We went out to get a used car, birthday surprise, for our soon-to-be 16. So of course we didn't want to spend much money. It took hours at four places to find decently aged and priced cars. Finally found one, finally dickered on the price after many dramatic sob stories about how mad the manager was and what a terrible day he (the manager) was having and taking it out on the salesforce (Steam was coming out his ears, salesguy actually says to us), so we finally get to that magic price and THEN salesguy comes back with the "options" list they want us to accept, including nitrogen-filled tires for $79. It'll save wear and tear on your tires, he says. Uh, we get our tires rotated. We'll pass on the nitrogen. What we didn't ask was what happens if you have to add more gas to the tires at some point? Pinstriping? No. Windshield coating? No. God, when will this end? Stop it, we think but do not say. We are defiant in posture. No. No. No. After all that, where we refuse to buy any of the options, they pass us off to the finance guy, who wears much nicer clothing than salesguy. He tries to make funny, adorable small talk. Then he pulls out their extended warranty options. We never, ever buy extended warranties on cars, we say. He looks amazed. Never? Why? Is it the cost? Is it the value? We just don't do it, we say. They're a waste of money. The option he offers is well over $2600, and has things like etched glass security system as deterrent and lo-jack. The cost of the car, including tax, is only $9500. Nope, we say. Thanks, but no. So he does some refiguring. Listen guys, he says, we really recommend you get this pared-down warranty. Now we're down to $1800, stripped bare of the options like etched glass numbers, which, by the way, are already present on the windows. Deterrent achieved, if such deterrent means anything. Uh, we smile. We look sheepishly at each other. Then I look finance guy in the eye. We're going to pass. He frowns. He blanches. He's pissed. He can't believe we're passing this up. The average repair cost on a car is $1800, he sputters. How could you not see this? Listen, we smile. We've owned a lot of cars. Lots. Many. Many cars. We know how this works. We're not interested.  We're older. We're wise. Please stop. No. So tell me this, he says. Do you have a membership at Costco? Sams? Nope. We don't? Okay, do you know anyone who does? Anyone on earth, I ask. Yes, he nods. Yes, I say, I do know someone on the planet who goes to Costo. So he fiddles with figures and hands us a new printout. The cost is lowered. To around $1500. Bastard. He is. The industry is. If they could offer the extended warranty for $1500 to begin with, why play all the games? Why? We shake our heads. No. Sorry. We decline your offer. We are determinedly polite. We never tell anyone they are driving us crazy and wasting our time. But we are not caving.  Well fine, he says. But you'll have to sign here, (where he's scribbled a DECLINED EXTENDED WARRANTY and a pissed-off line and X. We both initial it. He hands us the final paperwork. You're done, he says. Then turns his back on us. We have to ask, where are we supposed to go now. He flounces his hand toward the showroom. No goodbye from him.

We know the system is rigged. We know times are hard. We didn't expect to be greeted as liberators. All we wanted was a car. No frills, no extras. No drama.