me… $5,000. I still do not know how that worked out.
I was tired, physically and otherwise. The past several weeks had drained me, in the summer heat of southern New Mexico. The emotional drain had enervated me to the point where I just wanted to get out of that situation. I did the necessary paperwork, said my goodbyes and left, finally. Now the real adventure began. I always thought that Subaru was a superior brand of vehicle, and it felt fine at first, confident, stable. But then, little things started becoming evident, such as the aforementioned rear, washer, the display, etc. Within two weeks, I paid a mechanic to repair the washer. The clock display was too expensive and was not vital at the time.
However, as time went by, other things began to happen, such as a burning smell from the engine, and an unstable feeling when turning. When I brought the car in for an oil change and tire rotation, the shop manager showed me numerous problems with the car, including cracked wheel bearings, leaks and other maladies. And those low brakes. This was less than 12 months after purchase. I care for my vehicles, including regular oil changes. But there was no way for me to have known about problems which were brewing well before I ever set eyes on the car. And I have Mike Tourtillot to thank for that; for his refusal to have the vehicle inspected.
So now, eighteen months and $5,000 later, I have hard decisions to make, again. And what compounds matters is that after all the trouble he gave me during the process of trying to buy a third car from his dealership, Mike Tourtillot, who knew full well how unhappy I was – and am – with him and the entire situation - continued to email me happily, jauntily, as if we were old friends, and all was okay with the world. He was told to stop, but this did not deter him, until a complaint was made with the honorable marketing manager, who must have gotten the message through Mike Tourtillot's thick skull.
My message? Avoid Sisbarro Auto Group, avoid Mike Tourtillot and insist on Carfax, a mechanic's exam and anything else to protect yourself. I have no faith, whatsoever, in Sisbarro or its employees. And there is more.
Subsequent to my purchase of the first two vehicles, I looked into Sisbarro's policies. I was told by a Sisbarro employee – not in sales – that Sisbarro routinely and illegally sold vehicles meant for the Cash For Clunkers program, and that I had been sold at least one, if not two, of those, indicating the Nissan and the Chevrolet. I was told that the tent sale provided a convenient pretext for unloading these undesirable vehicles which had been destined for the scarp yard.
Furthermore, I was told, unsolicited, that on at least two occasions, out of town sales persons, had made untoward advances toward female customers during test drives, when the alleged victim was trapped in a moving vehicle. Now, these two allegations have never been proven, but it seems mysterious that employees of a company would be relating such things to a stranger unless there were kernels of truth floating about.
So again, my message is to save yourself grief, trouble, problems and perhaps becoming both stuck and out of luck, by having do dealings with Sisbarro Auto Group and Mike Tourtillot.
Las Cruces, New Mexico
Sisbarro ripped me off, twice
Sleaze-barro, perhaps…©B.Y. ben-Meir
Recently I purchased a car from a local dealer, called Sisbarro, in southern New Mexico. Actually, to be truthful, I bought two cars, and only four days apart, from the same salesperson, no less. No, my ship is still mired in the sands of the southwest and did not yet come in, nor did I find a bag of money lying at my front door one morning. No, it was more mundane than that. My previous ride had permanently petered out and thus I was forced to make the choice between venturing out into the world sans vehicle, or subjecting myself to the time-honored tradition of being treated like a combination Nazi war criminal-illegal alien-Democrat. Figuring it was in my best interest to get a car ASAP "" who wants to walk around the desert, right? "" I headed over to my mechanic to ask his advice.
