The Debit

By William Daneliak

Grant Davis was a Life Insurance salesman who worked hard to become the top agent in his office. However as time passed, his drinking problem took control of his life, and his successful days as the top agent in his office were well behind him. To turn things around he just needed a bit of help and luck, which he believed was finally coming his way. The problem was that to take advantage of the opportunity presented to him, he had to decide what price he was willing to pay and at what cost to those who loved him.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Peter Daneliak
• Release date: Dec 4, 2021
• ISBN: 9798201328764

William Daneliak

William Daneliak has lived in the Ottawa area all of his life and has worked in the financial services industry for the past 40 years. "The Arlingtron Gang", available on Apple Ibooks, Kogo, Amazon, Barnes and Noble, and Google Play, is the first novel published by this author. You can contact the author at: [e-mail].

Book preview

Prologue: 1944

The submarine glided silently along the coastline, ever vigilant of being detected. The rendezvous was planned specifically for a moonless night and in the conning tower a small man dressed like a farmer had relentlessly scoured the coastline for the flicker of a light. The journey had been long and fraught with danger, but Hans Gruber was adamant that his mission was to be completed successfully. The submarine U-1230 had its hull specially fitted and modified. The torpedo weaponry was cut in half to allow a special cargo of two heavy crates to be stored, and other than the co-ordinates, the captain Max Schiller was told nothing of the purpose of the dangerous voyage. He was anxious to complete the foolish mission that put both him and his crew at risk. They were hardened veterans who were not afraid of action, having sunk numerous tonnages of enemy ships that travelled the Atlantic, but a voyage to drop one person off in enemy territory so far away from home was ludicrous. Hans Gruber, looking down at the captain, whispered urgently that he saw the flickering light marking the landing site. In moments, two lifeboats were tethered together and launched with the special cargo secured to them. After a curt goodbye, Hans disembarked and was rowed towards the flickering light. This would be the most dangerous part of the journey. Detection would be unacceptable.

Two Quebecois, who were young Nazi sympathizers anchored the boat. They brought the crates and placed them on a nondescript truck, while waiting anxiously for their orders.  Hans smiled as he watched as the U 1230 slowly submerged. His two male associates went to secure the crates in the bed of the truck and as their backs were turned Hans shot both of them. He used a suppressor to muffle the noise. He immediately removed their clothing and identification, then tied and weighted down the bodies and dropped them into the St. Lawrence. While he casually smoked a cigarette, Hans drove the truck away. In his possession was a map of both Quebec and Ontario and identification papers that were prepared for him in Germany. He was well prepared for his mission, having already religiously researched both Provinces, practicing both languages, English and French, until he was able to speak either language fluently. He also learned the nuances of language that was unique to Canadians, remembering the lesson learned when previous agents were dropped off in Quebec thinking that their French was perfect. Unfortunately their dialect was Parisian, not French Canadian, arousing suspicion and leading to their eventual capture.

Eric Reimer like all those in the submarine was curious of the stranger’s mission and the mystery that surrounded him. He knew he was a high-ranking official by the way he barked orders at his captain who was not easily pushed around and considered his authority to be absolute. As he entered the stranger’s cabin, he thought he may find something good to drink; these big shots always had the best. He checked the small enclosure, and the cabinet was empty. As he turned to leave disappointed, he heard a faint beep which didn’t correspond to any of the many noises that were prevalent on a submarine. He searched and finally found the source covered under the pillow and as he looked down in horror, he saw a red light which had been flickering, stop. It was the last thing he would ever see. A few days later portions of U boat 1230 were found in the Atlantic by a Canadian cruiser and although the Canadian captain found it curious, he recorded it as sunk, just another success for the Allies in their quest for supremacy over the Atlantic Ocean. In Germany, there was no record of the mission or what it entailed. Officially the submarine was listed as lost at sea, sunk by the enemy.

