26 Miles Across the Sea

In February of 1999 the company got a request to bid on a group of camps, including one on Catalina Island, 26 miles off the coast of Los Angeles. We didn't have a full-time agent assigned to that area, so they asked me to go and do the work for the camp bid. There are only a couple of churches on the island, so I made a couple of calls and lined up another appointment while I was over there.

To get to the island you have to take a ferry from Long Beach, and I was on a very early boat - 7:00 am. It takes about 90 minutes to make the channel crossing, and when I got to Avalon (the main city on the island), I was met by someone from the camp who had come to pick me up in the camp's little Boston Whaler boat. We set out at high speed for the run around the island to the camp in very cold weather. There wasn't any cover on the boat, so I had a very windy welcome to Catalina.

I spent most of the morning at the camp, measuring and photographing their tent-like buildings. At that time we used Polaroid cameras which were really a pain when you had lots of buildings. The cameras spit out the picture after each shot, and the cartridges only hold 10 photos. Consequently, I had to drag around my file case with extra film and my measuring tools. It was a pain in the rear for a group deal that we probably weren't going to get (and we didn't).

About 1pm I had the camp guy run me back around to Avalon where I was met by a board member from one of the local churches. In Avalon few people own cars - most of the locals travel around the city in golf carts, and that's what the guy drove when he showed up at the dock. I spent the afternoon measuring and inspecting his church building in downtown Avalon, and fortunately, that effort wasn't wasted. I was able to write several policies for the church and we had them for a client for a couple of years before another agent lost the renewal. No big deal, because under the commission schedule in effect at the time I only got paid for the initial sale so what happened after that didn't really matter.

I did have a couple of hours to kill after the appointment to look around Avalon before catching the boat home. It made for a very long day since the boat didn't leave until about 5:30, but as working days went, it was certainly more interesting than most of them. A once-a-year trip over there wouldn't have been too bad.

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The Crazy Guy

This story isn't about an insurance situation, but a guy I encountered one day while on the road in my territory. I had an appointment near downtown San Diego and for lunch decided to run by the U.S.S. Midway, an aircraft carrier which is now a floating museum. I wanted to pick up a brochure for a future trip with my family to visit the big ship.

While walking from the ship back to my car a very agitated black guy came across busy Harbor Drive pulling a large rolling suitcase...against the light. Cars were having to brake to avoid hitting him. As he passed me he walked out onto the boat dock, picked up the large and obviously full suitcase, and threw it as hard as he could into the bay. He then muttered various obscenities, crossed Harbor again against the light (I thought for sure he was going to get hit) and headed back up Broadway. Somebody wasn't going to have their favorite traveling jammies that night.

My best guess, based on what I could made out from his muttering, is that somebody mistook him for a bellboy at one of the nearby hotels (the U.S. Grant is just up the street). Insulted, he took the suitcase from the person and once they were out of sight chucked it into the bay.

Very entertaining. Insurance work wasn't all boredom and idiot managers.

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The Entrepreneur in the Middle of Nowhere

Almost every year I would get a card or a call from a pastor whose church was located about as far away from my office as you could get and still be in my territory. In fact, it was just a few miles from Yuma, AZ. I had traveled to that community before to take photos of an existing client out there, and I was all set to go visit this guy's church until I spent a little time with him on the phone and discovered some interesting things about his operation.

Yes, he had a religious nonprofit church out there, but as it turned out the corporation that owned the church also owned a truck stop, a motel, some office buildings, and various other things around that tiny town. Given that the insurance company had no experience or desire to insure those kinds of risks I cancelled my trip out there and told the guy I couldn't help him. That didn't stop him from not only sending in marketing mailers from the company every year, but calling the main office and complaining that I wouldn't help him. The home office would call my boss demanding an explanation, my boss would talk to me, I would explain the situation...again, and the round-robin would head back to the the desert entrepreneur.

This probably happened five times in nine years. I was getting pretty sick of the guy, and pretty sick of the company's inability to take him off the mailing list. I'm sure my replacement is still getting calls from the guy and the company is still demanding why we won't insure him. Neither were very bright sometimes.

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The Environmentalist Preacher

I was having lunch with the pastor of a church and we were talking about his plans for a new church complex on some raw land they owned. We got into the environmental impact issues he was fighting and he told me a couple of stories.

One day some enviroweenie showed up at the property to inspect it to see if there might be some sort of special habitat there that couldn't be disturbed. According to the enviroweenie the property "looked like it could be habitat for an endangered butterfly". The pastor asked if any such butterflies had been found and was told no, but they could be there. The pastor then asked "what kind of birds eat those butterflies?" The enviroweenie demanded to know why the pastor needed that information, and he told them that he was going to "buy a couple boxes of them and turn them loose on the property". The enviroweenie was aghast.

He also told me of another church in San Marcos that had bought some raw land for a new church complex and were advised by their attorney that the moment the sale was complete to take a grader and scrape every living thing off the land. Every bush, every tree, every gopher hole. Don't get a permit or ask anyone for permission - just do it. The attorney told them that if they didn't clear the property immediately some enviroweenie would try and claim that the land was habitat for some critter or another and they'd end up in court for years trying to fix it. It was better to risk a small fine from the city for grading without a permit. And that's what they did.

Sometimes it's easier to ask for forgiveness than permission.

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