How Would You Like Some Free Life Insurance?

How Would You Like Some Free Life Insurance?

 

                    The Morning Mail

Here’s a letter from my bank that arrived today. They want to know if I’d like $1,000 of “free” life insurance.

I’m not biting.

The reason is - I'm wise to this. The payoff likely requires an actual dismemberment while on a “common carrier.”

FYI: My car would be “un-common.” 

So - if I ever called to collect - I'd expect a scenario something like this:

                This Call may be Monitored.

“Hello.” That’s the live operator after I’ve gone through 30 minutes of automatic menu options and having been told that “this call may be monitored.”

Seriously?

OK, me talking now  - “Yes, hi, I’m calling because I recently lost an arm when my driver side power window squeezed and then sliced into my bicep as I was riding through town trying to impersonate a cool guy from the 1950s and I accidently pressed  or leaned against the up-button.”

Insurance official - “Was your car leased from either a major airline or a bus company or were you by any chance traveling through the Large Hadron Collider(LHC)?

Me - “Well I own the car. Plus we rolled down windows in the '50s, ... so ...”

Official - or maybe I've been switched to a Recording - “I’m sorry I do not understand. 

In a few words, can you tell me the reason for your call."  

Me again - Huh? Wait – who is that talking?  Is this a recording?  Am I cut off?

Recording - “To repeat the menu options press 9.”

Beep! Beep! Beep! Beep! Beep! Beep! Beep! Beep! Beep!

So it goes.

            Am I on the FBI's List

 

Yes, truth be told, I actually fell for the old “free insurance” scam thirty years ago. But I discovered it just recently while inquiring about a $2.50 monthly charge on my bank statement.

It's was a bright fall day and I was at the bank, with time to spare.

Here are the details:
After asking to speak with someone I'm directed to a sitting area. Minutes go by. Finally an officer approaches.

"How can I help you," he says. 

"Could you tell me what this is?" I say, pointing to the $2.50 charge on my statement.

The officer takes the statement, walks back to his office. "Come in," he says. He sits at his desk and keys information into the computer.

He raises his eye toward me. “That’s accidental death or dismemberment insurance,” he says.    

“What?”

“Accidental death or …”

“Yes I know, but how did I get that?”

He goes back to the keyboard, keys in more data.

Approximately thirty minutes (OK fifteen) pass here. The whole time, the bank officer stares at his computer screen, typing what I imagine are updates to bad marks on my record. The look on his face varies – from sternness, to abject dumbfounded-ness to … Whoa!!! You’re telling me that this man is number 1 on the FBI’s most wanted schizophrenic list?

I wait patiently. Time to spare today.

Finally I'm told, “You bought the coverage in 1981, from Chatham Town Bank.”

I snicker. The year now is 2011. 

                 Thirty-Seven Banks Ago

He mentions Chatham Town Bank because he knows that was thirty-seven banks ago and any guilt on his part comes under the seventeenth century invasion-of-America-law-rule, which means: Long ago. Does not count! Not it!

Something like that.

My memory comes back. I remember being offered free insurance – yes – it was back around the time of the Declaration of Independence, but today, being a modern day sear of sorts, I put two and two together. Centuries may pass but bank account numbers remain, so that free insurance I got? 

 

It was, in fact, free, but for three months only. After that a $2.50 per month deduction kicks in. That's $30.00 a year, $300.00 a decade, for a total of $900.00 for three decades which is the amount that I have paid to insure myself against the equivalent of death from collisions in the LHC (Large Hadron Collider).

Darn!!!