I trust this man, and he comes highly recommended by all who use his shop, so I saw no need to doubt his referring me to Sisbarro. In fact, he said that Sisbarro was having some kind of amazing tent sale and I should definitely drop his name, so that the sales staff would know I was serious and from whence I came. I tarried not at all, as my then-current ride was in dire need of a rifle blast to the head gasket. I found the big, white tent and the saw the many sun-baked sales people basically sitting around waiting for suckers, er, uh… customers! I parked, got out and proceeded to shop. I was alone for a glorious two point six seconds before an over- eager salesman "" I'll call him Ted "" came over and began speaking to me from behind. I honestly thought it was another customer, as he said things like, "Real beauty, that one, I'd buy it myself" and such banter. Silly me, thinking he was being friendly.When I finally realized this was to be my guide through the wonderful world of Sisbarro "" what a great name, just rolls off the tongue, y'know "" I got down to business. I told him up front what I wanted and what I expected. As for the latter…
It is no secret that there is no, I repeat N-O, customer service left in this country these days. None, nada, zero. Corporate America, which has never been keen on real customer care to begin with, has become more enamored with the bottom line more than Bill Clinton loves pulled pork. So, when I say I told him what I expected, that means I said, in no uncertain terms, that I understood he was there to sell, and selling means lying and subterfuge and all the attendant philosophies which go with selling. So I asked him, nicely, not to lie to me and not to hard sell me and to TRY to remember that I am a customer. This appeal went very well, except for the fact that it fell on deaf ears.
I first stopped at a Jeep, a somewhat late model, but abused more than Dubya trampled the Constitution. No windows, broken parts, doors that would not open, then would not close. A real beauty and "" my alert sales-friend said "" a "steal" at somewhere between an annual mortgage payment and a blood oath. When I pointed out all the items wrong with the vehicle, he merely said that they were "repairable". Not wishing to press the point, as the heat index was already nearing well-done, I continued to search the dusty lot. I browsed about ten minutes, and then, I saw it. IT. The ONE. Or, more precisely, exactly what I had wanted initially, had it actually been in working order and roadworthy.
It was a 1999 White Nissan Altima, sitting there in the sun, without a care in the world. Now, Sisbarro evidently knows a thing or two about marketing, "˜cause this car had NO signs, labels or anything resembling a sales sticker attached to it. Sisbarro knows how to play hard to get, yes siree, they do. AND, never mind that until AFTER the sale was made, some five hours later, my salesperson thought it was a Nissan SENTRA, even though ALTIMA was imprinted on the rear of the vehicle and he was the one selling it, writing it up, etc. Sisbarro obviously looks far and wide for the sharpest tacks available, you betcha. So then… Ted gets the key and urges me to test drive it, all the while ignoring my questions: "How much is it?" and "How much is it?" Truth is, he said, "I don't know." Hmm… I asked when he might come into that much needed information and he took off like a polemicist heading for a Tea Party, ostensibly to "find out."
I cooled my heels "" standing in the oven that passes for southern New Mexico, my heels may have been the only cool area of my body "" while Ted rallied the troops and found me a price. He said, with a straight face, "I can let you have this for forty-nine-ninety-five." Eleven years old, with much mileage on it, and here was Ted, whom I just met, doing me a great favor. I LOVE this country! And Sisbarro loves it, too. I think. Anyway, I insisted he come with me on my test drive, and off we went. The bucking and grinding did not seem to bother him, nor did the fact that the driver's side view mirror was literally falling apart. (It would come off in my hand later that day, while I was driving.) We did a circuit and returned to Sisbarro City, where honesty is… yeah, whatever.
I said I liked it but then proceeded to walk around the car, with Ted, pointing out ALL the flaws, or at least those I could see. (I've not used my X-ray vision in some time, and the cape is in mothballs.) He said, "Make me an offer", which I did, and with which he scurried back to a trailer to "Ask the sales manager." Right. The game had begun in earnest. The sales manager "" let's call him…. Todd - not deigning to come out into the light of day, lest he either melt (Vampire reference) or soil himself with the massive hoards of customers bent on obtaining good transportation "" sent back a message with Ted that my offer was too low, and here was a counter offer. I remarked that Ted should have worn sneakers, as he was getting quite the workout, being courier between the high and mighty sales manager and the abuse-enjoying customer. Sisbarro sure has the classic system down to a tee.
