Here in town, a chain of nurseries regularly advertises hot sales of trees, especially in the summer (heh heh…get it?). Because there are quite a few outlets, you can always find one relatively close to where you live, and they have a large selection. M’hijito and I are finally ready to landscape the long-neglected yard at the downtown house, and so we went over there to see if we could find a few xeric trees at a good price. What we found were a couple of salesmen whose high-pressure tactics rivaled the worst I’ve ever seen in a car dealership.
The first one to glom onto us was a fast-talking character who struck me as oily. Asked to show us a desert willow, a Sonoran emerald paloverde, and a Meyer lemon and to suggest one other shade tree, he schlepped us around to various peakèd-looking trees tagged with outrageous prices, given their modest size and poor condition. They wanted $250 for 24-inch trees; I’ve paid less for mature specimens in good shape. When the guy heard me say to M’hijito that the price was way too high, he started in on the pitch. We could, he exclaimed, get these fine trees for much less!
How much less?
Well, that depended on how many trees we bought. He would give us a price for all of them.
How much will you charge per tree?
He refused to say, insisting instead that we decide on the trees we wanted and then he would give us a batch price, which he guaranteed would be less than the marked prices.
The desert willows we saw were just barely OK: alive, but none of them had a decent branch structure. When we asked if they carried Sonoran emerald or Desert Museum paloverdes, he actually tried to tell us the sickly trees billed as “hybrid” paloverdes were Sonoran emeralds. Only one of the Desert Museum specimens was acceptable, and it had a “sold” tag on it.
My son pointed out that the Meyer lemons appeared to be diseased. The salesman tried to tell us it was nothing: “just” thrips, which all lemon trees supposedly get—”they’re in the air and there’s nothing you can do about it.” (Odd. Wonder why neither of my lemon trees have picked this up out of “the air.”)
Then, in true car-lot fashion, the guy got his “manager” in on the pitch. We were told that we had to buy a batch of trees right now if we wanted to get this fantastic price: $115 a tree, plus tax. They actually used language to the effect that they had to “get these trees off the lot.”
Right. Before they die here instead of in your yard…
When we said we wanted to check some other nurseries before making a decision, the manageroid announced that if we left without buying, the miraculous offer would no longer apply.
That was fine, said M’hijito; ‘bye!
Instantly the guy changed his tune and said if we wanted to look at other nurseries, that would be fine; they would match any other nursery’s price. But we would soon find that no one else had stock as good as Moon Valley’s.
So it was into our broiling chariot for a long drive across town to Baker’s.
Baker’s has a reputation for priciness, but it’s the best nursery I’ve found in the urban area, except maybe for Harper’s, which has followed the white flight to the far East Valley and so is no longer reasonably accessible to people who have stayed in the central city.
Instead of being pounced, here we had to approach an employee and describe what we wanted. He took us to an absolutely gorgeous emerald paloverde. The Meyer lemons were in excellent condition, with no sign of disease or mysterious airborne “harmless” insect infestations. And, interestingly, he suggested we might consider waiting to buy until the worst of the heat has passed, since transplanting the trees out of their pots stresses them under the best of circumstances and could kill them in 115-degree weather.
The price for 24-inch trees? Eighty-five dollars.
Some difference, eh? You can imagine where we’ll be buying the trees. If you live in Arizona or Nevada, run, don’t walk, away from Moon Valley Nurseries!
Takeaway messages for readers everywhere:
• As soon as a sales rep starts to high-pressure you, flee!
• Before opening your wallet, always, always, always go to more than one retailer and get bids from more than one service provider.