Monday, November 05, 2007

Fuck you Farmer's

I'm not a big fan of physical violence. (Hear me out!) Even though we have a little bitty obsession with watching every brutal, action-packed bloody movie we can get our hands on, I really don't like real-life fighting such as angry fists smashing into a drunken face or chunks of hair yanked out at the roots. I've been witness to a few brawls that left me sick to my stomach and giggling uncontrollably like an escaped lunatic because I'm blessed with inappropriate reactions to extreme stress. (Don't ever hurt yourself in my presence or I'll practically piss myself laughing. Sorry in advance.)

And I especially don't like getting to that scary angry place where my eyes turn from light brown to murderous gold because it's more adrenaline than my body can handle and one of these days I'm really going to take a shovel to the back of some bitch's skull and lord knows I'll get caught and be on trial and probably an episode of Dateline, dubbed the Ample Assed Assasin, then end up in prison as some woman's wife and we all know I make a much better husband than a beotches slammer squaw.

However, there are certain people, places, times where a swift punch to the throat is not only warranted it's deserved. Very much deserved. One such person is the condescending twat from my auto insurance company I had the displeasure of speaking to recently. That bitch kept me on the phone for a useless 45 minutes before I finally had to tell her that it was all dumb and a waste of time and can you please go fuck yourself gently with a chainsaw? Kthxbai.

A few weeks ago I received a confusing letter from my insurance company asking me about how many approximate miles a year I drive. According to some mysterious information they magically obtained they realized they were off on their estimation. The letter stated if I agreed with them I could do nothing. If I protested please sign and return.

In the very small portion of my brain that's able to work out riddles of logistics I realized the way they worded the letter didn't quite make sense and I wanted to know where the hell they got this info anyway and what did it all mean. Did someone install a Lo-Jack in my ass while I wasn't looking? Just what was that nurse practitioner doing down there at my annual last year?

Anyway, I called and got an insurance drone person on the phone, we'll call her, Cunterella, and she proceeded to confuse me more by saying things like, "I don't know where we get that info" and "it might raise your rates", and "I don't know if you should sign and return if you agree so you should sign and return it." All very informative and committal, as you can plainly see.

I mentioned that I had no idea where they got the idea I only drive 7500 miles a year because I work 20 miles from my office and we don't live in a commuter city and if you think I'm taking a fucking bus anywhere you've clearly smoked your breakfast and dropped acid with your pre-lunch chocolate cherry Yoplait whipped fucking yogurt. And I shouldn't be penalized because of it. The best I could get was some hemming and hawing and an I don't know maybe. Great.

A few days later my renewal bill for the next 6 months only came in the mail with $70 added to the total. Seventy stinking bucks! Now, that might not seem like a lot, which in the scheme of things isn't, but when you've just spent a grand on an almost totally fucked up vacation and another grand on hotel rooms, air purifiers, junk food and carpet cleaners because of San Diego Fire Storm 2007, and when you took a look at the bills vs. budget death match title fight and the bills kicked the living shit out of the budget seventy dollars felt like seven fucking hundred.

I called back, extremely unhappy, to ask WTF and why for? Lucky me I once again got to speak to Cunterella and today she was wearing her slick-as-shit sweater & nothing I said got to her. The more irate I got the more condescending she became. It was infuriating. She was a frothing ass-sucking crap bag. And please understand, she earned those titles. She was rude and interruptive and the patronization dripped down her fucking chin like grease from a Paula Dean pork chop.

She actually tried to make a point by telling me she paid more than I did for her insurance. I'm sorry, am I supposed to give a flying fuck about that? But the comment that really put me over the top was delivered with enough saccharine to grow a watermellon-sized tumor on a lab rat, "Insurance isn't a savings account." Oh no you di'int.

Why we blathered on for so long I have no idea. It was clearly past her closing time and nothing I said was going to do any good. I finally had to tell her the endeavor was pointless and stupid and I was done. It hadn't mattered a bit that I said her company sucked and what they did to me sucked and I wouldn't have been so pissed if I was told WHEN I CALLED THE FIRST TIME that my rate was going to go up like that because I'm in the corporate world too and I know better. I know someone would have been able to tell me a definitive yes, we will be bending you over your checkbook you'll take it and like it, bitch. Then I wouldn't have been so surprised by the shaft shoved up my butt.

I just hate insurance companies. Or at least I hate the way they do business. I'm glad they're there and I've been fortunate to save a lot of money in the last few years because I'm no cheap date, but I loathe the way they have you by the balls all the time. They make billions upon billions while we get barely get compensated. We pay them thousands of our hard-earned dollars and they act like they're going to file chapter 11 if they have to pay out the 10% it costs them when there's a normal claim. I firmly believe insurance agencies are the legalized mafia. Just without the shiny track suits. They have doctors in their back pockets and decide our fates at every turn, mostly not in the consumers favor. I fucking hate it.

I sincerely hope the thousand plus people in my town who lost homes last month in the fires don't run up against this kind of shit. Gawd help those people or supply them with lots of brand new shovels.


NouveauBlogger said...

From your title, I thought you had issues with Farmers, as in cows and corn. No surprise it was insurance though. Everyone has issues with insurance.

Avalon said...

I was trying to sympathize with yo Betty, but I am oddly stuck on " fuck yourself gently with a chainsaw".

I have used chainsaws in my long and illustrious life, but never for that.

Sugapie said...

If you have recently had to smog your car for registration purposes they can figure out your mileage that way...they are somehow tied into and can access DMV records. I agree with you Betty, insurance companies friggin SUCK!!

krishanna said...

OMFG! I have pissed myself laughing...I thought I was the only who went off like that...are you sure you aren't really me? Shit like that makes you want to stick a grenade up her ga-zing-ga and pull the pin...
You reminded me of this.

I L-O-A-T-H-E bureaucratic ineptitude.

Anonymous said...

Cunterella. That is freaking priceless. I almost fell of my seat.