Reputation Management: Credit Scammers and the Chicken Caprice

Welcome back to Reputation Management! Here we reveal the underbelly of ordinary automotive retailers—places like car dealers and service shops—with fictional service tales inspired by real customer reviews. How do we make these stories seem like they could really happen? Because of my years of experience with a Fortune 500 automotive retailer as a—you guessed it—reputation manager. —Sajeev

Thanks to the Internet, you might already know about the Chevrolet Caprice that sports a chicken head on the roof, a rooster tail on its trunk, and feathers painted on its fleet white body. But you likely don’t know its origin story, and how I took it this “Chicken Caprice” from an NPC (non-playable character) to the king of burnouts on the Louisiana bayou. That happened thanks to a tale of worry and woe from a car dealership, but we’re getting ahead of ourselves.

For at least two decades, John’s Chicken and Grill restaurant had a chicken-themed, early 1970s Cadillac coupe in their parking lot. It was a beloved landmark to their fellow residents in Galliano, Louisiana. But the Chicken Cadillac’s shocking level of craftsmanship ensured it was more than a mere promotional tool. Honda memorialized in an advertisement for the 1993 Civic del Sol.

By the 2010s, the Chicken Cadillac’s service in uncovered parking lots, local parades, and high school proms had made it worse for the wear. A new mascot was needed, so the chicken’s head and tail made their way to a 2011 Chevrolet Caprice PPV at a nearby Chevy dealership. The PPV’s steel wheels made way for a modest set of aftermarket alloys, and the new “Chicken Caprice” parked itself in front of that restaurant in Galliano.

But time is a cruel mistress, as the restaurant closed a few years after the Chicken Caprice came to life. Seeing an opportunity to preserve a bit of Louisiana history for themselves, the Chevrolet dealer bought the Chicken Caprice back, earning a nugget of name recognition for themselves.

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I was fortunate to have Lauren as my reputation management assistant. She enjoyed her work, and had an endless interest in learning about cars. When I told her about my plans to burn some vacation time to attend the 24 Hours of Lemons race in New Orleans as a “judge” of the race cars in attendance, she was both excited and intrigued. I knew the office was safe in her hands, and that was beyond reassuring.

So I packed my bags, loaded my truck and headed down Interstate 10 to The Big Easy. I passed several CarCountry dealerships, making stops at two of them. The pit stops helped me see my friends (who also happened to be co-workers), and it broke up the journey so I could relax and recharge.

You might not know that luxury car dealerships offer an impressive array of free snacks for customers. And that visitors from CarCountry’s corporate office are generally allowed to partake in the bounty. But that’s especially true when you are a Reputation Manager visiting while on vacation, because in-person visits go a long way in building trust with your dealership cohorts.

Perhaps now you’ve surmised that I’m a man who can squeeze a dollar bill pretty tightly. Leaving that CarCountry Mercedes-Benz lounge was supposed to be my final interaction with people in the car business. But when morning in New Orleans arrived, I opened my hotel room’s curtains to be greeted by the rising sun…wait, what is that?

Is that a Chicken Caprice?

For the love of all that’s good in this world, how is that Chicken Caprice able to stare into my soul and judge me for all of my flaws?

Upon closer inspection, the Chicken Caprice’s bumper had a dealership booster plate, suggesting the car business followed me to the racetrack. It did, because a man named Mo owned the Chicken Caprice, and managed his team at the racetrack. Nobody in Mo’s team was a professional driver—as you’d expect in a Lemons race—so they racked up black flags like a customer with a 472 credit score collects red ones in a finance manager’s office.

My time as a Reputation Manager and a Lemons Judge proves there’s nothing wrong with people in either “flagged scenario,” provided mistakes turn into teachable moments. So when NOLA Motorsports Park went cold after that first day of racing, I walked over to Mo’s paddock to both pay my respects to the Chicken Caprice and have a heart-to-heart talk with Mo and his crew.

I broke the ice with some car dealer lingo and bravado. My “up” worked, because they offered me homemade jambalaya and boudin balls that forced drooling with every word out of my mouth. Breaking bread with people generally means thing are going well. Then a bad review entered the chat.

Turns out Mo wasn’t just the team leader, he was also the owner of the Chevrolet dealership. Since this place was his baby, he received notifications via email whenever a Google review was left for his store. The car business never sleeps, I tell ya.

So Mo decided to put me to the test, to see if I passed muster outside of a racetrack. I read the review and had questions for his staff. Apparently Mo thought they were the right ones, so I was recruited into his team that evening. We called the dealership employee mentioned in the review for background information.

What we learned behind that 1-star review left us all silent and somber. While we love to rant about “heat cases” who disrespect service workers and then have the gall to blast it on social media, this wasn’t one of those times. Apparently the customer was swindled out of $1500 by a financing scam email, a dastardly deed similar to the Car Loan Modification Scam.

This customer victim was emailed by a scammer, and they fell for the premise of being “pre-approved” for financing with no interaction from a dealership’s finance department. The con is pretty straightforward: Produce a convincing series of email templates, get as much personal information on the victim as possible, and then get as much cash as you can from them. Once the funds from the victim’s account are secured, the scammer tells them to visit a dealership and pick the vehicle they want from the lot. Easy, peasy.

Too bad it doesn’t work that way, and it never has. The scammer disappears well before the victim realizes their mistake, and all the blame goes to the dealership that won’t honor a fraudulent commitment. Bad reviews follow, and everyone but the scammer loses from the experience.

Financial illiteracy in the car business is both a serious problem and a cause for crime with real victims in your community. This is why people prefer to buy cars online, even if it means they will leave hundreds or thousands of dollars on the table. So we scarfed down some more boudin balls while one of Mo’s staffers whipped out an iPad to reply to the review. I did nothing but approve the message and its underlying tone.

As the sun fully set below the horizon, Mo decided to blow off some steam after a hard day of racing and Reputation Management. That usually involves burnouts and fireworks down on the Gulf Coast, but only one of those activites is allowed at this facility. So he tossed me the key fob to the Chicken Caprice and smiled.

I think my heart skipped a beat.

I admired the craftsmanship of the Chicken Caprice, unaware of the Cadillac before it and the Honda Del Sol advertisement it spawned. It was more than just a marketing tool, just like Reputation Management is more than replying back to online reviews.

Wherever the Reputation Manager goes, there’s always a conflict to be resolved. And when I create solace in a chaotic world, sometimes I am rewarded with bounties as beautiful as the Chicken Caprice.

The Reputation Manager will return…