Eventually we settled on a price, and Todd condescended to come outdoors and mix with the great unwashed. I figured out who he was by those who genuflected as he passed their way. I asked him, with Ted standing right there, about a trade in on my current car. He looked at it, turned up his nose and said, "It would be better if you put it on Craigslist, or donated it." Nice. Sisbarro is all about the charity thing. Yay Sisbarro! I went back to the paperwork with which Ted presented me, forked over my hard-earned money and was on my way. Almost.
I drove across the street, literally across the street, to get gas. I took out the key, went inside the store, paid the clerk, returned to the car, pumped the gas and… found I could not re-enter the car. Seriously. Yes, I had locked the doors, but I had the key, which, conveniently, would not fit the locks. ANY of the locks. At all. I then proceeded to walk "" which I had been trying precisely to avoid, which was I why I bought a car "" back across the street, to Sisbarro: Valley of the Damned, where I found Ted, related my recent woe and asked him to HELP ME, PLEASE!!! Which he did, G-d bless him. He walked with me, back across the street, to my very secure vehicle and FORCED THE KEY INTO A LOCK. Now, why hadn't I thought of that? I'll tell you why: 1). I ain't that smart. 2). Sisbarro hires only the sharpest tacks around. C'mon, I already told you that. Pay attention.
We again parted company, with Ted nicely declining my offer for a ride back across the street. Now, what did he know that I did not? I took off for the journey home, about a twenty-minute trek which is normally uneventful. Except this time, I noticed that I kept having to slink lower and lower to use my side view mirror. Just in time I realized that it was about to become pavement fodder, and caught it as it slipped the surly bonds of the door and almost touched the roadway. Interesting concept, component cars. Boy, Sisbarro might be onto something here! Yay, Sisbarro.
I got home, exhausted more from the game playing than anything else, and treated myself to talking to my dog, who seems more inclined to give me straight answers than Sisbarro's minions. I phoned my insurance agent, made the proper arrangements and, though it had been a hard fought battle, felt at ease. I had a car. A good car. A car that wasn't falling apart. A… fantasy, to be sure.
A couple of days later, I went back to my mechanic and presented my new ride, with the admonition, "Please fix stuff." I handed him the mirror, and mentioned, too, that there was some shake and shimmy on the highway. He said he would put his best man on it, and I sat down in the waiting area. I had sat for less time that it had taken Ted to jam the non-working key into the lock at the gas station, when I was called into the bay by the mechanic. Said he needed to show me "some things". Indeed. What he found neither startled nor shocked me. What he found nearly put me into a catatonic state. I knew Sisbarro was generous, but what they gave me, in the form of alleged roadworthy transportation has to serve as a warning to anyone who thinks they can "˜trust' salespeople.
The mechanic started off by showing me two tires which were about to separate from the main body, perhaps while I was driving. Lug nuts and other goodies were "sheared" off. The oil leak was creating a nice slickness on the undercarriage, so much so that I could simulate ice skating, were I in the mood, sans tires. The entire list would take up more time than I spent actually buying the car, so, suffice it to say, it was bad. Very bad. How bad, one might ask? Bad to the tune of between $4,000 to $5,000. Which was way more than I paid for the sled. As I had neither whiskey nor a Valium with me, I sat down and tried to breath. I was so discomfited that I could not even utter the word Sisbarro, those wonderful folks who had unknowingly "" it must have been unknowing, "˜cause who would ever do such a thing, right? "" sold me this… thing. It wasn't, however, completely without merit. When we took it for the test drive, Ted had rummaged around the glove box and found "" lo and behold "" MARIJUANA! Tucked neatly inside some of the paperwork from the previous, if somewhat felonious owner. (I suppose Sisbarro people are way too busy to properly clean a new acquisition, thus our find of ***.)