Ottawa 1987

Grant Davies was tired and much older than his forty-five years. The truth was he needed a drink badly even though it was only three in the afternoon. He sat in his car, packed with trash and a few hidden empty beer bottles. He was consumed with trying to clean his tie which had a series of grease spots from the chicken dinner that he had just ate. He only made it worse and finally gave up. He was saddened to think of how far he had fallen since joining By Town Life Insurance or better known as BLI, where he was now considered a veteran agent. In his early years he was a rising star who was known for his expensive suits and immaculate appearance. Now his cuffs were frayed, jacket too small and his stomach which appeared to be trying to escape from the confines of his shirt as the buttons frantically held everything together gave him an appearance of an individual down on his luck. He knew what brought him to this pitiful state but was unable to stop the downslide. He drank originally to acknowledge his success. It was easy, Life insurance appointments were generally completed in the evening when both spouses were home and the comradery that prevailed in the industry was always around. A quick return to the office would find someone to celebrate his sales with and ultimately one drink led to another. Eventually he also realized that success wasn’t a pre-requisite, no one cared and there were always a few agents ready to drink with into the early hours of the morning. The dialogue would be different as they grumbled about office politics and the reasons that they were unsuccessful, none of it their fault of course. In his downward slide he lost his wife, she divorced him long ago and he had virtually no contact with his children. He needed a break, a big sale and then he would change, stop the drinking, clean himself up and try to repair his relationship with his two daughters who were in their twenties. But not now, not today, he was picking up his debit in his allotted territory which was situated in the blue-collar area of Ottawa. Every month he visited his clients and collected their premium trying to initiate conversation that would lead to new referrals that he could sell. He was responsible for ensuring payment was received and if unsuccessful he was to fill out the necessary form to officially lapse the unpaid plans.

He opened the car door and slowly got out of his car gingerly, pain was all too prevalent whenever he moved. It was a hot August afternoon and he grabbed his debit book from the back seat. The three row houses were his clients’, and the worst was the one that the old bastard, John Crozier lived in. He was a miserable son of a bitch who had a small policy and acted like he was the most important person on the planet. Grant tried on numerous occasions to have him pay the policy on a semi-annual basis if not annually but to no avail. Crozier would only comment that Grant was too lazy to do his job and pick up the premium every month and, on many occasions, he would ridicule Grant’s appearance. Grant had not always had a poor territory, he had one of the most affluent areas that covered western Ottawa, but his drinking got in the way, neglected phone calls, poor service and questionable sales had him removed. His only two options were to quit or take debit 33 covering a poorer area of town. He swallowed his pride and accepted the demotion. He slowly climbed the stairs and rang the bell. He could hear the hurried movement of someone approaching and yelling.

Quit ringing the bell, I’m coming. I’m coming!

As the door was opened, an unfriendly faced appeared snarling,

Oh, it’s you, weren’t you to be here a week ago, what happened the tavern get in your way!? 

Grant tried to make light of the comment, after all he still believed he could get the old fart to surrender his dividends and cash value to buy another policy, maybe even $20,000 of whole life. He could have the existing plan pay for at least two years premium and that way remove the threat of a charge back of commission to him. The Company had a promotion which would underwrite a plan as high as that with only a few medical questions, it was offered to preferred policy holders. He smiled and said,

No, Mr. Crozier the tavern comes after I pick up your premium.

Well come in, come in, don’t let the heat destroy the little bit of relief that I have in the house.

As they walked along the corridor to the small office, Mr. Crozier said sarcastically,

I see you had that greasy chicken again, was it good?

Grant wanted to kill the old guy.

How would you know that?

I can smell it and also see the grease stains that you unsuccessfully tried to remove on your tie. Don’t you take pride in your profession, why would anyone buy from the likes of you?

Grant just stared at him and clenched his fists.

Sit down, sit down, how much do I owe this month?

Mr. Crozier it is the same this month and every month since you bought the plan forty years ago, five dollars and sixty-five cents.

Why should I keep this plan, I have no wife, no children or relatives, it seems to me to be a waste of money?

Every time like clockwork Grant had to explain the importance of life insurance and how little the asshole was paying presently for the coverage. $67.20 was all he paid over a year yet between the cash value and dividends, the return in the plan had been $250, a profit of $182.80 this year alone. Also, since he didn’t have anyone to leave the money to, Grant would mention that it would be nice to leave it to a charity. Every time he would have to sit and listen to him berate the social system in Canada and how people should not be given charity but should work like he did. Yet he never cancelled, Grant thought he just enjoyed toying with him. God, he hated him!

