Typical Day
It's 9:00AM on a Saturday morning, but weekends have no meaning for Evo Luate—as a claims adjuster, he meets with claimants when they're available, and not when it's convenient for him. As of today, he hasn't had an appointment-free weekend in seven months—a new record at Dewey, Cheatem & Howe, the insurance company he works for.
Evo is a total loss claims adjuster, specializing in vehicles. In insurance, a total loss means that the cost of returning damaged property to its pre-loss condition is greater than the property's value, and the car Evo is examining on this fine January morning is a surefire candidate for the total loss title.
The vehicle is a sardine can-sized 2005 Chevy Cavalier, and the trunk has been so badly crushed from behind that it's pretty much non-existent. Evo's been a car fanatic since he was a kid; he grew up working on vehicles with his dad, a mechanic, and he's been assessing vehicle damage for the insurance industry for nearly a decade. A single practiced glance tells Evo that the car's frame has been damaged beyond repair. He's surprised the owner, Mr. Dickie Dauntless, was able to even get the car home.
"I hope you weren't injured in the accident," Evo says to Mr. Dauntless as the two men stand in the driveway beside the car.
"Oh, no," Mr. Dauntless says. "I was sore after the crash, but that was it."
"I'm glad to hear it," Evo replies. "Now, I have the initial statement you gave me over the phone, but why don't we go over what happened one more time?"
The story, according to Mr. Dauntless, is this: One week earlier, on New Year's Eve, he was driving home from a day at the beach. He came to a yield sign at the end of an on-ramp on to a state highway, where he paused because there was oncoming traffic. A truck behind Mr. Dauntless took the on-ramp at full speed; the driver was watching the highway and not the on-ramp in front of him, which is why he slammed into the back of Mr. Dauntless' car.
Both vehicles pulled off the on-ramp, and the drivers exchanged information. However, the truck's driver then leapt back into his vehicle, said he was late for work, and drove away.
"Did you call the police?" Evo asks.
Mr. Dauntless nods sheepishly. "But only after the other driver was gone. I was pretty shaken up, and I'm afraid I wasn't thinking straight. This was the first wreck I've ever been in."
Evo gives Mr. Dauntless a sympathetic pat on the back. The claimant's story matches the statement he gave over the phone. Moreover, even though Mr. Dauntless has been a DC&H customer for eighteen years, he's never made a claim on his insurance before.
"I have the copy of the police report you faxed to me, as well as the other driver's information. I'm going to inspect your car now and take some photos."
Evo gets to work. Twenty minutes later, he has all the documentation he needs, and his suspicions have been confirmed: The car is a total loss. The leadership at DC&H hates these occasions when a vehicle is totaled; it could mean a big payment is due to the claimant. However, given the age and make of the car, Evo doubts the check will be for more than a few thousand dollars.
"I'm going to need to get some financial information from you about the car now, Mr. Dauntless." Evo proceeds to ask a series of questions: When did Mr. Dauntless buy the car, and for how much? Does Mr. Dauntless own the car outright, or is he still making payments on the vehicle? Evo will have to take all of this information into account as he tries to determine the payout for the claim.
"I've got all that paperwork inside," Mr. Dauntless says. "Let me get it for you."
Mr. Dauntless is back in a few minutes with the documents, and Evo photographs everything for his records.
"Here's what happens next," Evo tells the claimant. "I'm going to look over all the information you've given me and do some research of my own. I should know about your claim by next Monday at the latest."
Evo hands Mr. Dauntless one of his business cards. "If you have any questions or concerns in the meantime, please give me a call."
Mr. Dauntless nods. Evo gathers up his laptop, file folders, and digital camera, waves goodbye, and heads back to his car. His next appointment is fifty miles away and out in the middle of nowhere. He programs the address into his GPS and begins his drive.
Evo didn't graduate from college with dreams of being a claims adjuster. In fact, he'd hoped to take his business degree and become an entrepreneur who remodeled and resold valuable old vehicles.
But then the recession hit and Evo's mom lost her job. He decided to defer his dream for a little while and find work with a steady paycheck and benefits. With his education and background in repairing vehicles, he was hired by DC&H as a low-level claims adjuster. Over the last ten years, he's worked his way up the ladder, so that he's now one of the more senior adjusters in the company.
Evo pulls up in front of a pleasant house situated on a couple of acres at 11:00AM. The claimant, a Mr. Lovell Hogg, escorts Evo into the garage, where Evo finds a slightly beat-up Harley-Davidson motorcycle.
"Tell me what happened, Mr. Hogg," Evo says, walking around the motorcycle. He's fairly certain all of the damage to the vehicle is superficial.
"Well," Mr. Hogg begins, "I was out riding on Wednesday afternoon, about five miles from here. I turned right on County Road 13, and I hadn't gone fifty feet when I was run into a ditch by a herd of guinea pigs."
Evo looks at Mr. Hogg in disbelief. "You were run off the road…by guinea pigs."
"Yep," Mr. Hogg confirms. "About 200 of 'em."
And I thought I'd heard everything, Evo thinks.
"I walked a half-mile down the road to the closest house so I could call my wife. Turns out, the guinea pig herd belongs to the folks living in that house—kind of. Their kid's pet guinea pigs got out last year and have been breeding like crazy. They've been trying to track 'em all down, but I guess they're having a hard time."
Mr. Hogg pulls out a piece of paper with the name and contact information of the accidental guinea pig breeder and hands it to Evo.
"I'll verify your story with Mr. Fertile," Evo says. "Did you actually hit any of the guinea pigs?"
"Oh, no," Mr. Hogg replies. "I was more startled than anything. The herd came out of nowhere, and I just swerved right off the road to get out of the way and banged up my bike."
While Mr. Hogg has full coverage on his motorcycle, the deductible on the policy is set at $5,000. Evo spends a few minutes inspecting the motorcycle; he turns it on, and drives it a few miles up the road and back. He concludes that all of the damage to the bike is superficial and will cost at most $1500 to repair. DC&H won't be making a payout on this claim.
When Evo returns to the garage, he explains his decision to Mr. Hogg. The claimant looks pretty put-out that he'll have to pay to fix the dings and scratches on his bike, but Evo recommends several paint and body shops in the area that do good work and will give Mr. Hogg a fair price.
"I knew I should've gone for the lower deductible," Mr. Hogg growls, but he shakes Evo's hand all the same and thanks him for his time.
Evo gives a sigh of relief when he gets back to his car. He's glad he avoided a blowup with Mr. Hogg—dealing with enraged claimants is the least favorite part of his job. It's not that he doesn't sympathize with DC&H's customers; he does. It's just that people often believe their insurance policies should cover everything, even when that isn't what they've paid for.
It's now 12:00PM. Evo's hungry, so he tracks down a restaurant about twenty minutes away and goes to lunch. He's done with appointments for today, but he has two more tomorrow, and then he'll be in the office on Monday, pulling reports together, making appointments, and calling people with decisions about their claims. Evo doesn't get a lot of free time, but he's good at his job, and he makes $75,000 a year, plus benefits. As he bites into a hamburger, Evo decides that security is a beautiful thing.