So it's December 23, the last business day before Christmas. Seems like a good time to post something in the spirit of the holiday. I could play the curmudgeon and rant about some of the Christmas music one hears this time of year, but I won't do that (other than to note that the songwriters and performing artists who have given us the song "Last Christmas" have yet to pay for their crimes.) Or I could attempt an inspiring sermon about the importance of peace on insurance disputes and good will toward adjusters. But that would be weird. Or I could jot a few tried-and-true quick lines about the importance of loss prevention at this time of year, lest these guys show up at your door. But, let's be honest here, I'm basically lazy.
And because I'm basically lazy, I've decided to re-post a painful moving piece of poetry I first penned 10 years ago this month and published in IIABNY Insider. The poem tells the story of a character I shamelessly ripped off adapted from a popular work by the late Theodor S. Geisel, known to the masses as Dr. Seuss. I'm flattered that my tripe contribution to holiday literature has been reprinted by organizations such as Big I Virtual University and the Massachusetts Association of Insurance Agents, even as I question their editorial judgment. Apparently, others have found value in my poem as a space filler holiday message.
And so, just as irrelevant today as it was in December 2006, I give you the following poem, along with my holiday greetings and my fervent wish that Mr. Geisel's survivors will choose not to sue me.
HOW THE INSURANCE AGENT SAVED CHRISTMAS
Every Who down in Whoville liked Christmas a lot,
But the Grinch, who lived just north of downtown, did not.
“I must stop all this nonsense!” the old Grinchy declared
And he drew up a plan for his mission with care.
Then he put on his coat and made a quick call
On his Trusted Choice® agent near the Whoville town hall.
“Am I covered,” he asked, “for the use of a sled
And a dog with a sawed-off stick tied to his head?”
“Since it's not self-propelled,” the insurance man said,
“You have coverage for the use of the dog and the sled.
Why do you ask?” he inquired, for he knew the Grinch well,
And he secretly hoped for more insurance to sell.
“I'm taking away Christmas!” the Grinch said with a sneer.
“The Whos won't have new presents to open this year!
After Santa delivers the goodies, I'll sneak
Into Who-houses and condos. The Who kids'll freak
When they find the next morning I've made off with their stuff
And they won't have a Christmas. Now, isn't that tough!”
The agent was horrified, stunned with alarm
And he thought about sending the Grinch off to State Farm.
But he kept his cool, and said, “That won't work, you see
Theft of contents is insured under the ISO HO-3.
And that isn't all, you'll have trouble galore.
When they find out who did it, they're gonna be sore.
And your coverage wont help,” the agent concluded,
“Because harm caused by intentional acts is excluded.”
The Grinch ran the numbers for the possible tab
From stuffing the holiday loot in his bag.
After looking them over, he had to conclude
If he lost in court, he would definitely be…scrunched.
So, what happened next? Well, in Whoville they say
The Grinch's small heart grew two sizes that day.
“Merry Christmas! Happy Kwanzaa! Happy Hanukkah, too!”
He cried to the Whos, who said, “Same back to you!”
The agent said, “Grinch, you seem like a smart fella
I think you should purchase a personal umbrella.”
So the Grinch filled the paperwork out on the spot
And wrote out a check while the ink was still hot.
The agent was thrilled when, according to HUD,
He found out the Grinch needed coverage for flood.
When it was all done, the Grinch gave up his mission
And the agent had earned a nice Christmas commission.
They went out for a drink. The agent paid for the gin
And the Whos in the bar gathered 'round and joined in.
And the Grinch raised his glass and said, “This is delightful.
I'm just sure you don't get service like this from GEICO!”
HAPPY HOLIDAYS FROM ALL OF US AT IIABNY