Too smart for your own good?
I sell insurance for a living. It can be very frustrating, and while the hassles of state and corporate bureaucracies are souring enough, the stupidity of Man is what drives me to drink.
Realize please that most insurance agents are not evil people. There are some, and they sell mostly stock-driven variable/universal funds. Classic, good-old-fashioned whole life salesmen are not trying to rip you off, for the most part. In fact, what we do is akin to herding cats. We have to take a bunch of self-appointed geniuses, and sell them something that they don't want yet desperately need. We're doing you a favor by selling you insurance. All that most see, though, is a salesman, and no one wants to be taken by salesmen. I could be selling a cure for cancer door-to-door, wait - I could be the Pope selling a cure for cancer door to door, with a product testimony from Jimmy Stewart under my arm, and some jackass wouldn't part with a nickel to buy it because he doesn't want to feel "manipulated." Or he wants wants to look like a big man, a savvy shopper, in front of his wife. Wow!
"Shoppers" are another unqiue set of self-important ignorami (ignoramuses?) that are too clever for their own good. These cheeky folks think they are brilliant for getting numbers from 17 different companies. Do you know what happens then? Confusion sets in; a decision is never made. And clearly, some shoppers are simply indecisive jellyfish hiding behind a canard of intelligence. They expand their choices until no choice is ever made. There comes a point where insurance is just a choice between Coke or Pepsi. If you want to dilly over Pepsi One and Vanilla Coke until you die of thirst, go ahead.
And die they do. I've seen a healthy handful of these blowhards drop dead, despite my relative newness to the field. The loser, of course, is the family of the departed. I hope they enjoy his brilliance while his body lies cold six-feet-under. It's good he didn't listen to me; what widow really needs a half-million anyway? And she's just selfish if she wants to keep the kids in the same house. Let her get an apartment! Not that Joe Corpse cares anymore. He's got a nice new place place to rest his bones, and for a good long time, too.
Find a good agent like you find a good doctor, and trust him. There are occasionally reasons to branch out and look around, and there's no reason not to do your homework, but trying to out-think your agent is like out-thinking your doctor. Do you sit at the kitchen table with seven or eight prescriptions, deciding which one you like? "Oh sure," our protagonist says, "I have leukemia. But I've got time to look around. I need to do my research."
We're all terminal, bubie, and we don't know when it'll hit.
I sell insurance for a living. It can be very frustrating, and while the hassles of state and corporate bureaucracies are souring enough, the stupidity of Man is what drives me to drink.
Realize please that most insurance agents are not evil people. There are some, and they sell mostly stock-driven variable/universal funds. Classic, good-old-fashioned whole life salesmen are not trying to rip you off, for the most part. In fact, what we do is akin to herding cats. We have to take a bunch of self-appointed geniuses, and sell them something that they don't want yet desperately need. We're doing you a favor by selling you insurance. All that most see, though, is a salesman, and no one wants to be taken by salesmen. I could be selling a cure for cancer door-to-door, wait - I could be the Pope selling a cure for cancer door to door, with a product testimony from Jimmy Stewart under my arm, and some jackass wouldn't part with a nickel to buy it because he doesn't want to feel "manipulated." Or he wants wants to look like a big man, a savvy shopper, in front of his wife. Wow!
"Shoppers" are another unqiue set of self-important ignorami (ignoramuses?) that are too clever for their own good. These cheeky folks think they are brilliant for getting numbers from 17 different companies. Do you know what happens then? Confusion sets in; a decision is never made. And clearly, some shoppers are simply indecisive jellyfish hiding behind a canard of intelligence. They expand their choices until no choice is ever made. There comes a point where insurance is just a choice between Coke or Pepsi. If you want to dilly over Pepsi One and Vanilla Coke until you die of thirst, go ahead.
And die they do. I've seen a healthy handful of these blowhards drop dead, despite my relative newness to the field. The loser, of course, is the family of the departed. I hope they enjoy his brilliance while his body lies cold six-feet-under. It's good he didn't listen to me; what widow really needs a half-million anyway? And she's just selfish if she wants to keep the kids in the same house. Let her get an apartment! Not that Joe Corpse cares anymore. He's got a nice new place place to rest his bones, and for a good long time, too.
Find a good agent like you find a good doctor, and trust him. There are occasionally reasons to branch out and look around, and there's no reason not to do your homework, but trying to out-think your agent is like out-thinking your doctor. Do you sit at the kitchen table with seven or eight prescriptions, deciding which one you like? "Oh sure," our protagonist says, "I have leukemia. But I've got time to look around. I need to do my research."
We're all terminal, bubie, and we don't know when it'll hit.
posted by Guy Haraldsson | Thursday, July 24, 2003
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