It was hard not to hear Ted's conversations because we were stuffed into a tiny workspace, and quite frankly, motor vehicle registration was about as absorbing as the Ice Capades. Anytime someone brought up a topic, I was certain that my colleague over the partition would offer the most right-wing perspective.
If someone's stapler broke in the office, Ted would say that it was probably fabricated in China and wouldn't have broken if made in the USA. If it snowed a lot outside, Ted would quip that the unionized state workers plowing the streets were probably going to bilk the state for excessive overtime. If the internet went down in the office, Ted would suggest that it had something to do with bandwidth being consumed by the liberal media. I learned a lot sitting next to Ted.
Evidently, Ted and his wife packed the shelves before assessing the sturdiness of the cabinet. It was a bit ironic that a QA guy would overlook something like that. Apparently the shelving let go sometime in the middle of the night, crashing one on top of the other until all that was left was a sad pile of Humbits at the bottom of the cabinet. The next morning at work Ted was on the phone with his insurance company trying to get them to pay for the damages. The volume of his contribution to the conversation was slowly rising as he was discovering that his policy did not cover cheap furniture that he purchased to house his wife's collectibles.
"What do you mean I needed a rider?" Ted blurted.
He was going to learn the hard way that if you have something special like an expensive, rare lot of figurines, you need to declare this to your insurance company and likely purchase a special provision, called a "rider.”
"I don't get it. I have a homeowner's policy. Don't I?" Ted reasoned.
You do, but it doesn't cover defective or improperly assembled furniture that should only be used in a college dormitory.
"You cover my other stuff if in a fire or a flood so why not my wife's Hummels?" Ted angrily asked.
Well, not flood. You need a special policy, called "flood insurance." Even so your curio cabinet collapsing is not the same thing as an electrical fire or a tornado. Insurance is very complicated.
"I don't get it. I have a homeowner's policy. Don't I?" Ted reasoned.
You do, but it doesn't cover defective or improperly assembled furniture that should only be used in a college dormitory.
"You cover my other stuff if in a fire or a flood so why not my wife's Hummels?" Ted angrily asked.
Well, not flood. You need a special policy, called "flood insurance." Even so your curio cabinet collapsing is not the same thing as an electrical fire or a tornado. Insurance is very complicated.
"You mean to tell me that my homeowner's policy doesn't cover the things that are actually in my house?" Ted exclaimed in exasperation.
No, you're covered for loss up to a certain dollar figure for damage caused by unforeseen events, natural disasters or "Acts of God." You are not covered for "Acts of Ted."
"So if someone drove a tractor trailer through my house and ran over my wive's Hummels, you wouldn't cover them?" Ted inquired.
No, they're covered for that. If your wive's Hummel were hit by lighting or a hurricane, your homeowner policy would kick in and reimburse you. Additionally, significant liability is shared by the truck driver and his employer. However, your homeowner's policy does not cover bonehead moves by the insured.
"So I guess I'm just out $2000 worth of Hummels!" Ted exclaimed as he slammed the phone down.
Rest assured that insurance companies won't cover you in case of loss if there is any way for them to wiggle out of it. The former mayor of Philadelphia, Frank Rizzo, once said,
"A conservative is a liberal who got mugged the night before."
Rizzo implied that robbing a liberal will change their views. I often wondered what would it take to change the views of a conservative. Now I know.
About $2000 worth of Hummels.
Editor's Note: Originally posted on March 14, 2017.
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