Cancún, Timeshares and the Hard-Sell

I’m sure by now, pretty much every American over the age of sixteen has at least a passing understanding about timeshares and the selling pitches that people endure for the sake of scoring some free sh*t. You usually hear about them shortly after disembarking in some tropical part of the world.

My intro to Timeshare Hell began with my first trip to Disney World at the age of fourteen. I was psyched to be in Orlando (obviously), but shortly after we entered the lobby of our hotel, some dude approached us about a timeshare presentation that was happening that next morning. I was only half paying attention since the salesman’s focus was obviously on my dad instead of me, but the guy basically convinced him to exchange our carefree morning for this presentation.

Our reward? ..... A free breakfast.

Personally, I’d have been like, “F**k you AND your waffles” but what can I say? It wasn’t my call and my dad, knowing the value of a dollar, was more keen to save a few bucks if he could. As you can imagine, I spent that next morning completely bored out of my skull. I mean, Orlando is home to the Magic Kingdom, Epcot and all that cool stuff…. but nooooo, we get stuck looking at room after room of a place we would literally never, ever buy.

At the time, I didn’t quite understand what had happened but I remember thinking, “Wow, that was a whole lot of mind-numbing bullsh*t to endure just for a free breakfast?”

Fast-forward to late August of 2005. My wife and I decided to cash in our AA miles for a free round trip flight to Cancún, Mexico because money was tight enough to encourage us to save, but not so tight that we didn't feel like we should at least try to get the f**k outta Dodge for a few days of R & R.

Now, Cancún had been hit with a couple of tropical storms in the months prior to our trip, but they had no real problems bouncing back, so Cancún was clean and storm-free during our stay. However as I'm sure you'll recall, a couple of noteworthy hurricanes were gearing up to make history.

While we were in Cancún, Hurricane Katrina was approaching the Louisiana coastline to the point that, by the time we were set to fly back home, New Orleans had been destroyed. Ironically enough, me and the missus rang in the 2005 new year in New Orleans several months before the disaster hit. It was our first time there and, after leaving in January of 2005, we both agreed that it really wasn’t a city for us (…as we weren’t sex-crazed heathens or anything).

Our eyes had been on the news while we were in Cancún because our fear was that Katrina would hit us (…it never did). Ironically enough, Hurricane Wilma DID hit Cancún two months after we were there and basically pounded it to hell. Made me glad we didn’t make any major Cancún property investments, which leads me into my story.

Again, it's the end of August, 2005. We de-planed, went through customs, got our luggage and as we were wheeling our sh*t out, a snappy concierge-looking dude approached us. First it was, “Let me help you with your luggage,” to which I replied, “Thanks, but we’re good.” Then, he asked us if we had already made lodging accommodations to which I replied “yes” (…does anybody really go on vacation and NOT make reservations ahead of time for a place to stay?).

So, after asking us where we were staying, this guy whips out a handy-dandy Cancún map, locates our resort, then starts asking us what we had in mind to see while we were in Mexico. Before I even knew what’d hit me, he was offering all kinds of discounts for day trips, evening shows, restaurants, etc. Being the reluctant man that I can be from time-to-time, I (politely) asked, “What’s the catch?” to which he revealed the true catalyst behind his apparent magnanimity.

He wanted us to sign up for a time when we could devote 90 minutes to hearing a timeshare presentation.

All at once, the flashbacks hit me – flashbacks of Orlando with images of me walking on Astroturf for what felt like an eternity in a stupid-ass miniature golf course the Floridians had at their timeshare. I started to tell him that we weren’t interested, but my wife interjected. I then remembered that, hey, we’re a couple and she has every right to have a say in the matter, so I clammed up to hear her perspective.

She pointed out that he did have discounts to at least three of the things we had planned on doing anyway. In her mind, she figured 90 minutes would fly by and we would have all kinds of free stuff to make our already economically-sound vacation that much thriftier (…if that’s even a real word).

I pulled her aside and gave her a quick rundown on how f**king annoying these timeshare presentations can be, but she was fine with all of that. I told her they’ll try to get us to buy vacation property here and she just said, “Well, we don’t have to buy anything to get the free stuff. We just have to listen to what they have to say.”

Then it hit me.

