15. My Friendly Insurance Agent

Several months ago I decided it would be wise to investigate the possibilities of buying a life insurance policy, if for no other reason than because I understood it might be a good investment. I got the name of an insurance agent from a friend and called the agent to get some information. From the kinds of questions I put to him, the agent could tell that I knew nothing about insurance, so he kindly offered to explore the matter with me in more detail—to help me determine the kind of policy I ought to be considering.

That evening he appeared at my door promptly at 7:30; without wasting time on amenities, he spread his papers out on the kitchen table and launched into a lengthy explanation. I listened attentively as he talked about the difference between various types of policies, and he explained the kind of coverage he felt I ought to have because of my age bracket and financial objectives. Toward the end of the evening (after three or four hours of talking), he kindly helped me fill out an application for a $50 000 policy, and then he asked if I could go to a Dr. Luther's office on Friday for a physical examination.

I don't know why, but it was not until the mention of the doctor's appointment that I realized fully what was happening. I was about to sign lifetime contract, yet I had not really made a decision about whether I wanted to buy the policy or not. As a matter of fact, the question of a need for a decision from me one way or the other had not even come up. Suddenly I felt sure that I definitely did not want to buy the policy. However, since he had spent so much time with me, I didn't want to make him feel that he had wasted his time. So I invented an excuse about things I had to do on Friday, and I assured him I would call him in a few days. Actually, I had no intention of going to see Dr. Luther or of calling the agent again. I wanted to forget the whole thing.

It's been over three months now since our meeting, and my friendly insurance agent still calls at my office faithfully two or three times a week. My secretary knows that I don't want to talk to him, so when he calls she tells him that I'm in a meeting or that I'm out of the office or that I'm away on a business trip. I realize now that it was a mistake not to tell him that first night that I didn't want the policy. Since I still can't bring myself to tell him outright that I'm not interested, and please not to bother me anymore, all I can do is avoid his calls and hope I don't run into him some place.