As Grant sat there, the old man bent down from his desk and opened the safe where he kept his premium book. The way in which he did it you would think that he had a million dollars in there. Nothing in the house indicated a rich lifestyle and why would anyone live here if they were rich. Grant rolled his eyes as he placed his debit book on the desk and opened it up to the page for John Crozier. The small receipt book that the old fart had was reluctantly given to Grant as Crozier watched him with a look of mistrust. Grant accepted the premium to the dollar and entered payment in his debit book and dated the entry paid. He then did the same for the premium book and as always, the old shit perused the entry like it was some highly classified document, expecting an error or Grant cheating him. After a minute, he reluctantly nodded and proceeded to bend to replace the book back in the safe. That was when everything in Grant’s life changed.

John Crozier had been having pains for a few days in his chest and tingling in his arm, he attributed it to the cancer. He was not overweight and heart attacks were had by fat people, certainly not him. Apparently, his arteries did not agree and too many days of head cheese with pork hocks and pigs’ knuckles complemented with a generous amount of bread with butter and jam blocked 95% of the arteries pumping blood through his heart. As he bent down, he suffered a massive heart attack and died instantly. The prostate cancer that he was recently diagnosed with was cheated it’s due.

Grant didn’t move, he was too shocked but once realization of what just happened set in, he picked up the phone to call for an ambulance and the police. He stopped when he was assaulted by the sour smell of shit that had begun to pervade the room. He remembered hearing that people who died shit their pants, as their sphincter muscles relaxed. He distastefully went around and felt for a pulse and found none and as he began stepping back, he noticed that the safe wasn’t closed completely. He hesitated and looked around, he knew the old fart lived alone, he was too miserable to have a wife and as he so often told Grant he had no relatives. Grant thought, maybe just maybe there might be some cash in the safe, after all, for all the abuse he had taken from the old guy, he deserved something. As he searched the safe, he found an envelope with one thousand dollars in it. He was ecstatic and as he stuffed it in his pocket, he noticed a small package with printing that indicated personal and confidential, as an afterthought, he picked it up and stuffed it in his suit pocket. With his hands trembling and his heart rate quickening, every fiber in his body told him to leave immediately. He started to sweat profusely. He left as quickly as possible, not looking back as he closed the front door. He checked the street, saw no one, other than two children skipping in a driveway, got in his car and slowly drove off. He smiled as he thought of the thousand dollars and how it would kick start the turnaround of his wretched life. The envelope rested on the seat.

Holy shit, holy shit thought Grant, can this possibly be happening?!  He went to a donut shop at Billings Bridge Plaza, bought a couple of chocolate donuts and a cup of coffee and sat at the back away from anyone else. With trembling hands, he opened the envelope. He found a key and after some thought Grant believed it was a key to a safety deposit box. His mind was racing, was it possible that this old jerk had more money, and could it be tucked away in a bank? He had the thousand dollars and that was great, it certainly would help but what if there was more?  The possibilities were staggering! But how could he get inside the box, he had the key of course but most banks would have a security system to verify who you were before you got near the box. He sighed, maybe his good fortune was limited to the thousand dollars. As he sat and considered the problem, he had a nagging feeling that there was something there, something that he was missing. He bolted upright, the monthly check that paid the old farts premium was from the same Trust Company that he dealt with, and a plan was slowly starting to emerge as he smiled again. The general manager’s assistant was someone he knew very well, in fact intimately. Sharon Connelly was not what you would consider a looker but over the years Grant flirted with her, always keeping in mind that she was a possible prospect for insurance. It developed into a sexual relationship consisting of on and off again sex. Sharon saw it as a prelude to marriage, Grant saw it as one too many drinks that evolved into intimacy. She worshipped him even with all his apparent faults and he was tired of her, thinking of moving his account out of the branch elsewhere and ending the sporadic dalliances. But like most things that Grant did that required a responsible action, he procrastinated. Maybe the relationship would pay off, he had the key, and he knew, just knew, that he could convince her with some plausible made-up story that would allow him access to the safety deposit box. He also knew that he had to act quickly, after all the old man was dead and he would be discovered eventually, although he had never seen or heard the old bastard talk of friends and God only knows he repeatedly told Grant that he had no one. The plan was set, he would go to the Trust Company at the Westgate Mall first thing tomorrow morning soon as they opened. He set out for Pete’s Tavern on Somerset Street where he would celebrate his newfound fortune and maybe, just maybe pay his tab that was in arrears. He made another stop along the way.

