This is part 10 in a series about my time working for the Combined Insurance Company. If you want to catch up, please check out Part 1: PMA Day, Part 2: Johnny B, Part 3: Ross, Part 4: The Preacher, Part 5: Misfits Guy, Part 6: ICP Guy, Part 7: Diabetes Guy, Part 8: Pizza Delivery Guy, and Part 9: Cocaine Guy.

My time at Combined Insurance was absolutely packed with things I hated. I had to wear a suit and eat Bojangles every day, had to sit through countless morning meetings, suffered through many a one-clap, participated in cult-like affirmation chants, worshiped at the altar of W. Clement Stone (who founded Combined), and had to ride in the Buick with John B. I barely survived my time riding with Diabetes Guy, had to live with Cocaine Guy for a week, and sold my own family members insurance policies in order to meet my monthly quotas.

In light of this, one might think I’d be unable to identify my single, worst day ever with the company.

Alas, I can.

My stomach was filled to the brim with Bo’Berry Biscuits and soda from our morning meeting. In a bizarre role reversal, I was driving my silver Honda C-RV with John Bishop riding shotgun. I’d upgraded to a Garmin GPS, which John ribbed me for but was secretly impressed by. We were driving down an old country road on our way to renew a family policy.

As we neared the final turn, I realized that we were about to be driving on a gravel road that wound between mobile homes in a shabby trailer park. This wasn’t uncommon in our line of work, given the previously mentioned penchant for selling policies to the poverty-stricken.

What was uncommon, however, were the tens of cats – maybe even close to 100 – that were swarming around the road and driveway. They weren’t even darting out in front of my vehicle; rather, they were slowly slinking around. I slowed to a painful creep as I made my way down the street. There was simply no way of avoiding the cats; there were too many and they were too erratic.

Suddenly, without even feeling a bump or even a knock, I knew in my gut something bad had happened. As I approached our destination, I looked in my rearview mirror and there, just beside a puddle that had gathered in a gaping hole in the center of the gravel road, a cat spasmed about. It had traipsed its graceful self right under one of my tires.

To be honest, with so many cats swarming the premises, I’m surprised there was only one casualty, but for an animal lover like myself, even one was too much to bear. I was crushed, heartbroken.

I parked the car and told John I didn’t think I had it in me to try to work the upsell inside. He said he’d handle it and I let him.

Inside we met with a very friendly middle-aged couple who seemed to love us and our product. They were eager to renew their policies with us and were open to hearing about potential new add-ons.

Then, in the most dramatic fashion, the trailer’s front door burst open and an inconsolable 30-something woman rushed in, tears positively gushing from her eyes as she sobbed. The trailer shook with the impact of the door slamming and her stomping in. She was the couple’s daughter and she was still living at home, an arrangement that didn’t seem to bother them.

The couple asked what was wrong and she screamed back at them incoherently between loud sobs while all but sprinting into her room with her mom in tow. When her mother rejoined us in the living room, she calmly sat back down in her chair and, with a smile, said “she’ll be alright. Looks like somebody ran over her favorite cat.”

There were 10, maybe 15 trailers in this neighborhood and no fewer than 75-80 cats walking around (likely more). The fact that I would run over a single cat that not only happened to belong to the family whose house we were visiting but also the favorite, was the worst possible coincidence. Almost like the universe was making an example of me for training future knuckleheads on the importance of spatial awareness.

I wanted to collapse in on myself, maybe sink into the chair I was sitting in, maybe even offer up myself to the next unsuspecting driver out on the gravel road.

John succeeded in renewing the policies, but we didn’t get the upsell. I was also able to squeak out an apology on the loss of their cat, but didn’t exactly own up to being the killer. I think we were the only vehicle that either came or went the entire time we were there, so they had to know.

I was always happy to leave people’s homes because I felt icky trying to sell these policies to people, but I was never happier to leave anyone’s house than I was on that day.

It’s just too bad I wasn’t riding with Ross, because I could have gone for a beer or ten that afternoon.

Final Combined Man post tomorrow!

-jtf

This is post 15 of 30 in my most recent attempt at tackling NaBloPoMo. Funsies and such.