Flog MetLife with a Big Rubber Dick

Fuck MetLife Auto & Home.
Got a call, today, from my credit union. Some chick with a weird accent told me that she was calling because of "all of those letters we sent you." I didn’t know what she was talking about, since A)I don’t recall getting anything from them and B) if it isn’t stamped with red and marked "Urgent" I usually figure it’s some sort of statement, advertisement, or newsletter.
"What can I do for you, m’am."
Turns out, she says that they need proof of insurance. I asked if I could bring her a card, and she said that a card wouldn’t do it, that they actually need the page of the insurance policy with the lienholder noted. I told her I’ve had my truck for over a year, why are you asking for this, now. She said that they were notified on August 10th that I was cancelled. Ok, I said, "I assure you, ma’am, I have insurance and this is just a glitch." Dun dun DAH. I got the fax number, told her I'd be in touch.
I called my insurance company. I did the obligatory conversation with the machine: "Yes. No. Another Matter. Yes." Please wait while I patch you through to a representative.
"Mr. Thompson, I’m showing that your policy was canceled on August 10th for non-payment."
OK. This is how I’ve paid my insurance for the past ten years: I get a bill, I ignore it. I get a bill in a blue envelope and then jump through my ass to pay it before they cancel me. Always a blue envelope, always a payment made. Apparently, I either missed the blue envelope or they changed color on me. There was no phone call, no email.
Now would be a good time to let you all know that I started with Met Life Auto & Home EIGHTEEN YEARS ago. Then, it was called Metropolitan. It was the Fall of 1991, I was in Massachusetts at Ft. Devins. I never had an agent in all of those years. I dealt with the company by phone or by internet. Any time I had a claim I called the 800 number. Any time I made a payment I called the 800 number.
"Ok, ma’am, how do we fix this." The whole time I’m thinking that it’s going to be alright. She patches me through to sales, because it’s been 43 days since I was canceled. I get on the phone with Phil, who’s a really nice guy. He says I’ve only been a member since ‘96, but he still thinks that because I’ve been with them so long, they might be able to reinstate me. I’m on hold for about ten minutes, he comes back. Nope. They can only reinstate me if it was their fault that I got canceled.
Ok, so I need a new policy. He starts crunching the numbers. Two accidents with NO PAYOUT from Met, no tickets, only drive two miles to work, no other licensed drivers in the house, 41 years old and driving since I was 16 . . . $972.00 for six months.
"Uh, Phil, that seems a bit steep. What was I paying before?" Now, I’m pretty sure I was a little under $600.00 every six months, but he doesn’t know because I was cancelled and it shows "premium 0" on my account. I can’t help but think that they have records, though. He explains that it’s a higher amount than what I was paying, but that’s what is going to be the case anywhere I go. Whatever, I screwed up, I’m going to have to pay. Might as well get used to the idea. I mean, the guy already tried to get me reinstated, he looked for discounts with my credit union, my job, etc. He’s doing everything he can.
"How much do I have to pay on the first payment?"
"Unfortunately, because this is a new policy, you’ll have to pay the full amount up front."
This is when the yelling began. "If you’re telling me that I have to give you $972.00 RIGHT NOW then we are DONE. There’s no way I can afford that! I’ll NEVER be able to afford that!"
"Well, I did everything I could. It is what it is."
"Did You Just Say ‘It Is What It Is?!" CLICK!
I HATE that phrase. It doesn’t mean anything; it will NEVER mean anything. It’s just another way to say "Oh Fucking Well!"
I slammed my phone on the desk, went out side and breathed heavily for a couple minutes. Do the math: eighteen years of premiums. I’ve always had insurance which means I’ve always PAID somebody to have insurance. For the last eighteen years, that somebody has been Met. It’s the LAW that I have to pay insurance. If I’m supposed to pay you, and it behooves you that I do, why wouldn’t you make a more conscious effort to let me know that I owe you money? Oh, I know why: SO YOU CAN WAIT TWO MONTHS AND THEN DICK ME. Then, when I call you because I need something, all you want to do is come in my mouth. No loyalty. I’ve been giving you money every three months for eighteen years and THIS is how you treat me?! Like I’m some sort of criminal? A beggar? Somebody off of the street asking YOU for a favor? You should fall down on your knees and thank God for clients like me.
Well, I have to pay that money to somebody, so I decided that somebody would NEVER be MetLife Auto & Home, again. (Of course, it helped that I couldn’t afford it) I did what any self-respecting adult male would do in this situation, I called my Mom.
My mom, who also happens to be an insurance agent. My NEW premium: $579.00. First payment: $200.00. Mom is writing it up, and I’ll drop the money off to her whenever my direct deposit goes through. So much for this being "the case for anywhere I go." Now, I'm really tempted to call sales and rub it in their faces, then call an adjuster and tell them that I HAVEN'T been working at Staples for the past eight years, I've been driving into Baltimore and Look At All That Money I Didn't Give You Because I Lied To Your Fascist Asses. One little lie=Thousands of dollars saved. No accidents in Baltimore, so that would have been waisted money they would have used the commuter excuse to get from me.

The only really funny part about this is when I called Mom and she was running the numbers she asked, "When is Nerva moving out?"
Now, I knew that she was counting her as another driver in the home (even though she has no license), so I said, "She just moved out, Mom."
"Really?"
"Yep. She’s moved out. She’s GONE."
"When did she move out?"
"Right when I called you for insurance."