Thoughts from Left Field | November 2001 Lighter Side of Life

LSOL: Thoughts from Left Field

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It's nice when your client finally pays attention.

By PENNY RIGHTHAND, CLU, ChFC

I went to a baseball game last summer. It's one of my favorite things to do on a warm summer's day-go out to the ballpark, drink beer, eat Cracker Jack and cheer for my favorite team.
As one of the players was rounding the bases after having hit a homer and as my voice was starting to crack from screaming, I asked my friend sitting next to me, who also sells life insurance, "Wouldn't it be nice to be cheered every time we did what we are being paid to do?"
When was the last time you were paid $5 million and applauded for doing what you were hired to do? Personally, I'd settle for one or the other.

I'm not complaining. I just like the idea of the little man jumping out of his chair and applauding loudly instead of reluctantly signing the check and slowly tearing the check out of his checkbook to pay for the privilege of making someone's life easier.

I like to hear wild whistling because I've helped a rich, 80-year-old man arrange things so that his six children won't want to murder his 56-year-old wife when he dies because she took away their fortune.
Well, last week I got the call. Larry Lansky called.

Larry is the client I started talking with 15 years ago when I first came into the business. I didn't know anything back then, but I knew how to ask a lot of questions and I knew that this then-teacher's toy train collection was not a good way to plan to take care of his wife when he died.

But Larry was smart. He was the faculty advisor to the winning high school debate team. And he out-debated me. He didn't need life insurance-except, of course, a little term here and there. His dad had a successful business in the Bay Area and a nice home where he lived with Larry's special-needs brother who was also near 60. Larry expected that when his 90-year-old dad died, his substantial assets would be sufficient to support his brother. I wasn't so sure. And the longer I was in this business, or the older I got, the less sure I became. So I kept calling him every year or so, trying to find the hole in his plan. Besides, I enjoyed the repartee.

At 60 he was offered early retirement, and he and his lovely bride decided to leave the congestion of urban life and move to the rural hinterlands for a more pastoral existence. When he moved, I stopped calling him. But he called me every time he got a letter from one of his term carriers to ask how much it would cost to do this or that.

The long-awaited call

Then one day last week, the call came. "It's Larry Lansky," my secretary said to me, rolling her eyes. "Do you want to talk to him?" (She has strict instructions not to put through anyone who we suspect is going to waste my time, except close relatives.)

I picked up the phone.

"Larry!" I was happy to hear from him.

"Hi, Penny," he replied. "I got one of those orange envelopes in the mail from one of those insurance companies."

You can imagine my delight.

"So Larry," I quipped, "What are you calling to tell me that you're not going to do this time?"

"Oh, you remember me after all!" he said. "Well, you might want to record this conversation for your other clients."

I sat down in my chair to listen.

"Do you remember that conversation we had in my living room 15 years ago?"

I forgot, right?

I could hear the crowd cheering. I'd hit a home run!

"You said I should get rid of that term insurance and get some whole life insurance'that it would give me a disciplined savings plan and that Diane would have something when I died. But I was sure my toy trains and my father's business would take care of my wife and my brother." He paused. "I should have listened to you. You were right."

I was right. And someone besides me knew it. I could hear the crowd cheering. I'd hit a home run!
"Can I have that in writing?" I asked.

"I'll give it to you in writing. My father got senile," he continued, "and before we realized what was happening, he gave the business away and spent all his money, and left me with my 63-year-old special-needs brother to take care of.

"So I'm ready to do it now. What's it gonna cost me?"

I was not happy for what happened to him or his Dad. I was just happy to have my suspicions and beliefs about the unpredictability of life confirmed.

Yogi Berra, that great Yankee catcher, was right when he said with his infinite wisdom, "It ain't over till it's over."

Penny Righthand represents New York Life in the San Francisco area. Her address: 70 Washington St., Suite 220, Oakland, CA 94607. Email: prighthand@ft.newyorklife.com.

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