Trying vainly to recover from the disbelief of being simultaneously cheated and almost killed or injured for the privilege, I phoned a manager at Sisbarro, who, shockingly, was actually compassionate, concerned and courteous. He promised to send over my salesperson straight away and bring me back to Sisbarro's lovely, albeit slick and maybe a wee bit corrupt desert get-away, so I could pick out another death trap, er, uh… used car. Darn, I hate when that happens. Anyway, forty-five minutes later, there's Ted, in a nice, new SUV, with a fresh cup of coffee and smile, which, unfortunately, I removed, by showing him the car he sold me, up on the lift, dripping oil and reeking of a laundry list of needed repairs. He was in a hurry "" you know how it is when you got to get out there and sell, sell, sell, no matter what the consequences "" so I did not dawdle beneath my nearly new now-former ride. I grabbed my stuff and off we went, the Sisbarro adventure continuing.
Back at the lot, all the lovely Sisbarro salespeople greeted me with such warmth that I nearly forgot I had been ripped off and perhaps nearly maimed, or killed. Their joking did me a world of good: "Liked the car so much, decided to come back a git another?!" Whoo, boy, that's a hoot. Those Sisbarro folks sure know how to have a good time. I explained to anyone willing to listen that my purchase was in such bad shape, the mechanic had advised me against even getting into it again, much less driving it away. The term Death Trap seemed to fill the air. And so, I began again the process of kicking up dust as I shuffled among Sisbarro's sand-covered inventory, under the canopy of a blazing New Mexico summer sky.
To his credit, this time, Ted did his best, even driving me to a motel parking lot, where we cruised by a newly acquired Cadillac I think I once saw on a Seinfeld episode, telling me it was a beauty, and a steal. Sure, the gas mileage is just below that of a riding mower, but hey, at least the paint wasn't peeling! Yay, Sisbarro! I demurred, nicely, and said maybe it as time for me to move on, take a refund and go elsewhere. But Ted, staunch defender of consumer rights, would not hear of such a thing. So he drove me to a Volkswagen dealer. I am not sure of the correlation, but maybe he was just trying to kill time. Anyway, I found nothing there to my liking and so back we went, to Sisbarro's Death Valley East, and I stress the Death part.
I knew Ted's patience was wearing thin, as he kept finding "˜errands' to run, always with the admonition, "Take your time and look around." Now, truth be told, I had spent so much time walking this barren desiccated slice of real estate festooned with balloons that I could have started hawking cars. Heck, I was considered a sucker, so why couldn't I convince a similar sad sack to take pity on me and buy a vintage POS? Should have thought of it sooner. Anyway…
I finally spied a little beauty in the back, this one with proper hardware and all four tires intact! It was blue, the same color I was feeling, so I figured it was fate, or at least the nearing of the end of the curse that brought me there in the first place, to Sisbarro and their wonderful… oh, you get the picture. Ted saw my eyes widen as I perused the cobalt-colored cruiser and he immediately urged me to test drive it. I figured that he figured that maybe, if the current luck were to hold out, just maybe something else would befall me, since the wheels were in good shape, and I maybe, perhaps, I would not be coming back in one piece, if at all. But then I thought, nah, Ted and his wonderful employer, SISBARRO, would never, ever wish a customer ill. Right?
Once more, I drove the circuit, this time paying attention to… well, pretty much everything, and fully appreciating the fact that all the mirrors stayed intact this time around. Except for the little detail of the mileage "" nearing somewhere in the vicinity of a trip to the moon, literally "" it seemed fine. Almost. I am no master mechanic, but in viewing the engine, I could spy another dreaded leak, along with a deposit of corrosion near the battery. I dolefully asked Ted if I could take the car to my mechanic before purchasing it this time around. Not only was happy to allow me this perk, but the alacrity with which he handed me back the key suggested he would rather spend a couple of hours basking in the bakery of a Sisbarro sunbath than to have to put up with me any longer. And so, off I went.
