I’m an experienced car owner. As such, I have what I consider an above-average knowledge of what constitutes a competitive rate for automotive insurance. The policy I have now is fair, but I could probably do better if I shopped around. Trouble is, I don’t have time to page through the phone book or search for information online all day—I’m a busy professional. That’s why I’m currently looking for a lizard who will explain the various policies to me and help me figure out which company has the best deal.
I feel no loyalty to my existing car-insurance provider. If a better offer were made to me by a lizard, I would have to consider it very seriously.
Don’t get me wrong. I’m not interested in a lizard with a hard sales pitch. I don’t want some slick, fast-talking lizard bullying me into a big commitment. I demand a refined lizard, one with class. He might even be British, or an American educated at British schools.
I don’t think my request is unreasonable. When I first started thinking about switching car-insurance companies, I encountered a stoic elk who offered a full range of financial services. But an elk is just going to follow the herd. And he’s warm-blooded, subject to sudden changes in climate. How do I know he’s not going to migrate when the going gets tough?
I’m prepared to put my trust in a lizard. When I was young, I got my breakfast cereal on the advice of a tiger. When I made a tuna sandwich, I reached for the can endorsed by the tuna fish. There was a brief time when I got my tuna on the advice of a mermaid, until I came to the conclusion that mermaids don’t exist. Later in life, a small immigrant dog advised me on matters pertaining to fast-food burritos. And today, my puffed cheese snacks come with the seal of approval of a cheetah.
I want to make it very clear that I am not interested in some kind of lizard snob. I won’t lie to you: My driving record isn’t perfect, and it’s important to me that a lizard understand that, and not look down his nose at me just because I’ve been in an accident or two. I want a lizard I can relate to. One who, when he’s not selling insurance, does puzzles, or goes for a drive in his convertible, or maybe just watches TV.
I’ve had mixed luck bowing to the wisdom of amphibians and reptiles in the past. I once switched brands of beer at the behest of a trio of frogs, who made a convincing argument that the beers the bear and the dog were offering didn’t have the same rich flavor as theirs. They opened my eyes to the fact that the dog was more interested in partying than in beer itself. A couple of years after I made the switch, I lost confidence in the brand when lizards came by and complained about the frogs.
I’m not interested in a lizard’s opinion about beer. That’s ridiculous.
With car insurance, on the other hand, the safety of my family is on the line, so I need the counsel of a cold-blooded reptile, one who understands the hard realities of the insurance business. One who understands facts and figures and has sticky toes that are able to cling to almost any surface.