That same evening Jamie Daniels was tired. He had just finished a very long day, cumulating into a successful life insurance sale with his new recruit, Robby McNamara. Robby had arranged the meeting with his brother. His brother was part of the project 100 that had to be completed by every new recruit, it was essential that they had prospects to sell once they started and the project 100 was their bible. Of course, the first fifteen or so would be relatives or close friends then a variety of acquaintances just to complete the book, people who were barely known or old school chums or friends that hadn’t been seen in a long time, certainly not what would be considered hot prospects or easy sales by association. It was always the way and survival depended on selling past your immediate relatives and close friends. Many didn’t survive and soon left the business. The percentage of those staying was approximately three out of ten and only one of them would be considered successful. Jamie Daniels knew only too well the ratio of success; he had been a sales manager over a year now. Many times, he questioned his decision in going into management. Prior to the decision he was a successful agent working on average thirty hours a week with most sales coming from referrals of existing clients or those he knew in his old district, debit thirty-seven. But at the age of thirty-three he was convinced that management was the way to go, to move up the proverbial latter to a higher more respected position and ultimately more money. How naïve he was when he accepted. He was given the worst staff in the office with three vacant agencies and as he was entering the office on his first Friday of his newfound position, bright eyed and bushy tailed, he met his top agent on the staff Terry Stewart leaving, leaving on a management meeting and reporting day!

Jamie said, Terry, where are you going, we have our district meeting in twenty minutes?

Terry embarrassingly replied, You better check with Joe, he’ll explain everything?

Confused Jamie asked, What, what are you talking about?

As Terry left, Check with Joe, I have to leave.

Jamie entered the office dumbfounded and went directly to the General Managers office, not bothering to knock. I just saw Terry leave and he said I should talk to you, what’s going on?

Joe Switzer sat in his chair and replied, I tried to keep him but, the Department of Insurance just replied, and we had to let him go, he has lost his license. I should have told you before, but I felt it was confidential and I had really thought he would only get a short suspension. Unfortunately not. He was caught shop lifting a camera in a store on Sparks Street, police came, and he was charged. I went to bat for him since he is the third highest producer in the office but no dice. I’m sorry but we will have to continue. Of course, it will be harder for you, but I will support you in any way possible. Your income is guaranteed for two years so any loss of production will not hurt you directly, but you are going to have to recruit more diligently now.

The following weeks after Terry’s departure Jamie couldn’t find many of the clients, they didn’t live at the addresses provided and those he found were in no position to pay the premium that had been attributed to them, they were vastly oversold. Lapses came in steadily and the book was imploding, it was disastrous. This great opportunity was a nightmare. He had quickly gone from working thirty hours a week to seventy, including weekends for what, a few dollars more and the promise of upward mobility? His wife wanted him to quit, he saw his three children rarely and if he wasn’t picking up premium on the two vacant books, he was going on nightly sales calls with existing inept agents. The only agent that worked to some degree on his own was Grant, he at least agreed to pick up the other two books if only to provide additional beer money, but it was a help. Grant would also sell, although not as frequently as he had in the past.

Jamie was tired, it was nine p.m. and he wanted to go home. He congratulated Robby on his first sale and told him to come into the office at nine tomorrow. Jamie was going to introduce Robby to his allotted debit, where they would collect premium and prospect for additional sales. He drove home, tomorrow would be another day.

Grant slept in, he was hung over and his body was racked with pain, rolling over in bed to get up was in itself a hard-won victory. He overstayed at Pete’s and left when they were closing the doors. He remembered buying drinks and paying his tab. He found his wallet on the floor and realized he spent two hundred dollars at Pete’s in addition to paying off his tab, so much for saving the thousand for emergencies, he now had a grand total of two hundred and twelve dollars left.  He had purchased a diamond engagement ring paying three hundred before going to Pete’s tavern, it was part of his strategy in accessing the old farts safety deposit box. He gingerly walked to the bathroom, turned on the shower, he needed revitalization and hot water to massage him back to some semblance of mobility. He put on his best suit and tie after he had shaved, splattered cologne and smelling good he drove to the Trust Company. He knew he needed all his selling skills and charm to get into that safety deposit box. That is, if it was actually there.

