The life of an insurance agent and an analysis of old Turkey

Years ago, I watched a movie. It told the success story and career path of a young woman working in life and health insurance in New York. 

It showed how quickly she climbed the ladder, how she became a CEO in no time, her dazzling lifestyle, her beautiful cars, her homes, her handsome and muscular boyfriends who were essentially 'hook-and-use' accessories, her Far East vacations, stock market tips, photos with bureaucrats, jewelry, and so much more. 

Of course, there is another side to the story: the misery of the people she insured.

Those who experienced disappointment because they were too lazy to read dozens of pages and simply trusted their insurance agent.

It describes the attitude of the security guard at the hospital door when they fell ill, how they were kicked out of the hospital, and the treatment processes that were not covered during their most difficult times.

Even if you did read those pages, were a conscious consumer, and had your entire health process fully insured.

There is still no good scenario for you.

Hospital bills that they resist paying. 

Tasks pushed uphill.

Unanswered phone calls. 

Despite all regular premium payments, the gift from the stone-walled insurance company is a foreclosure notice arriving at your home.

The insurance agent you call when you encounter the foreclosure notice, 

their indifferent, annoying demeanor, 

their acknowledgment of how right you are, 

their dismissive way of speaking, 

passing the buck to the company's top brass to get themselves out of the situation,

and the lies about how uncomfortable he himself was.

Meanwhile, he would mention that he knew a lawyer who understood health matters very well.

All these processes happened to two people I know very well.

They died. 

And they died after being thoroughly fleeced by the hospital, despite having private health insurance.

The private health insurance company refused to pay, claiming that some of the expenses were outside the scope of coverage.

Much like the saying 'a patient is loved while in their hospital bed,' the robbery became a two-sided affair.

When they were healthy, the insurance company robbed them with beautiful dreams, and when they fell ill, the network at the hospital robbed them with dreams of recovery.

I always thought about the possibility that these things might happen to me one day.

Today, it happened.

I went to a hospital contracted with my private health insurance for a very simple wart on my finger.

I had the examination for free.

The doctor prescribed a simple treatment.

So far, so good.

When I went to the secretary, she told me that the treatment was not covered.

When I said I had private health insurance, she claimed that the doctor's 'treatment' was not under the private contract.

I asked how.

I asked if it was true that there was an agreement for an "examination" but no agreement for "treatment"?

He said that was the case.

Anyway, since the cost of the treatment wasn't high, I accepted.

He said it couldn't be done immediately.

Apparently, the machine to be used for the treatment was out of gas.

I asked when this gas would arrive.

They said it might arrive today or tomorrow.

I said, if it's tomorrow, there's no problem, 

I said I would come.

They said, 'No, don't come, we'll call you.'

Oh, you liberal types who curse the old Turkey.

The old Turkey was poor, it was damaged, 

perhaps its engine didn't always have gas, but at the very least, it would feel sorry for our situation, seek a solution, and find one.

I forgot the name of the film. But there is no need for it anyway. 

There are very few left who haven't experienced stories like this.