The wonderful world of auto insurance premiums
Insurance is a necessary part of life. I am happy to pay the premiums knowing that if a meteorite weighing 473.32 kg (no more, no less) strikes my car during a slight drizzle during a breeze measuring only 1.001 mph on a sensitive graph located underground somewhere on the African continent at 0203 hours, any damage to the left rear door only will be covered. And only if the car is painted ripe hazelnut puce. Restrictions will be strictly adhered to.
Up through the fog of my elderly brain some months ago rose the thought that my auto insurance premiums seemed a bit high considering certain changes in my life. So after various checks, cross-checks, consultations with some quatrains of Nostradamus, studying some ancient astral charts and calling my insurance agent, it was found to be so. Yes, there was an error. I had been paying too much.
I rubbed my hands together with much glee and aloe cream and waited for a refund check to appear. It did, and for the exact amount earlier expressed by my agent. All was now well in my world.
Soon I received my proof of insurance status and that my premium for the next six months was
Hold on. How could my premium increase
I am generally right. In this case, I was right. A month passed. Then I received another letter. This one had so many pages in it that I was pretty certain several trees had fallen in the forest and a lot of creatures heard them as they fell and were dragged off.
Its cover letter notified me that my six-month premium due shortly was
There is another part of this thing. I am not sure I trust a major corporation who sends me letters signed by someone who puts gold snowflakes all around her name and little smiley faces and hearts between the letters of my name. Are they hiring 11-year-olds?
It is time to line up bowls of pecans, caramels, pretzels, glasses of iced tea, chocolate milk and a pea shooter with ammunition. I need sustenance when I must begin the process of calling this company and going deep to reach someone who can sort out the actual amount of my premium. I know I will answer many robotic voices before reaching a human.
That is the reason for the pea shooter. While I wait, I can fire peas at a small waste basket that sits in another room. If I miss, the cats will chase them. And soon learn they are not fond of peas. I am not fond of confusing premium statements.
Do some companies base premiums on which stage the moon is in? Or who won the World Series? Actually, I did reach a human voice in less than 24 minutes. I was told amount No. 1 is due in six months, No. 2 is due now and to throw away any other statements.
I carefully noted the name of this person, the time he said it, the date, the weather and what I was wearing. Just in case.
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