...

Sharon Connelly in 1987 would be considered a spinster, at least in her own mind, and she was desperate to get married and start a family. She knew Grant was not the best candidate but right now he was the only candidate and besides she still remembered him when he started in the life insurance industry twelve years ago. He was handsome then, self- assured, a charmer and unfortunately married. Although the years had not been kind to him, he was good to Sharon and he would occasionally mention about getting married, although she had to admit vaguely and usually as a prelude to sex. She wasn’t stupid but she was also lonely, and she had fun when he was around. She brightened up when she saw him enter the branch. He had the most amazing smile and he winked at her as he approached.

Sharon, I missed you. Do you think we could meet privately for a few minutes; I need a tiny favor?

Reluctantly she responded immediately, Grant, I don’t have any money to lend you, if that’s what you are asking and besides you haven’t paid me back the hundred dollars that you borrowed last month.

He came close and whispered in her ear. He knew all the other clerks were watching and they didn’t like him and were extremely protective of Sharon,

Grant smiled, Sweetheart that is one of the reasons I came in. First to return the funds that you were so kind to lend me and second to ask you to help one of my elderly clients who has been ill and can’t come into the bank.

She gazed around the office to ensure no one was watching them, she was a very private person. As she scanned the room, people started to quickly move on with their own duties.

Okay, let’s go into Mr. Grabowski’s office, he won’t be in for at least another half hour."

As they walked quickly to the office, Grant smiled and winked at a pretty intern, she looked away disgusted.... he quietly chuckled.

In an exasperating tone Sharon confronted him, So Grant, what’s this about?

Grant smiled, Well first things first, he took out six crisp twenty-dollar bills and while he handed them to her, he said. Six twenties, five I owe you and one for interest."

She was surprised but pleased and although she tried to resist the additional twenty, he insisted and she put them into her jacket pocket and waited.

Innocently Grant replied, Well the other reason is one of my clients Mr. Crozier, John Crozier had a fall yesterday and can’t come in to access his safety deposit box, he has a business associate coming in from Vancouver this afternoon and he had put important papers in his deposit box, and he needs them to resolve a transaction that is extremely important to both of them. He gave me the key and asked if I would pick up the envelope.

Rolling her eyes Sharon responded, Unless you have a signed statement from him that is notarized, you know very well I can’t let you have access to someone’s safety deposit box.

Contritely he replied, I know, I know, and I told him that, but this transaction is extremely important, it directs funds for his disabled daughter who is in a nursing home in British Columbia and if it isn’t received today, they will have to have her removed! He is a kind soul, who procrastinated too long in taking care of this issue, something to do with his ex-wife trying to get his money.

Staring at him Sharon asked, Why did he leave it so long and why is this in his safety deposit box anyways?

Expecting her suspicion Grant said, He had the paper completed by his lawyer and didn’t want to enact it if there was a chance that his ex-wife would pay the bill. He is European and like many he is, shall I say, frugal. He is bedridden, no relatives and he was pleading, actually crying Sharon, come on just let me get the envelope and take it to him. No one would know that I got it, you won’t get into trouble, honest.

Sighing Sharon replied, Jesus, Grant you are apt to drive me crazy, you aren’t the most reliable person in the world you know?

Grant knew what she was implying, marriage and he was prepared. He was always prepared for objections; it was what made an insurance agent successful when closing a sale. By God, he was going to close this one! He looked hurt and contrite as he replied, Look I love you and I know that I have, shall we say, been stalling on the marriage question but, well I was going to do this over dinner Friday night, but will you marry me?

He took out the engagement ring that he purchased the other day. He figured that it was a sound investment, as he thought about the safety deposit box, he was absolutely convinced there was money there, much more than the thousand dollars that he picked up and if a three-hundred-dollar ring would allow him access then so be it. He knew that Sharon, who was honest as the day was long, would be extremely difficult to convince but she prayed for this, she lived for this, it would certainly tip the scale and negate her better judgement and he was right.

In an excited tone she said, Oh my God, are you sure, you’re not just saying this to access your client’s security box, are you?

