11:09 p.m. | 2005-11-29 Wise Word. A long, long time ago, I worked in an insurance claims department. I was one of two people who did intake (dealing with insureds/claimants face-to-face) and processing (dealing with shops/lawyers/other parties face-to-face). It’s a thankless job. Every single person you deal with has a problem. Every single one is decidedly unhappy. One day, a sweet-looking elderly women appeared at the counter. I knew from experience that looks can be very, very deceiving. My counter partner took a pass on her – we had a system – so I stepped up. Here’s what happened. (CI:) Good morning. How can I help you? (OlderWoman:) How can you help me?! Someone ran into me! My car is ruined. How can you help me? FIX IT. (CI:) Okay. Are you insured with us? (OW:) I don’t know. Why are you asking me questions? FIX IT. (CI:) Can you tell me what happened? (OW:) I already told a dozen people what happened, including my agent. You? YOU want me to tell it again?! Someone called me and told me to come here and it’d all be fixed. FIX IT. (CI:) Okay. We’ll fix it. (OW:) Thank you. (CI:) Would you like some coffee, water? (OW:) Water please. (CI:) Have a seat, I’ll bring you some water. (OW:) Thanks you, Miss. (I was young then.) (CI:) Here’s your water. (I looked up a bunch of stuff and located her file. She was a claimant.) Looks like one of our insureds ran into you. That must’ve been awful. (OW:) Oh, I’m in such a quandary. (CI:) (Chuckling inside. A quandary? Heh. Like in a pickle? At my young age, those were grandma words.) Tell me about it. (OW:) Oh. My husband died a couple of months ago. He did all the driving and handled the insurance and everything. After he died, I had to learn how to drive. I did. Except, it scares me. Then my friends wanted to cheer me up by going out and so I had to drive THE CAR. My HUSBAND’s CAR. (CI:) The Nova? (OW:) Yes. The Nova. He loved that car. Now, it’s wrecked. (CI:) Yeah, it is. It’s awful that our insured ran a red light and hit you. But, it can be fixed and we’ll take care of that. (OW:) You will? (CI:) Sure. I’m glad you drove it here today. Look outside. See that guy right there? He’s running up an estimate for the repairs. I’ve run all the paperwork and all you need to do is take these papers outside to him and he’ll tell you how to get it fixed. (OW:) Really? (CI:) Yes, really. (OW:) Thank you so much. I’m been so lost since my husband died. I’m sorry I was rude to you… it’s just… it’s just all this driving and insurance and… all this... He used to take care of it all. I don’t know what to do. (CI:) I’m so sorry for your loss and it must be really scary to handle all these things but you’re fine. You did it. All you need to do now is go talk to the adjuster and he’ll set you up. You’re good to go. (OW:) Thank you, Sweetie. (CI:) You’re welcome. That whole exchange seems all nice and sweet, and it was (except that part where she kept yelling at me), in fact, she wrote a letter about me and I received a customer service award. Which was nice and much appreciated. But what you don’t know is what happened behind the scenes. First off, I’d never heard “quandary” used in a sentence. I knew what it meant and had seen the word many times in the books I read. However, the absolute best way to be introduced to that word is to have an elderly (70’s), middle-class, church-going, white woman, dressed to the nines, tell you, in a desperate way, that the situation that she’s in “is just a quandary”. After she’s just exited a fire-engine red, totally tricked out 1960’s-something Chevy Nova with a slight dent. Couple that with the fact that it’s actually Halloween and her claims adjuster just happens to be convincingly dressed as Spock (Star Trek) with pointy ears and everything. Triple that with the fact that she doesn’t even notice that he’s in costume but tells me that he seems really “familiar” to her. For the cherry on top? Her adjuster and I had this conversation. (CI:) Hey. I don’t mean to rush you but can you look at the Nova straight away? The claimant’s (discretely nodding her way) husband recently passed away and she’s in quite a “quandary”. (Adjuster:) A quandary? You mean, like “in a pickle”? Like a grandma kind of “pickle”? (CI:) Yeah, Spock. It’s that kind of pickle. (A:) Okay. Sure. What car is it? (CI:) The fire-engine red 1960’s-something tricked out Chevy Nova. (A:) That’s the car she (discretely nodding her way) was driving? (CI:) Yeah, that’s the one. Can you look at it right away? (A:) Are you kidding? He was out the door so fast. I watched them through the windows. A Spock look-a-like (he really nailed that look) and a totally clueless elderly woman hovering together over a fire-engine red totally tricked out Chevy Nova. He handled her with kid gloves – since she was in a quandary and whatnot – and she got through the ordeal like a champ. Right before she left, she thanked me once again. I took that opportunity to ask where she was headed (to meet her lady friends) when the accident occurred. She hadn’t gone more than a couple of miles when she was hit but she was heading towards a gambling mecca. Quite a quandary, I’d say. your thoughts? seed flower