She’s never BEEN to one of these hard-sell timeshare presentations, so she’ll never really fully understand my trepidation until she’s experienced this agony first-hand.

I acquiesced and said we’d do it. After all, my wife will never know the pain of getting kicked in the cubes, but by golly, by the time we get done with this presentation, she WILL know what timeshare pain feels like.

We'd arrived in Cancún late enough to know that we'd have only a little idle time to check in, situate ourselves, scope the area out and grab dinner before that next morning's dreaded timeshare breakfast. The morning started out pleasantly enough. Some Carlos or Pablo dude, whatever the hell his name was, greeted us bright and early and led us to the breakfast buffet.

I coached my wife briefly before meeting with this guy and told her that regardless of what numbers I quote as representing what we make or what we have, just run with it. The last thing I needed was for me to give this guy a fake number for our combined annual income, only to have her chime in with, “What are you talking about? We make way more than that!” I even ran through a few “easy-to-commit-to-memory” numbers to use for continuity's sake in case we got separated.

I mean, after all, it was a buffet. I was bound to go back up at least once, so I wanted my wife to be able to hold him off during that time. I figured that if he believed us to be living in abject poverty, he’d probably cut his sales pitch short. Looking back on the experience, I’m quite certain he’d have continued even if I told him I was a homeless beggar on the streets, living in a piss-stained sleeping bag and talking to my imaginary goat.

He wrote down everything I said with regards to money and the salaries we purportedly made, undoubtedly prepared to plug the numbers into some insane algorithm that would somehow prove that I could buy a million dollar timeshare on a T.J. Maxx salary.

So, we got to a small theater, sat down and watched a boring-as-f**k video about how awesome their properties are, all the while I’m asking my wife things like, “How does this clown look himself in the mirror in the morning? I swear he'd sell cookies to a diabetic.” So, we got done with the video and we made our way to the guided tour of the facilities. By now, we’ve exceeded the 90 minutes of our time we said we’d give, but never wanting to be rude, my wife insisted we stick it out a while longer.

So, there we were checking out the rooms and, yeah, they were nice enough, but who cares? We're not staying there. Then we got to the balcony and he pulled something a little unexpected. I don’t even remember what it was he said exactly, (…something along the lines of, “You’re a funny guy. So, are we friends?”) but he then held out his hand for a handshake.

I found it weird that he’d ask if we were buddies, then look for a handshake right at that moment (…we were out in the open air). Now, when I’m in the U.S.A., I know my rights and I know what people can and CAN’T do. When I’m in a foreign country, I’m less knowledgeable and, as such, fearful of what a simple gesture can sometimes represent.

I had this (perhaps irrational) fear that, if I shook this guy’s hand, it would somehow constitute a binding agreement on my part to buy property. I mean after all, he HAD just quoted a price for the first time since this presentation had begun ($85,000.00), so I'm standing there thinking, “Am I gonna wind up in front of a Mexican judge next year, trying to convince him that I never agreed to anything, only to have him show me video surveillance footage of me shaking hands upon hearing the price I’d have to pay for this sh*thole?”

I even had this imaginary judge’s voice in my head saying, “Well, everybody in Mexico knows that a handshake is just as good as a signature when negotiating a deal and you KNEW you were at a timeshare presentation when you shook, so you’re sh*t out of luck, gringo!”

So, at first I just kinda chuckled and turned my back to him, presumably to admire the view of the coast. I figured that if this really was a harmless gesture, he’d put his hand down in a second or two. I remarked on how beautiful the beaches were, how awesome the weather’s been so far, wonk, wonk, wonk.... and then, after about twenty or so seconds, I turned to face him again.

HIS HAND WAS STILL OUTSTRETCHED!

Now if I was being paranoid about the significance of a Mexican handshake, this didn’t exactly help quell my fears. Again, he said something along the lines of, “C’mon, friend. Don’t leave me hangin’ like this.” I’m still trying to keep the mood light amidst the mounting tension, so I chuckled again as if hearing a humorous anecdote and told him, “Hey, you don’t need my permission to lower your arm.” Then, my “politeness-is-Priority-One” wife turned to me and said, “What are you doing? Don’t be rude!”

Yeah, not helping.