This time around, while the news was not nearly as dreadful as before, there were repairs needed before the car was truly roadworthy, including the patching-up of another oil leak. It seems to me that Sisbarro and oil leak must be synonymous. In fact, I think I heard a news report the other day, in which BP's trouble in the Gulf of Mexico was referred as "another Sisbarro". When I asked for a rough estimate on the price of the mending, two mechanics differed, enough so to make me queasy. But I was assured that the repairs would be sufficient to keep me safe on the road, as long I did not drive near a Sisbarro property. And so, there it was…
I picked up my car a couple of days later and was fairly pleased to learn that the cost was much lower than I had been told, and dreaded. I paid my bill, climbed into my newly-though-obstacle-laden acquired chariot and took off. Of course I was hesitant as I headed out into the desert, on a several hour excursion, but the car performed admirably. Almost. As I drove over a rough section of pavement, not two miles from Sisbarro's main showroom, the glove box crashed open, the locking mechanism completely disintegrating. Maybe the car was having convulsions at the site of its former home. Y'think?
AFTERMATH "" Sisbarro rates less than 0
Humor aside, this was truly one of the lousiest customer service encounters I have ever had the displeasure to experience. And not just because I was lied to and sold a car that was more than a potential death trap. But because I asked, nicely NOT to be lied to, to be treated somewhat fairly and was ignored. Also, because of the rude, disrespectful, discourteous and disgusting manner in which I was treated by Todd, the sales manager, whose aloofness and arrogance were on full display throughout the times I was present on the lot. I was told by my salesman time and again that the sales manager was "unavailable" to speak with customers. Yet I kept seeing a continuous procession of customers entering the building where he stationed himself. (Some excuse will be given, of course.)
Furthermore, his complete lack of respect for me was in full evidence when, while sitting with my salesman and discussing the second purchase, Todd interrupted, without so much as a "Please excuse me", and told Ted that he was wanted in the office immediately. Ted took off like the proverbial bat out of Sisbarro's and I was left at the picnic table, alone, bewildered and totally lacking any understanding of why I was being treated that way. Almost no understanding. And then it occurred to me, and it all made perfect sense. I am Jewish. And, one might ask, what difference does that make, and how would someone else know that information? Well, I'll tell you.
While I am not an Orthodox Jew, I do normally wear a yarmulke, sometimes beneath a hat. I may or may not keep the hat on, but my head is usually covered, keeping in line with Judaic tradition. Now, there are not many of us Semites in these parts, and hardly any who wear traditional garb of any type, so when "˜we' show up someplace, that's big news. And, truth be sadly told, this country is still a hot bed of racism, bigotry and anti-Semitism, even it is tacit and not talked about openly. So, was this the reason I was treated like a piece of dirt by the sales manager, Todd? Since I was on the receiving end of the conduct, my perspective says, Yes. Of course, Sisbarro and those involved will deny this and swear oaths up and down that they treat everyone the same way, which really is a pity, when you think about. So maybe I was treated in the same nasty manner with which Sisbarro treats Hispanics and women and *** persons and people of color and anyone who is not white, male and buying the newest, most expensive vehicle on the lot. Something to think about.
When Ted returned several minutes later, I was already walking up to Todd, ready to give him a piece of my rapidly working mind. While I am not often given to invective, I was close, but remembered something my late mother taught me: "Wait. Their turn will come." And so I approached him, trying my best to remain professional and somewhat responsible in my language. He turned to me, offered up a humorous comment on a vehicle which had just been brought in and then realized that I was not laughing. Instead, I was chastising him for ordering my salesman to tend to other business while we were in negotiations. He pleaded ignorance "" this one I could believe "" and hemmed and hawed his apologies. By the sound of this, I could tell that he did not have the benefit of a proper upbringing, as did some of us. And then there is Ted.
Ted's main squawk was his "over twenty years in the business", which is kind of wan, when one goes through such a mess as this. Twenty years pushing cars, and he couldn't spot a piece of trash which should not have been on the lot in the first place? I later learned, from more than one source, that the first car, the Altima was slated for auction and never should have been offered at all. Very nice, Go Sisbarro.
