Smilin' and Dialin': The Untold Story of Colonial Penn

I decided to start a series here on my blog. While I feel it's important to discuss my feelings about Marion's condition, I also feel it may be wise to go back and look at things that only time can give you clarity on. They say that a man is his job. Well, I can only say that I've had one job in my entire life that I gave 100% for. We'll get to that in another post. For now, I'm going to go back in time and review the jobs I've had. I think it will be an interesting and humorous look back at my accomplishments, failures, and mistakes. Perspective, I believe, is only gained after the fact. I now have full perspective of each of these jobs.

The last job I held was with the nationally known Colonial Penn Insurance company. I worked in telesales. Basically, each day we would get a new list of the people that called the 1-800 # the night before and we would call them and attempt to sell them the life insurance. It was fairly easy because, well, you were dealing with older Americans that basically had no concept of what life insurance was or why they even needed it.

Now, let me direct you behind the curtain and illustrate the dirty dealings of just how Col Penn worked. We would call the person and using a liberal script (you were encouraged to use the script as a guideline, not verbatim, as a way to sound more conversational) give them a sales pitch on the virtues of GBL or Graduated Benefit Life. Basically, GBL is a product aimed at people who are older and may not qualify for another type of life insurance. It is a good policy for those suffering from AIDS, cancer, COPD, or any other number of diseases that would otherwise disqualify from getting life insurance. The issue at hand was that most of the people that we called were doing pretty good health wise. People had a way of telling you the truth, I think. They figure we would catch their bullshit if they did lie, so I guess they didn't bother. Actually, this was one of the selling points we used. We would tell the people that we're not going to send someone out to their home and do a physical. Just pay us the premium, and you're set. Easy peasy, Japanesey.

I was good at selling the policies because I'm pretty good at bullshitting people. Honestly, it would bother me when I knew that some of these people could get better insurance from other companies if only they researched rather than called our number because they recognized Alex Trebeck. People are generally lazy and apathetic, and we offered a pretty easy solution. Just call us, and within 24 hours you can have a policy. But, I knew that it wasn't my job to tell these people they had other options (I did tell a few people). It was my job to offer false sympathy, empathy, guilt, and various other techniques to get them a policy and send back their first payment.

There was a side to all this that did wear down on me. I'm not sure if other people were bothered by it, but it always got to me. I was working here around the time my Mom passed away, and I was a wreck. The last thing you want to think about when you lose someone dear to you is death. However, at my position, death was always in every conversation. Some people would call having just lost a parent or a spouse, and since they were left in a financial bind due to the passing, they wanted to get some type of coverage for themselves and not "be a burden" to their families or loved ones. I put "be a burden" in quotations because on each call we said that phrase numerous times. In an effort to make people "feel comfortable" with their decision, we would coddle them and make them feel good about getting ripped off.

Anyway, getting back to where I was in the story, the people that were still bearing the wounds of grief were the worst for me to deal with. As I said, just losing my Mom just weeks before, my own wounds were fresh. Here I was trying to convince people that our policies were the best thing since sliced bread when I could barely functions some days due to my own grief. There was one woman in particular that lost her husband after a lengthy battle with cancer. She told me the story of Frank's life...how he was a decorated soldier in 'Nam, how he was a great provider, his musical taste, everything. It struck me halfway through the conversation that she just wanted to talk about her husband whom she missed so dearly. I wasn't about to just hurry her along and get on with my pitch. I didn't feel that was the way to deal with people. I would listen. And, dammit, I think that's what most people dealing with a loss want anyway. Too many people, however good intentioned, give advice when confronted with a loss. You know what I mean. People will tell you how long you should grieve, when you should go and pack up belongings, when to seek out additional help, and all that.

The trouble is that grief is a very personal and solitary journey. No one can tell anyone else how they should react to a loss. No one could convince me that you should do anything but listen. Offer words of comfort, but never offer any advice. Frankly, most other people will be all to happy to offer their advice (when they haven't even experienced the same type of loss as the person they are offering advice to). So, the best thing I can say is listen to someone who is suffering and in pain. Or, just sit with them. You'll do a lot more good that way.

My employment ended with Col Penn rather abruptly over some issues I'm really not at liberty to discuss here. Suffice it to say that it was not due to my numbers, as I always did a excellent job on the policies I sent out. It's not that I hated my time at Col Penn. It was that I didn't like the person it was making me become. Slowly, they were ebbing away any compassion you had and replacing it with false sincerity. I met some great people in my short time there, and have no regrets about leaving Comcast to go there. I do wish that things were handled better by everyone involved, but life is a journey that makes little to no sense anyway. John Lennon once said, "Life is what happens while you're busy making other plans." I believe that whole heartedly.

Up next, my time with a media giant, Comcast.

Pisces Fish

"Because I'm a Pisces fish and the river runs through my soul..."

I;ve been getting into George Harrison's music a lot more over the course of the past year or so. I think I really got into his music around the time of my Mom's passing. I always admired George's philosophies, and moreso how he carried himself. As part of the most influential band in the history of rock music, the way he secluded himself from the world and became a more spiritual man rather than grasping onto the spotlight...well, it always made me like the guy more.

I'll admit, I do like seeing Paul McCartney perform, but he'll never retire. I think he still puts out some quality music, but maybe he should just fade away rather than grasp at what's left of his fame. Well, as long as he doesn't do another "Ebony and Ivory", I think I can deal with Paul sticking around for the time being.

But, getting back to George, he was always the quiet one. While John was doing "bagism", George stood back quietly and let his music do his talking. And, it is through his music that you can feel comfort.

