Going to a Time-Share Sales Pitch? You’ll Swim with Sharks.

On my first trip to Hawaii, when I was 22 and fresh out of college, I got suckered into going to a time-share sales pitch in exchange for a free snorkel trip. A guy in an Aloha shirt standing behind a kiosk explained how it worked. I would just give them a couple of hours of my time and wouldn’t have to buy a thing. Afterward, they’d hand me the snorkel voucher and I’d soon be exploring some of Kauai’s best reefs by boat, ogling tropical fish of every imaginable hue. I had little money and (I thought) all the time in the world, so I figured it wasn’t a bad deal. Inside a room overlooking the Pacific, Hawaiian music played. I munched on a raspberry Danish, sipped freshly squeezed orange juice and, with dozens of others, watched a video about the wonders of vacation time-shares. So far so good. Then out came the salespeople.

Sitting across from a fellow who wanted to be my best friend and give me the deal of a lifetime, I explained that I was just a 22-year-old impoverished freelance writer. The truth was, I said, I couldn’t afford a mid-size rental car, let alone vacation real estate. I just wanted to go snorkeling.

He nodded understandingly but was undeterred, scratching dollar amounts on a sheet of paper, explaining all the money I’d save if I bought in now.

When he finally gave up, another salesman took over—the proverbial shark circling me in the water. He flashed his teeth. His pitch became ever more aggressive. What could he do, he wanted to know, to get me into a first-rate property today? How could we seal the deal?

I’m sorry, I said, but I just want to go snorkeling.

He furrowed his brow. Did I really want to spend my holidays throwing money away on hotels when I could own? Was I really that unwise? He was not pleased.

I’d disappointed him.

By the time I left, I felt as though I’d been pummeled. I was drained, and relieved that my personal time-share sales nightmare had finally come to an end.

The snorkel trip was great. But it was was hardly worth the pain.

I promised myself I’d never jump into those shark-infested time-share sales waters again.

Budget Travel’s Confessions of a time-share salesperson, written by former salesperson Lisa Ann Schreier, offers the inside scoop on the pitch. The sales offer begins with a “puke price”—something so high you’ll never go for it—and eventually drops. The first salesperson moves on, replaced by a sales manager know as a T.O. or Take Over. The math becomes complicated and is sometimes plain wrong. You hear lines like “We have a special inventory that’s going fast…” And so on.

If you’re not interested in buying, is it ever worth enduring the pitch for a discounted activity or freebie?

Writes Schreier: “In my opinion, the discount you receive on lodging and entertainment is not worth the few hours of vacation you’re giving up to hear the sales pitch that goes along with the deal.”

I’ll definitely buy that.

Photo by Wolfgang Kopp via Flickr (Creative Commons).

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