So there was an ad on the Internet. It offered a $250,000 life insurance policy “from $18 a month” with no health inspection necessary. The ad was accompanied by a picture of an old woman so it was obvious it was legitimate and targeted to seniors.
I’ve been looking at the ad for months and finally decided to check it out. I filled out a simple form, included my phone number, stated my age and, because I am not a greedy man, put down that I would like a policy which would pay only $200,000 after the Grim Reaper pays me a visit. I thought it would help my family pay off all the debt I racked up on the plastic surgery for my face.
I can afford $18 a month, I thought. Maybe even a little more.
Ten seconds after I pressed send, my phone rang. A very nice young man interviewed me. He asked me more questions than I was expecting about my lifestyle and my health and then told me to stay on the line while he came up with my free quote.
Finally, he came back to tell me what I could probably expect to pay.
“It’s expensive,” he said, “because of your age and a few other things. You’re looking at spending at least $1,356.”
I quickly calculated and thought that figure, though high, still amounted to just over $100 a month, which might be doable.
“That is high but I might be interested at just over $100 a month,” I told the sales rep.
“No, you misunderstand,” he replied. “That’s $1,356 a month.”
Well, that call ended quicker than many of the ones I made as a teenager looking for a date.
“You could get $100,000 for under $700 a month,” said the salesman, but it was too late. My dream was shattered.
So, for a mere $16,272 a year, I could have a $200,000 payout upon my death from extreme handsomeness. After 10 years, I would have spent $1,620,720 for my policy, leaving $37,280 for my heirs. After 12 years, they’d have only $4,736 to spend on my going-away party.
But I can now see where I made my critical errors. I shouldn’t have told the interviewer about my frequent skydiving, my penchant for hangliding, my deep-sea diving to explore sunken ships and my sideline as a homemade dynamite maker.
But I think what really did me in was the coughing fit I had during the phone call which seemed to make the sales rep very nervous. He kept asking me if I was okay.
Once again, my quest for riches has fallen through. So it’s back to making 20 cents an hour doing surveys.
On the Internet.
©2022 Jim Hagarty
