The Calls I Get

My esteemed cohort and croquet partner Larry Durham posts about a recent encounter with a crazy, impatient motorist who tried to kill him. I literally hear it everyday. I have recently accepted a position that requires me to take First Notice of Loss claims for various insurance companies. Boy have I heard some stories! Just last night I was speaking with a gentleman from Georgia about his accident…we'll call him Jack:
Jack - "So it's 4 in the morning, New Years Day. I'm sitting at a red light, minding my own damn business, and I seed it coming!"
Larry - "Jack, could you describe the accident for me?"
Jack - "Like I says, minding my own damn business when I see this guy freaking' flying towards the intersection! He hits the car stopped at the light in the oncoming lane, who proceeds to fly across the median and crashes into me!"
Larry - "Wow Jack, are you alright?"
Jack - Neck and back been bothering me…I'm going to the hospital soon as I get off the phone with you".
Larry - "Jack, could you describe the damage to your vehicle?"
Jack - "Now wait a minute Larry - let me finish telling you! The guy who hits the other car that hits me-he takes off, you know? Just like he ain't done a damn thing! just takes off and the police, they catch up to him cause they seen the whole thing! Stop him a couple blocks away. The man is so drunk, the have to carry him to the police car! Then, they gets to the guy who hits me - he drunk too! They haul his ass in, even though he couldn't help being slammed into me! I guess he shouldn't a been driving drunk!"
Larry - "Jack, can I get a description of the damage to your vehicle?"
Jack - "Don't be in no damn hurry Larry! They's plenty more to the story!"
Larry - "Jack, I'd love to sit down one day and go over the entire, nasty incident, but I need to get this information - could you describe the damage to your vehicle?"
Jack - "That bastard that slammed into me, he was messed up! Had to go to the hospital! Messed him up but good!" Messed his car up too!"
Larry - "Sorry to hear that Jack. Now-the damage to your vehicle?"
Jack - "Oh yeah, the damage to my car. Messed up my new rim! Front driver side rim. Just got 'em for Christmas too!"
Larry - "The front driver side rim? What else Jack?"
Jack - "Oh that was all. Just the rim got some scratches on it. Larry, will this make my insurance go up? Wait, Larry - I need to call you back. The ambulance is here to take me to the ER".

Another report contains the following:
Accident Location: Piggly Wiggly parking lot.
Accident Description: IV (insured vehicle) was parked in a parking space when CV (claimant vehicle) backed into IV.
Vehicle Damage Description: IV - No damage - CV - Scratches to bumper.
Injuries: IV 1(driver) - back and neck; IV 2(passenger) - back and neck; IV 3(passenger) - back and neck; IV 4(passenger - 2 years old) - back and neck; IV 5(passenger) - back and neck and mental anguish.

Mental anguish indeed!

It's no wonder insurance rates in the country are so high! One of my favorites thus far goes a little something like this:
Larry - "Thank you for calling the new claims department, this is Larry - how may I help you?"
Guy - "I just had an accident" (Sound of glass clinking in the background).
Larry - "Are you alright?"
Guy - "I don't know yet. Just happened. (Then the caller starts arguing with someone) I don't know what happened! Mind your own business! What? What you say? I'll crawl outta this car and kick your..
Larry - "Sir, why don't you call back when things settle a bit - we're here 24-7"
Guy - "Alright Larry - I'll call back".
About 15 minutes later.
Larry - "Thank you for calling the new claims department, this is Larry - how may I help you?"
Guy - "I need to report an accident"
Larry - "Can I get your name and number please?"
Guy - "Well, my cousin called awhile ago and…(heard in the background "Sir, are we going to transport you or not?" We have other accidents to get to). Caller - "Wait a minute man! I'm on the phone with my insurance!"
Larry - "Sir, why don't you take care of the EMT first and call us back - we're here 24-7.
Caller - "Okay, we'll call you back"
They called back about 40 minutes later from the ER.