I told him about the oil leaks and he offered me a free oil change. I said fine, give me your card and I will come in. Of course, he had no card, and why would he? After all, this was a big sale over a period of numerous days, and why would a senior salesperson need business cards? It took me literally three trips to finally get his card, with the promised oil change. And his comment when he finally handed me the much sought after card? "Well, he did show up!" (sic)
I have taken stock of everything, now that it appears to be done. I have a vehicle, for which I was charged way more than it is worth, no title as yet and it is way past time for that to have arrived, a repair bill of several hundred dollars, a busted glove compartment, and the promise of a free oil change.
Oh, yeah… and the worst taste in my mouth in quite some time.
Maybe Sisbarro is not the worst of their ilk, but they certainly are heading for that title.
When contacted for comment on the foregoing article, no response was forthcoming.
Addendum: Yesterday afternoon, a woman from Sisbarro phoned my home and left a message that my title was ready to be picked up. She was asked to please send an email as well, confirming this and telling me her name and where to come. No email was ever received, another indication of NO CUSTOMER SERVICE.
THIS ARTICLE IS ©2010 B.Y. BEN-MEIR MAY NOT BE REPRODUCED, TRANSMITTED, PUBLISHED OR OTHERWISE USED WITHOUT EXPRESS WRITTEN PERMISSION OF THE AUTHOR.
Albuquerque, New Mexico
Sisbarro Dealerships lied to me and deceived me!!
This dealership is completely dishonest. I was sold a Hummer, which on most occasions does not run.
I brought up the complaint to the salesperson who sold me the vehicle. His name is Martin Torres. Please Do Not trust him. He is lying and deceitful.
So when I brought up the complaint he laughed and said that I needed to take the Hummer to the store that installed the alarm in it. Umm What!! I was never told that there was and after market alarm in it. Then he actually perseeds to tell me that I have selective hearing.
Um no!! Clearly he already knew this alarm malfunctions. He had only told me there was and after market backup camera on it. So later on down the road to nowhere conversation day in and day out.
I asked him if he made an appointment to take the vehicle to the alarm store. He said nope. Then says you dont need an appointment. Which in fact I already knew he did have to make an appoitment because I verified it with the alarm store.
Here he was lying again. Then perceeds to tell me that it is only to show me how to use the backup camera, nevermind the fact the alarm completely malfunctions. Which the alarm store verified. Sisbarro is refusing to pay for these malfunctions.
And I was also told that a good reason, by a mechanic, for the hummer not running properly is because the motor could be on its way out the door. This subject was also addressed with Martin Torres. I told him this Hummer seems to have a loss of power and is making a knocking sound. He says, no no its seems as though it has a loss of power because its a heavy vehicle.
and he actually perceeds to turn the volume up on the radio so I cant here where the sound is coming from. He says just never mind that. I cant believe it. Then theres the issue where this lying salesperson is trying to sell me this hummer at about $9,000 above kelley blue book value.
Only reason being with the price hike is that this guy doesnt even know what model he is selling. I had to tell him what model he was selling. Unbelievable. Then after 3 days of asking for a carfax report, he shows me and autocheck which didnt match the vehicle.
And he tries to convince me that it is in fact carfax. Give me a break. Hes treating me as though im a complete ***.
Here it is just a few months owning it and can rarely drive it. These people clearly dont understand that there is a sinkhole beneath their business and do not care about the customer.
I COMPLETELY AGREE with you.
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Wow I actually read your entire story after considering going to this dealership today as they are one of the only dealerships open on Sundays but after reading what sounds like a nightmare, I will definitely NOT go anywhere near this place! Thanks for your review and I'm sorry you had to go through all of that.
Apparently writer Anibus knows everything. If so, he should help us reduce debt, poverty and hunger.
Since he knows everything about this person's business, why is Anibus wasting his time writing, when he could be helping? Maybe his mother did not teach him properly.
It is easy to make comments when one is ignorant.
So why go back and buy 3 if you hated them? Mike T at autoworld is a horrible person but if you knew this and went back you are to blame.
Anibus apparently did not read the posting.
Maybe he cannot.