Grabbing his chest and indicating a mock heart attack, That hurts, that really hurts Sharon, I can’t believe you said that! If it will make you feel better, forget about my request, it isn’t my problem anyways even though the old guy’s daughter will be put out onto the street.

He crossed his fingers and prayed, believing that he could orchestrate her into doing anything he wanted.

After a short pause and following her admiration of the ring and what it meant, she said, Oh Grant, I didn’t mean I don’t trust you, I do. If it’s important and helps out your client then I guess it would be alright, what’s his name?

John Crozier.

As Sharon left the room, Grant waited impatiently, he didn’t know if the safety deposit box was even there. He assumed it was but wasn’t positive. He also needed to access it alone to take whatever valuables were in the box without Sharon being there, the envelope was just fiction to get him access. 

Sharon came back smiling with an elongated box and placed it on the table, she waited as she gestured for Grant to open it. He looked questioningly at her and then realized that she wanted him to use the key to open the box. He had looked at the container and felt uneasy. It was shallow and not that large, certainly unable to hold a vast sum of money.

Oh yea, right. Aren’t you supposed to leave the room and provide privacy when a safety deposit box is opened?

Yup, if the box belonged to you but it doesn’t, and I am not letting it out of my sight. As it is, I am putting myself at risk now. I will not record this happening, but I am not leaving.

Oh, come on Sharon, don’t you trust me!?

It’s not that but either I stay here, or I put it back, take it or leave it.

Grant thought, this wasn’t how he envisioned it happening, but he knew Sharon was a stickler for protocol and in a deflated manner he accepted her terms. He knew he wasn’t going to get anything out of this, she was watching too closely so he reluctantly opened the safety deposit box. As he was opening the box, he reflected on the three hundred dollars that he wasted on the ring. Maybe he could convince her that the ring didn’t fit properly, and he would take it back to the jeweler for proper sizing and get his money back. Inside was an envelope marked confidential and addressed to a Mr. Fredrick Bremer, and a number of bond certificates, he eyed the certificates enviously and proceeded to pick them up. Before he could look at their value, Sharon grabbed them from him and replaced them with the envelope. As he glanced at the envelope, she noticed the name was different from the owner of the safety deposit box. She carefully looked at it and immediately had reservations in giving it to Grant. 

Sharon admonished him, The name on the envelope says confidential and is addressed to a Fredrick Bremer, what gives Graham?

Grant could care less about the envelope as he eyed the bonds, but he had to keep the charade up and quash Sharon’s suspicion.

Of course, it is, Fredrick Bremer is Mr. Crozier’s lawyer and the papers inside will provide the direction of funds necessary to care for his disabled daughter.

Sharon paused for a minute and decided to trust Grant, after all shouldn’t she trust the man she was going to marry, and he was doing a good deed? She gave him the envelope. 

Grant was surprised and disappointed as he stood there holding the envelope.  He tried to convince her that the old guy would be happy to have the bonds also, but she was adamant. In no uncertain terms she stated that the bonds stayed.

"I guess I better get going and give it to him. He tried not to look dejected,

and he smiled as he thanked her. He also longingly eyed the ring on her finger. What a waste of three hundred bucks!"

As he got into the car, he threw the stupid envelope on the seat and drove away.

...

The next morning Jamie entered the kitchen and proceeded in getting a cup of coffee off the stove. The coffee more often than not was necessary to start the day, in fact his consumption of coffee became too frequent as the day wore on. His wife would often point out this fact to him, she attributed his short temper, especially with their three children to the abundance of caffeine in his system.  He knew better, it was the job, it wasn’t fun anymore and the pressure to produce kept increasing.  As he sat quietly at the kitchen table, his wife Janice came in smiling and pecked him on the cheek. She was always cheerful and happy, a great mother and a loving and caring wife, she was his only salvation lately, her and his three kids, Rebecca, Michael and Sean. Michael was fourteen years old, totally involved in sports, conscious of his appearance and very aware of the attraction of the opposite sex, Sean was twelve and completely idolized his brother who would ignore him continuously. Becky was so different, studious and mature beyond her years, a verging vegetarian who believed in proper nutrition and had a keen sense of values that were rock solid on woman’s rights. She was ten years old and was embarrassed easily, which Michael used to his benefit and pleasure. As Becky ate her cereal interspersed with an assortment of fruit and Michael wolfed down his plain bagel, toasted and smothered with peanut butter Jamie said. I won’t be home for dinner tonight, I have a sales appointment with Danny, and I have to pick up premium on my two empty agencies.

