Some time ago in the 1990s, I was getting paid to do nothing at my first real job ever. One day we were having a routine audit for our liability insurance. Being my first job and my first audit, I was a bit concerned over the term 'auditor' and the bad connotations that always go with it. In one of my accounting classes, I recall a professor explaining that auditors weren't looking to find the things you did wrong, they were confirming that you did things right. No one in the class bought that line, but I never forgot it.
Anyway, the audit went fine, but took the whole day. I've never been a people person and spending the whole day with the auditor wasn't exactly what I'd bargained for. After the audit, I contacted our insurance agent, we'll call him 'Bob,' and I asked him some questions so I'd be better prepared for the next audit. In talking with Bob, he explained that the auditor didn't want to be there any more than I wanted him there and the best way to have a good audit experience is to have everything ready for the auditor. He went on to explain that the more information you can provide and the more organized you appear, the less likely the auditor is to ask questions and spend all day invading your space.
I took Bob's words to heart and over the years became so well versed in handling the various audits, that most times I could simply e-mail an auditor the information I wanted him to have and that was that.
Bob was always a huge help, so much in fact that I eventually turned all my personal insurance needs over to him. Because I was a cheap bastard, I always wanted to turn things into insurance. I recall the garage door finally dying. It was made of some shitty fiberglass and eventually just fell apart. I remember calling Bob and saying, "Bob, my garage door died and I don't feel like paying for a new one." Bob said, "Call me back and tell me your wife backed into it."
I called him back, told him my wife backed through the door, and was told by Bob he'd send me a check. That, my friends, is what you want in an insurance agent.
Bob used to call me every year with new insurance rates. When I'd get a phone call that started with, "Rick, it's Bob, do you have a pencil?" I knew it meant my rates had gone up and that Bob had shopped around and found me new ones. He's tell me how much up one sort of insurance went and how much down a different type went, and then he'd let me know the net effect, which was generally lower than I was previous paying.
Over the years, Bob was trying to get his oldest son going in the industry. Along with working on our accounts at work, Bob turned my personal insurance over to his son, we'll call him 'Andy.'
Andy was like an extension of his dad and my insurance needs never missed a beat as we switched from Bob to Andy. Through the years, Andy and I became friends, even though Andy always seemed to have taken a personal interest in my account. As a matter of fact, my account has been assigned to someone in his office, I think her name is Marilyn. I'm not really sure because I've never talked with her. If I have an issue, I just call Andy on the cell number he once gave me.
Our friendship grew after we both joined Bushwood Country Club (it might have been Oak Meadow, I can't recall the exact details) to play golf. Andy was great to play golf with, always providing funny material to use against him in the future.
Andy would line up about 30 yards right of where he thought he was aimed. Then he'd swing and hit the ball 40 yards left of his intended target. One time Andy was leading his flight of a golf tournament heading into the last hole. He only needed something like a 9 to win but carded a smooth 13 to finish 3rd (again, the details are a bit fuzzy on that one, but I never let the truth get in the way of a good story).
While playing golf, Andy was never afraid to lend a helping hand when others wouldn't. There was a time Andy and I were playing with a couple other friends. After a particularly wayward approach shot by me, my arms suddenly had a spasm and my 3-iron inadvertently got tossed into a tree. Unfortunately, said 3-iron got stuck in the trees on the 11th hole at Oak Meadow and refused to come back down. While 2 of my 'friends' laughed as they walked toward the green, Andy stayed behind and helped me throw my 9-iron into the tree to dislodge my 3-iron. That's what friends are for.
There were other times on the course where Andy would provide good insurance tips. If he'd notice my ball heading towards the water, he'd immediately chime in to let me know not to throw the clubs because they weren't covered by insurance. It's hard to get help like that.
Not quite ten years ago, I upped my life insurance when Hayden was born. One of the insurance companies didn't like the results of my blood work, so they turned me down for an increase (my triglycerides were too high, always have been, always will be, because Psycho Dad loves beer and chips). Not to worry Andy said, "we'll just get you two small policies that total the amount you're looking for." In explaining everything to my wife, she got confused with all the numbers and what to do if I died. Noting her confusion, I asked her if she wanted the details or if she just wanted Andy's cell number so she could call and say, "Rick's dead, now what do I do?"
Andy has since set up a Facebook page for his alter ego, Insurance Dude where he provides answers to every insurance question you could ever think of. For those of you looking for insurance, go to Insurance Dude's Facebook page for information:
http://www.facebook.com/InsuranceDude?fref=ts
If you already have insurance with someone else, drop it and then go to Insurance Dude's Facebook page. You won't be sorry. I've never been.
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