Thursday, February 25, 2016

Life Insurance and My Imaginary Friend

I cannot die. I have great confidence in corporate America. If I die it will cost them money.

Debbie came home from work today wanting to talk about life insurance. This immediately got my interest. She recently passed her conceal carry class. As far as I know she does not own a firearm but I did see her coming out of Gander Mountain recently. Neither of these things concern me greatly but gaze at one through the lens of the other and it is enough to make a man take stock of his marriage. 

But back to corporate America.

As a man with life in his limbs and breath in his lungs I am worth relatively little. Once I assume room temperature my net worth increases dramatically. You see, corporate America is betting that I will live a long time. And I am betting that I will die sooner than later. This is how the insurance industry works. Living, I buy my blue jeans at Target. Dying, I get a nice new suit from Brooks Brothers.

Today a man told me that I have an imaginary friend. We were at the gym and he had worked out much harder than I had. But that's because I'm much older than he is. These things have a way of balancing out. But as we rested in hot bubbly water he asked me what I did for a living. He looked much too smart to believe that I was a test pilot for Boeing and so I decided to go with the truth. "I am a pastor." His response was to look at me cynically and say, "Oh, you have an imaginary friend." I tried to respond with a confident look as I replied, "You bet your eternity I do." We smiled and left the conversation there. For now.

My insurance company is pretending that I'm going to live forever. The man in the hot tub is pretending that I won't. They are both right. And they're both wrong. I will live forever. But this body won't.

As for my wife, she would be much better off without me. But let's not tell her that. I promised my doctor I will live to 80 and Die of a pizza overdose. I am a lot of things, but I am not a liar.  Clearly I plan on making it. And if I don't, Debbie will be able to buy one with pepperoni for everybody.

Bon appetit!


The Dashboard Poet said...

I must die before you. This is not a wish. It is an order, which you will obey. If you do not, I will not get first pick of real estate across the River. Deal with it.