Now, while I am licensed to sell life, accident and health insurance in SC, I'm still a relative newcomer to this game. And I have been in a couple of accidents in my day. A hard landing on the pavement following a motorcycle accident when I was 20 and a kid pulled out in front of me; and a one car accident in which I slammed on brakes to avoid a stalled car in the road, throwing the rear end of my 1967 Chevy Imapala into a telephone pole - I must admit that the last thing on my mind following those two incidents was to call the insurance company. The cops? - Yes! An ambulance? - If needed! A close relative? - Definitely! The insurance company? - Maybe tomorrow!

Last but not least, my most favorite call. Taken from a father in the mountains of north Georgia. I swear, this guy sounded just like Richard Pryor doing his impression of the old man relating the 'Toodlem' character from one of his albums!
Larry - "Thank you for calling the new claims department, this is Larry - how may I help you?"
Man - "I need to report a claim"
Larry - "May I please get your name and number?"
Man - "Well, it's for my son".
Larry - "Is your son our insured?"
Man - "Oh hell no! He ain't got shit! Do you bwoi? You ain't got a damn thang without me signing for ya, with your sorry-ass".
Larry - "So you are our insured?"
Man - "Yeah, I reckon".
Larry - "May I have your policy number?"
Man - "Bwoi-read that damned number to me! No, stupid - the one on the top - sorry ass! Wait! Why am I on the phone? You had the wreck, sorry assed, no driving piece of shit! Bwoi, where was your head when I was teaching you to drive? I'll tell you where! Up yo ass! Where it still is today! Hit a house! House been there all these years and you knowed it! You been passing that house since you was born! House ain't new! Been sitting there all this time and you run into it like somebody just up and moved it there last night! Stupid ass bwoi! Here-you talk to the man!"
 I took the young man's claim.
After his dad was out of hearing range the guy says "Old man drunk today. Teach me to drive? More like I was driving his drunk ass back to the liquor store before it closed. Been driving his drunk ass since I was 12! And that house? Yeah, I knew it was there. If that old shit had put new tires on that piece of shit car he sent me to the liquor store in, I wouldn't had a blowout, lost control and hit that house, which, by the freaking' way. ain't three feet from the damn road!"

 Oy veh!

One Last Time

By late 1951 Ralph knew that he'd soon be in Korea. And he began to take stock of himself and his short, sweet life. It had been fast cars and pool rooms; cheap beer and fist fights; it had been girls and hairpin turns; it had been fun. His daddy worked in the cotton mill, and like all mill workers, wanted something better for his son. So, Ralph grew up knowing his life's path wouldn't be strewn with cotton lint; and secure in the thought that he'd do big things - bigger things than his father did. But duty called and Korea loomed like a cold, distant planet, interrupting his plans and adding a cloud of uncertainty like he had never known. 

After he received his orders to report to Fort Jackson to begin his deployment, Ralph used his precious time to say goodbye. There were somber, heartfelt farewells and often his shoulder would be damp from the tears of past sweethearts as they said their goodbyes. He sought forgiveness as well and he searched his memory for anyone he thought he had wronged; with hopes of rectifying transgressions and soothing old hurts. He had his hand shaken by friends and and his back slapped by his numerous uncles and cousins. His dreams were vivid and the recall of long forgotten events flooded his mind in a continuous reel. With heightened senses, he walked through his families small home and, even when alone, he could he could hear the sweetness of his mother's voice echoing throughout the house - and his daddy's stern baritone bounce off the plaster walls. And the days passed quickly.

He decided that he would spend his last day in Poinsett with his family. His sisters hugged him often and spoke hopefully of a quick end to the war. His parents were quiet; but beneath their tranquility lay the fears and sorrow they hid from the family; from him. It was also decided that his Uncle Otis would drive him to the airport the next day; that the families goodbyes would be done privately. That night Ralph dreamed deeply; awaking only once to smile at the warmth of his bed, the smells of his room, and the hum of the nearby mill. And the night passed quickly.