He literally (no bullsh*t) kept his hand outstretched for almost two solid minutes before I had no choice but to come out and say it.

“Sorry buddy, but I don’t shake hands with anybody during a sales pitch unless I’m sure that I’m gonna be buying something.”

This not only did NOT stop him, but I could swear I saw a bit of drool trickle out of the side of his mouth when I said this. He didn’t let up, so I continued with, “Dude, no offense, but I’m not going to shake your hand, so you can put it down.” After a few more seconds of having to look at his outstretched hand, I punctuated my statement with, “No really. You need to put your hand down....... Now!”

Finally, he relented. Needless to say, I had to later explain to my wife why I seemed so hostile towards him. She thought I was overreacting, so I later asked her, “Didn’t you think it was odd that he kept his hand up for almost three uninterrupted minutes?” At that point, even SHE had to admit that was a bit unsettling. My wife, God bless her heart, is the kind of person who tends to get professionally victimized time and time again because she won't stand up for herself at the risk of seeming rude.

And I'm the exact opposite of that.

We got to the final leg of our tour which was the “Sit Down and Make a Decision” meeting. By this time, we’d almost DOUBLED our time commitment and still hadn’t received anything in return.

Now, one thing that separates American salespeople from dudes like this is that, even if the pitch doesn’t result in a sale, the American is still polite to you. So, Pablo's sitting across from us, showing us the numbers and pitching some payment options for the place. Naturally, when you hem, haw and hesitate, the price magically lowers a few times. Yet I told him that, if he had bothered to think about it for five seconds, he’d realize that there’s no way we’d be able to afford this place on our combined salaries.

Then he started going into a story about how his mother owns a timeshare here and how she’s practically a pauper, so we should have no problems. I very politely told him that I didn’t think we were interested, at which point he had the audacity to sigh heavily, roll his eyes, lean in and say, “Look! You’re not gonna get a better deal on a place as great as this anywhere else!” He then stopped me before I could respond to call his manager over.

Not that we were ever gonna buy this piece-of-sh*t timeshare, but what he said next was definitely a deal-breaker.

Not bothering to lower the volume of his voice, he said to her, “Maybe you can reason with him. He’s clearly not understanding what I’m saying here.” Even my wife knew that was a no-no, as was evident by the “He did NOT just say that” look on her face. The manager started in and I cut her off almost instantly. At this point, I had no intention of being anything else other than unapologetically abrupt with these ass-clowns.

“Okay, I've heard enough! I’ve listened to you for almost three hours now! Now it’s your turn to listen to me!

First off, Pablo, I understand far more than you could ever imagine and, unlike you, I didn’t come to Cancún to negotiate major business deals, so don’t presume to tell me what I do and do not understand!

Secondly, if you had even a fourth-grader’s math skills, you’d have realized a LONG time ago that there is no way we could purchase a place like this without plunging ourselves into an insurmountable abyss of debt.

Thirdly, we agreed to give you ninety minutes of our time in exchange for all of these promised discounts, we’ve now given you DOUBLE that time and, unless you count frustration, grief and now, ANGER, we have yet to receive jack sh*t for our trouble!

And finally, we used our AA miles to fly here in the first place because it allowed us the opportunity to enjoy an economically-sound vacation. Only we haven’t had a chance to enjoy ANYTHING because we’ve been in Cancún for almost a day and a half and haven’t done anything we’ve wanted to do because of this pointless timeshare commitment!

Our final answer is NO and we have no intention on buying anything you have to sell us. And if you thought we flew here for free, just to blow eighty-five grand on property we’d never use, then I fear it is YOU who does not understand ME… or little else remotely related to common-sense for that matter.

Now, I suggest you uphold your end of the bargain because we’re leaving!”

Pablo took a walk, the manager conceded, gave us our free discounts and we were finally on our way to officially start enjoying our vacation. I turned to my wife as we exited the resort and you should have seen the look of surprised amusement on her face. I made no apologies then and I make none now because I knew damn well that, without that hard-lined response, we’d have easily blown another hour in there while crony after crony swooped in to break us down like vultures on a fresh corpse.

As we turned a corner, I looked at my wife and with a big grin on my face, I said,

“And that’s what a timeshare pitch feels like.” <")))><