Ode to the Insurance Monster

 

 

Barack, your campaign was built around the word “hope.” I hope you can figure this one out.

 

One snowy, miserable Boston morning last year, between coughing spells and nearly biting the nurse’s hand, I was tested for Strep Throat and a number of other various diseases which almost certainly had it in for my final exam grades. My insurance company, Aetna, covers me as a student. It always has, and as a healthy kid, I pay more than enough each month so it continues to do so.

 

However, as the notices and bill reminders began arriving, I worried it was time for a phone call. The workers at Aetna, as it turns out, didn’t feel like processing that claim as they rightfully should. They sent me the hefty bill from Quest Diagnostics instead.

 

Then, Aetna sent me to collections for not paying it.

 

I’m aware that accidents happen with large companies, but I always assumed that they were followed by apologies and attempts to rectify the situation with the valued customer. Companies are as decent as the people who work for them, and in my experience people are usually pretty decent. When somebody pulled my five-foot long pigtails on the playground in kindergarten, they would always give me a (granted, usually forced) “I’m sorry.” When a professor mismarked a grade last year, he changed it and apologized. The trend in people consists of admitting, changing and fixing. But the employees of Aetna did none of these.

 

The company must have some inhuman special status that allows it to treat others with total disrespect. I have yet to hear from them (or the collections agency) that the mistake was theirs, that they give their deepest sympathies, and that with my otherwise perfect credit score, I will surely be able to get a loan someday for a house or car. At the ripe age of 20, and with zero experience fighting massive corporations and their phone trees, I can’t even fathom how to take action on my behalf.

 

Insurance companies know best how difficult it is to change insurance companies, and that willing or not, I will be their devoted customer. Is this the root of the problem? Does a guaranteed customer base mean a company can do whatever is financially beneficial to them, no matter the consequences?

 

This guaranteed customer base keeps the Insurance Monster, in fact, a monster. Thus I turn to the newest ray of hope in our country to solve a problem that is beyond me. As I grow older I am learning that sometimes, we just have to turn for help.

 

 

Barack, I know you have met the Monster.  I know that it stole possibly years of your grandmother’s life. I also know that compared to that situation, mine is pretty minuscule. However, I can’t really afford five hundred dollars or the hit my credit score took. I know I’m just the little guy, but please, please dive in and fight the monster that ruins us. I leave the task to you.

Best,

Laura Wolf

A tribute to a terrible Bad Religion song.

The other day during my New Media & PR class over at BU, we were discussing the importance of blogging in times of crises. As temperamental, questionable, controversial and uncontrollable as the blogosphere can be, especially when it comes to PR, it has its moments. For corporations, blogging can be the fastest way to buy time and show that your company is listening. And for people, blogging in times of crisis can give the fastest, most updated information to the ones who need it the most.

 

I’ve been a little depressed lately. The job hunting is going nowhere, my cash is drying up, and I lost exactly half of my socks in the dryer last night. More relevant here, my blog also tends to pick out ethical fallacies in people and corporations of today’s world. Yesterday’s class was a little renewal of my faith in people, even in hard times. Hopefully it can do the same for you, my similarly confused and worried friends.

 

I’ve lived in several places now, but only San Diego is the one I call home. Last year while I was away at school studying for midterms, my home began to burn.

 

All I got from mom and dad were scattered calls at 4 a.m., the only time of day the cell phone towers weren’t dropping calls or preventing service altogether. I gathered through scattered messages when my neighborhood was evacuated via the reverse-911 system. I picked up broken stories about my neighbors watching their homes catching fire as they jumped into their swimming pools for safety, and others suffocating in their garages which they couldn’t open in the smoky darkness. The pictures in the newspaper were as orange and eerie as the fires four years previously.

 

Now the reason this class resurfaced these memories I so wish I’d forget was because of the way new media has changed the way we communicate in all crises, and that as scary and fritzy as I make this world out to be, humans morals in this case did not disappoint.

 

We were told to keep our cell phones off during peak hours, so this Millenial plugged straight into the internet. A quick google search yielded facebook groups with updated information and blogs with pictures of the damage. As citizens weren’t allowed in evacuated areas, real reporters couldn’t give accurate, updated reports. Citizen journalists, thus, were the ones who crossed the lines illegally and gave the most up-to-date information on the damage.

 

It was unbelievably reassuring to be updated on a situation that was so far away from me but so close to my heart. People I’d never even met were risking their lives to keep the rest of us in the know. As I studied furiously and held tears back, I surfed several blogs with pictures of the damage and lists of addresses of standing homes. I found out that my friend down the street who took me to the prom was now among the homeless. I even saw a picture posted on a facebook group that was taken from my front lawn and facing the house across the street, where a cop stood watching homes burn.

 

It was a surreal part of my life, that’s for sure. And it’s pretty amazing that people could be so kind, even in this day and age, and even after all my cynical blogging. I hope these strangers realize just how much they helped me. Here’s to you.

 

Special thanks to the operators of this blog.

And here is a link to that godawful song, if you didn’t already recognize it.

 

Best,
Laura Wolf