That morning, the tears flowed and months of dread drenched Ralph's face. In the little kitchen, gentle sobs from his family hung in the dim morning light and enveloped them all in melancholy. Ralph saw the lights from his Uncle's Ford as it pulled into the driveway and felt relieved. He was ready to leave; he was ready to let go. His bags loaded in the trunk, Ralph sat back in the passengers seat and saw the Carolina sunrise as he had never seen it before: the reddish hue of the sun bouncing off the mill, the elongated shadow of the water tank on the houses across the street, the cooing pigeons; it was as if he was experiencing it all for the first time. As they turned to cross the bridge over the railroad tracks, Ralph turned to his uncle and said, "Uncle Otis, could you stop here for a second"? "Sure son". He stepped from the car and stood on the bridge that overlooked the village. His eyes followed the tracks below until they disappeared around a bend. He smiled at the hint of honeysuckle in the air. "Thanks Uncle Otis, I wanted to see Poinsett one last time".

A few weeks later Ralph's family learned of his death.

Some Chick I Knew

I think that I last saw her
Thumbing her way west
She wore a golden sari
With a diamond studded vest

She told me that she loved me
And then she turned to stone
She hit out for the freeway
I hit the trail for home

A democratic vixen
With perfect lilac eyes
She flashed them on like lightning
To cover up her lies

Her days were filled with charity
Her nights were all her own
And though she reeked of loneliness
She never was alone

She wanted my attention
She tried to own my soul
She left me feeling bitter
I left her in the cold

A sympathetic siren
With ice beneath her chest
Who wears a golden sari
And a diamond studded vest

Although my days are numbered
I’ll harbor no regret
For I was like the debtor
Who’d finally paid his debt

So, should you see her coming
Beware this siren’s test
A cold and golden sari
With a diamond studded vest

Excuse me, I must climb the pole and take a call...

Green Acres is the place to be, Faaaarm living is the life for me. For me? Well just maybe. I've at last wafted to that place in life where I just want to retire to the farm and commune with the soil. Much like Oliver Wendell Douglas, I want to work outside, far from the staleness of the boardroom, and even further from the claustrophobia of the cubicle. So, if all goes well, and God willing and the Creek don't rise (as they say), I'll soon be mixing and potting and propagating up a damn storm. I'll be fretting over frost...and cost and lack of rain. I'll be shooting the bull with Hank Kimball, the county agent; well, not the county agent, but then again, what were were talking about? Aphids? I'll be haggling with Mr. Haney; and feel pretty certain that I've wasted my money on the new equipment I just bought. I'll get to be known on a first name basis with the local general store clerk, Sam Drucker. I'll bore him to death with my former education and he and Mr. Ziffel's eyes will instinctively glaze over when I come in to the store. Back home, Ralph and Alf, the brother sister carpenter team are overcharging me for adding a master bedroom to the prehistoric farmhouse I connived my wife into buying. Meanwhile, out in the field, the ravages of mother nature are working me 16 hours a day just to stay ahead. I'm in full fledged war with pests, disease, and environment . I dream of leaf rot and smell like chicken crap - but I have faith. And what else is there after all? My faith may be an inch deep in places, but it's a mile wide and pretty damn deep when you get away from the shores of doubt and pain. And I'm up to my ying yang in tomatoes and that's a good thing. The Pomegranates are looking good and even an idiot could grow cucumbers. Occasionally, I see compatriots from my days in the cubicle and they look at me as if I have gone stark raving mad. From a man of the button down collar to the grimy little imp thrusting ears of corn at them. I can dig their consternation. Nevertheless, soon, I'll hop back in my truck with a pocket full of cash. As I drive, I'll look thankfully to the clear, blue skies and that big yellow ball that I know is heating up the Hothouse nicely. Later that evening I'll stand in the field and thank all mighty God for it all: the soil, the water, the light...and even the chicken crap.