His wife hid her disappointment as she smiled, Alright but would you like me to make enough and leave a plate for you to warm up when you get home?

Jamie replied, Nah, I’ll eat a sandwich at the office before I go on calls.

Grant woke up in a foul mood, he drank too much last night. He liked to drink when he felt sorry for himself and yesterday was a banner day. He wasted three hundred bucks on a ring, gave Sharon back her $100 plus $20 interest and spent most of the found money from the safe on liquor and was no further ahead in getting his life straightened out. He sat on the edge of the bed, belched and farted. He got up, scratched his ass and headed for the shower. A half hour later he was dressed and headed out the door, he had a lot of collections to do, the end of the month was only twelve days away and he had to accelerate his collections of premiums on his and the two others books that Jamie asked him to pick up so that they balanced by the end of the month. As he fell in the driver’s seat, he saw the envelope. He frowned and shook his head over the lack of luck he had in the last few years. His wife leaving him and taking away his daughter’s, the loss of the affluent district that he had been servicing for the last ten years as his debit and the district manager who was always on his back. Even his manager and friend Jamie was after him to do better.  He reached over and tore into the envelope.

...

Jamie parked at the back of the office and entered the building. He went into the door that was called the bullpen.  It was called a bullpen because it was an open area where the four staffs resided. Each staff area was an elongated island of eight desks pushed together. Each desk had a chair and drawers with one telephone with a very long cord that allowed the phone to be shared by any agent at their desk. The bull pen housed twenty-eight agents and four managers, it was a noisy location and the sharing of the phone created fights which broke out occasionally. The only saving grace was that the staffs were never full, at any given time the number of agents had not exceeded twenty-four. Recruiting new agents was a priority for all the sales managers. Their income was centered on recruitment through bonus paid on each recruit and a higher override of commission for the sales manager in the recruits first two years.

Jamie went into the kitchen and got a coffee then proceeded to the open counter on the wall which accessed the administrative office. He spoke to the senior administrative clerk.

Hey Kathy, how are you doing? Jamie smiled.

Kathy answered as she retrieved James’s mail. I’m doing Jamie, I’m doing.

Kathy handed Jamie a series of computerized cards and overdue notices that belonged to the four open debits that he had yet to be filled. The CAD’s, computerized anniversary data cards were valuable to an agent who utilized them properly and, in some cases, improperly. The information consisted of an individual’s policy information on the anniversary date of the policy. Cash value and dividends attributed to the policy for the previous year, amount of insurance and type of plan whether whole life or term insurance and also any loan attributed to the plan. It was a reason for review and to meet the client at their home, objective of course was to sell them more insurance and if this couldn’t be done then getting referrals of their family members to be contacted. If utilized correctly, it proved a valuable source for connecting with clients and establishing a relationship of trust and to determine if the current coverage was sufficient. Updating family information was also critical. The information of another child in the family would be valuable information that would reinforce the need for additional coverage. A life insurance policy on the child would also be introduced for educational purposes. An agent depended on the sale of life insurance and any sales completed were paid a commission to the agent. In 1989 whole life policies were influenced by the commission paid. A whole life policy would pay 90% of the first year annualized premium while a term policy would receive 50%. It was easy to do the math and recommend whole life as the only solution.  

As Jamie sat at his desk, he scanned the notification of returned cheques, all indicating insufficient funds. There were five, four from the open debit that Terry Stewart vacated. He would have to visit each home to see if he could pick up a replacement cheque, but he knew it was probably a fruitless endeavor. All of them had been oversold and couldn’t afford the premium. He was starting to get a headache and it was only nine o’clock. There were only eleven more days until months end when each debit book needed to be balanced, a procedure which documented the premium received in the current month to the policies registered on the debit. This took into account any money received from the policy holders including loan payments made. More importantly it culled the book of policies that should be lapsed due to non- payment. If a policy was over thirty days