His 3 LP magnum opus, "All Things Must Pass" is such an inspiration. After the Beatles broke up, he was left with a wealth of material that the Fab Four passed over in favor of other tracks. Nearly every song on the album is either about love or looking outward to a higher power or trying to understand your place in the world. To me, life is a journey where you try and figure it all out. You need to know why you're here and what it is that you are trying to accomplish. To think of life as a sad, lonely journey toward death is so nihilistic. There has to be a meaning behind the struggles we endure. There needs to be a reason for the strife. There has to be a reason for the joy and the happiness. If there is not, then why are we here?

It's this internal struggle that dominates my thoughts. There was a time in my life when there was no question in my mind that God was real. If you questioned my faith, I would undeniably say that God was in control of all things. I would tell you that there is a plan that he has for us all. I would have told you that there is a mansion awaiting us on a street paved with gold.

But, after life has beaten you down through no fault of your own, and you see the world...this tepid cesspool for what it is, how can you be so sure that God is in control of all things? Why would God allow my Mom to suffer for the final month of her life when she steadfastly loved Him and dedicated her life to Him> Why would God make anyone suffer? If God is in control of all things, then why in the hell do people get caught in the crossfire of gang wars? Why do people suffer with AIDS, cancer, or any other number of diseases? Why do people lose loved ones long before their time?

I can not offer any answers to these questions because I don't know, and I never will. I often lie awake wondering why it all matters? Why all these struggles of just trying to get by in life. I've never harmed anyone in my life. I haven't robbed anyone...I don't make it a habit to lie...I certainly haven't killed anyone. By all accounts, I'm a pretty damn good guy...but, when my last breath is drawn, what the hell did any of it mean?

Which (kind of) brings me back to George Harrison and why I fell into his music and his philosophies. He spent his life in private and through his music trying to figure out just what this life was all about. Here was a guy who made millions by his 30's, and he was still doing music. It was through this music that he questioned not only his existence, but all of ours. He wanted to find out the answer...and maybe now that he's passed on he has found the answers.

Life has to mean more than just simply gliding by and biding your time until death comes to your door. This...it just has to mean something. If not, then why in the hell are we here anyway?

Divine Intervention

It's been a week since Marion was in the hospital. I'm happy to report that since that night, Marion has steadily been feeling better, gaining strength, and is in good spirits. I guess it could be considered a good thing that I haven't written to my blog during that time.

Tomorrow, Marion (as well as my Dad and myself) will be going to the Cooper Cancer Institute in order to get checked out and presumably to have treatments (or at least some type of plan worked out). Now, taken how the system works, things may be delayed once more. I am hopeful that once they see the size of the tumor, they take things seriously and move things along. I researched different options and plans, and the best option is the NJ CEED program. I spoke briefly about it in previous posts. Through this program, Marion will be able to get Medicare coverage (thanks LBJ and Clinton). Once the hospitals know she's covered, they'll be better prepared to help out. Sadly, that's the state of our American Health Care industry. And, yes, my friends, it is an industry.

On a different note, I wanted to talk about the recent school board shooting that could have turned into a blood bath in Florida earlier this week. When I watched the video of it earlier, I got chills. I got chills not only because the footage was, well, rather chilling. I got chills because after seeing Troy Duke fire as many as 14 shots from 15 feet away, I was convinced that there had to be some higher power at work. Whether that is God or Buddah is up for you and your own belief system to decide. But, I felt like Jules Winfield from Pulp Fiction after watching the video.

Simply put, it was as if you were watching a miracle take place.

Here's the video of Jules Winfield's Divine Intervention: (be warned: graphic language and violence).

"Wrong, wrong. The s**t doesn't just happen."

So, whatever it was that happened in Florida earlier this week, maybe it was God sending his angels down to stop the bullets, as John Travolta's character said. Whatever it was, it was amazing. Deciphering what the moral of this story rests with you, and you alone.

It's been a little while since Marion's been released from the hospital, and I've had some time to reflect on things. I love her so much, and I think it's a shame that it takes stuff like this to realize just how much you do appreciate and love someone and all they do. It's always easy to think there's a tomorrow, and that all the things you want to do you'll have a chance to do them. The thing is life likes to throw curveballs at you from time to time. Sometimes you can swing and hit a homerun. But, sometimes you swing and miss.

Cancer at any stage is devastating, I think. Facing the possibility of Stage II or III cancer is an awful feeling. I'm hoping for the best, and within the week we'll know for sure. But, what Marion needs right now is a treatment plan, not another trip to the hospital to stabilize her. She needs a prognosis and something to hope for. She needs a goal to reach for.

I hate coddling her because I know she's capable of doing things...or she was. I don't mind doing things for her at all. I cooked, washed the dishes, and went to the store today. I just love her and want her to get better. I don't think laying in bed all the time or shuffling to the kitchen is good for anyone's psyche. If you have everyone doing everything for you, you start to believe that you can't do anything. Hence, that's the issue here. While I firmly believe that she is able to do things, I can not risk her starting to bleed again.

It was a close call, I guess. After I left the hospital, her blood pressure like 60/40...which is close to coma or worse. Thank God for the staff at the hospital. Her hemoglobin count was as low as 6.5 which is classified as critical. I think it's just hitting me now just how bad things were. You kind of just go around in a daze just trying to do things because you want to stay busy and you don't want to think of the horrible shit you've just gone through. I think that's human nature in a way.

Everytime she goes to the bathroom, I'm there making sure there's no blood. So far, it's been okay. There hasn't been so much as a drop. Friday we'll be getting her checked out at the Cooper Cancer Institute, and I hope that the treatments start soon thereafter.

I love her...