The good news is:
I won’t die because I couldn’t afford to stay alive.

The Bad news is:
I’m going to spend the rest of my life paying for the good news.

Ellen and I decided to buy some more health insurance…of the variety that comes into play when you’re old, unemployed and suddenly hit with medical bills that are enough to kill you even when you're young and prosperous. Mostly we got it cause her brother is selling it and we thought we could help him out while providing some late inning relief--which for Ellen is the same as providing current peace of mind.

But the best part of the thing is the interview. It’s over the phone and takes about 40 minutes. For the first 10 minutes you simply keep repeating the word "no" to questions regarding all the diseases and conditions that would presumably be deal breakers, the rest of the Q and A takes the form of a memory test.

The woman on the phone had a southern accent thicker than a Louisiana crayfish stew. I must have asked her to repeat half the questions—so I wouldn’t be surprised if she disqualifies me for pre-existing deafness. And in the first memory test I had to listen to (and repeat one at a time) a list of ten words. When I had echoed back each word, I was then asked to try and recall the entire list. And I had to promise (remember, we’re on the phone) that I was not writing anything down or otherwise cheating.

So I repeat back all the words I remembered.
They were: butter, letter, arm, cabin, pole, queen, grass, engine, ticket, and I can’t remember the last.

We do this a few more times, and then she asks if I can estimate how well I think I performed. I told her 8 or 9 out of 10. Okay, part one of the “Why we should give you our money (actually, it’s my money with their interest) when you’re a demented old coot” test is over.

Then she tells me that she’s going to name three animals. I am to tell her which of the three is the least like the other two. And she says that there is no right answer to any of the questions.

What? What does that mean? While I’m trying to think of the right answer, I’m also supposed to remember that there isn’t one?

Beaver, Chimpanzee, Gorilla. Hmmm, Beaver right?
(Well no, cause there is no right. Right?)
And so it goes for the next 5 minutes with camels and dogs and giraffes and goats and a few more to round out the menagerie.

Now she tells me that she would like me to repeat back as many of the animal names as I can remember--and I’m pretty sure I aced this.

Finally at the end she has one more question: “ Did you at any time during this interview use a pen or pencil or other writing device to help you with formulating your answers? “ And “ Do you swear that the answer you are about to provide is the truth?”

Ahaaa! It’s not a memory test, it’s an honesty test! But of course. I’m on the phone talking about my health history and since there’s no way the insurance company can (at a reasonable cost in a reasonable time) investigate that long long history on their own with any real accuracy—then the only way for them to determine the relative risk of insuring me is to determine the relative reliability of my character. And if I’m suffering from early onset Alzheimer’s, then you better believe I’m writing down everything. But I guess they're ready for that cause the cheats probably forget to make a few mistakes to keep their performance credible.

40 minutes on the phone because an insurance company wants to know if they can trust me. 'Is this a great country or what?'


So did I cheat?
What do you think?