Dear Insurance,
You are a bully and a thug.
It took years for me to be able to articulate that phrase so do me the kindness of reading it over and over again until you understand.
You courted me with your benefits package and your free coffee. Like the 20-year-old sap that I was six years ago, I smiled and basked in the warmth of a stable job. How pleased I was! After all, it was only temporary until someone gave me a writing gig or an internship.
Then you gave me a cubicle and my heart leapt. I can't tell you how delighted I was to have my very own space to do my very important work for my very serious company. I loved it. I even bought a plant to make the place feel more like home.
Then after six months, once you'd realized that I wasn't an idiot and could actually do more than generate certificates of insurance and file, you gave me my own book of business. * Gasp* Clients of my own! Why thank you, Insurance! I had never felt more fulfilled in my life. Phone calls, emails and dare I say it...business trips. Pinch me! I must be dreaming.
After two years, I'd earned two certifications and was already supervising a team of four. But you didn't give me the raise I deserved. In fact, you penalized me for applying for jobs within the company and publically chastised me for even wanting to discuss my paycheck. After all, you argued, it is a privilege to work in insurance.
You let a senior-level broker page me constantly, to the point that she would send people into the bathroom to find me if she needed something. Because, clearly the three minutes I'd spent away from my desk were cutting into her profit margin and she needed answers. You let her and others like her get away with that.
You fostered an environment where it was not only normal for wealthy brokers to overwork their employees, but tolerated- even encouraged. Because let's face it. In this economy, I'm lucky to have a job right?
Almost six years later, I'm angry, Insurance. Your culture allows brokers to use any means necessary to make a sale. Your customer service representatives are forced to tread water in positions for which they are grossly over qualified because you put revenue above all else.
Now, I can't blame you for the economy (though I'd like to, Insurance. I really would).
I also can't blame you for how long I've been working for you because it was my choice to take that first job. I could have waited for something more appropriate to come along but jobs were scarce...and I was afraid.
So my résumé now tells the story of a girl who works long hours for an industry that doesn't value her, in a position that makes her sad.
But you know what, Insurance?
Someday, when someone finally decides to give me a shot doing something I love, I will be rid of you forever. I will let my license expire and I will happily dance naked around a bonfire of insurance textbooks....
I wanted you to know that it might look like I'm trapped now, but I am digging my way out.
You don't deserve me.
Kind Regards,
A Customer Service Representative
This article is copyrighted by Travelers Today, the travel news leader
