Page 1 of Midlife Tiger’s Last Chance

CHAPTER ONE

Minnie

“I understand what you’re saying, Mr. Tracy, but our policy is very clear. We will only process a claim if the damage is covered by the insured’s policy. I have your policy open in front of me and I see you elected to decline fire insurance.”

The gentleman on the other end of the phone unleashes a torrent of threats and swear words in a tone that would be appropriate for a comedy about an overwhelmed single father who snaps when he comes home and finds his children have destroyed the house.

That thought brings me an inadvertent wave of sympathy for Mr. Tracy. I’m a single mother with two children of my own, and though they’re not the kind of kids who would destroy their house, they take just about every ounce of my energy.

This leaves only a small fraction of energy to devote to my job and as Mr. Tracy continues to explore inventive ways to promise the wrath of God will fall on me if I don’t approve his claim, my brief moment of sympathy fades and I interrupt him with, “Mr. Tracy, I can see this is a bad time to talk. When you’ve calmed down, please call back and I’ll be happy to have a more productive conversation with you.”

“What are you talking about?” he screams. “I called you!”

I hang up before he can continue and share a look with Jenna, the office manager and the closest thing I have to a friend.

“You think he’ll call back?” she asks.

“He will,” I say. “A few times. Eventually, he’ll realize I’m serious and call back with a much more mature attitude.”

As if on cue, the phone rings, and I answer, “Matheson Insurance, this is Minnie, how may I help you?”

“You stupid bitch!” Mr. Tracy starts. “How dare you hang up on—”

I set the phone down again and wink at Jenna, who giggles. A moment later, the phone rings again.

“Matheson Insurance, this is Minnie, how may I help you?”

“Are you fucking insane? I spend over a hundred thousand dollars a year on this policy and—”

“According to your account records,” I interrupt, “You spend one thousand two hundred twenty-four dollars a month on this policy. That equates to fourteen thousand six hundred sixty-eight dollars per year. May I suggest you speak to your finance manager to determine what happened to the other eighty-five thousand three hundred thirty-two dollars plus that you’re missing?”

“Are you listening to me? I will ruin—”

I hang up the phone and wait patiently. We go through the process three more times and on the fourth call, Mr. Tracy’s voice is far more controlled, though I can still hear the anger behind it. “I would like to dispute your denial of my claim,” he says. “If you can’t process this claim to my satisfaction, then I would like to cancel my policy.”

“Very well, Mr. Tracy,” I say sweetly. “Your policy is terminated, effective the first of next month. You will enjoy coverage through the thirtieth of this month according to the terms outlined in your—”

“Are you serious?” he shouts, his false control gone. “You’re throwing away this account over your mistake?”

I drop the customer service professionalism from my voice and say, “Mr. Tracy, I’m not sure if you thought shouting at me over the phone was going to convince me to violate my company’s policy and approve a claim that you are not entitled to, but if so, you are mistaken. You declined fire protection and you will not receive compensation for the damages your shop suffered in that fire. You have the option of adding fire protection to your current policy, but since you seem like the type to start a second fire to try to force us to pay for the first fire, I should warn you that we have a very good relationship with the state fire authority and every claim submitted for fire damage will entail a very thorough inspection by a fire authority representative prior to approval.”

“How dare you—”

“This conversation is over, Mr. Tracy. At the moment, I have your policy scheduled to be terminated effective the first of next month. If you’d like to change that election, please call our office during business hours, which have ended for today effective three minutes ago.”

“Wait!”

“Have a pleasant evening, Mr. Tracy.”

I hang up and when the phone rings again, Jenna and I ignore it as I stand and grab my keys and purse. “Another day, another dollar, right?” I say to her, “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

She frowns at me. “You don’t want to stay to meet the boss?”

I stop dead in my tracks and swear under my breath.

I totally forgot that Brock Matheson was returning today.

I’ve never actually met him. He’s been out of the country for the past two years and I only started at Matheson Insurance six months ago when I moved to this city. I’ve heard good things about him. Everyone at the office seems to revere him and a few of my new neighbors talk about him like he’s some sort of demigod. His family was one of the founding families of this town and when Brock inherited his family’s fortune, he didn’t simply rest on his laurels. In the past ten years, he’s renovated the town’s public buildings, constructed a modern park with playgrounds, fishing holes, hiking trails, and a twelve-thousand-square-foot greenhouse that highlights sustainable growth techniques. His latest project, managed from overseas, is the construction of a new, thirty thousand square foot library that, along with the usual catalog, will include a museum room with several dozen ancient manuscripts and first editions of famous works, including one of the original Dead Sea Scrolls purchased from a trust in Tel Aviv.

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