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Joe orders us each a pint of Guinness and tells me real men leave the bottled stuff for babies. Guinness is a thunderstorm in my glass; the beer head is thick like a cloud. Joe takes his first sip and lets out a loud exhale before slamming the glass down on our table. “Pool?” he whistles to get a waitress’ attention. All the women in this pub respond like dogs: heads turned, pupils dilated...

I sold my first car today. Joe considered this customer to be a “lapper.” She treated our lot like a maze, the way she strutted between the rows of sedans, stopped at every third car before turning back or pivoting to the next aisle of inventory. Her name was Julie Ballenger and she was a returning customer. She had previously worked with Jesse J, who she remembered having Bat Man branded gauges...