If I can’t fly a jet, maybe I can sell insurance                                                                                                                     By Dave Hamby

              This past summer, at 48 years of age, I had to decide what I wanted to do for a living when I grew up.  

             For the benefit of those of you who don’t know me, I repaired wrecked cars for almost thirty years till I sold my interest in Premier Autobody in May of 1999.  

             Since then   I’ve been a consultant for an insurance company in a law suit, a contractor with only one customer, and an aspiring writer.  

             The consultant job had great pay and was really interesting, but once the suit was over I wasn’t needed anymore and I haven’t found anyone else who needs a consultant.  

             My contracting career consisted of me hiring myself to build a big garage in front of our house and do a whole bunch of fixing up around the place.   I have to admit that my wife is a great sport, considering that now when you look out the front windows of our house, instead of looking over a peaceful meadow, you get a great view of my 1 ½ story garage.   Now it’s finished and there’s not much fixing up that needs doing anymore.  

             Last spring when my wife saw me wandering around our six acres trying to figure out where I was going to build my next project, she started chunking rocks at me.   I deducted from her reaction that my days as working as my own contractor were over.   

             As a writer I’ve written magazine articles, features, and these two regular columns in the Leader.   I’ve had a lot of success in getting published, just not much luck in earning anything that resembled a living.

            So early this past summer, after some tender inspiration from my wife, I decided it was time for me to go back to work.   That inspiration came in the form of her repeatedly asking me to “Get A Job!!!”

              I called on an old buddy of mine and asked him if I could become an agent for this big insurance company he works for.   Talk about great timing.   He got me an appointment as an agent, helped me with the classes I needed and the tests I had to take to get licensed, and on September 1st I began working full time as a Reserve Agent.

             Reserve Agent is insurance speak for “dumb bunny rookie.”

             When I started working I got my own desk in an office with three other reserve agents and two interns.  

              There are three other Daves in the office, so when the phone rings and the nice lady at the front desk says over the intercom, “Dave, line one,” everyone scrambles for the phone.  

             Now I’ve never worked in a large office before and to be honest, I really didn’t know what to expect or how to act.

             On my first day at the office I set up my desk with all of my office supplies, my calculator, my hole punch, and all the other stuff I thought I’d need to be able to sell insurance.   I was almost done when one of the senior agents called me into his office to show me how to fill out a certain form.  

              When I returned to my nook I discovered my coat lying on top of my desk and my chair missing.   Someone had the balls to steal my chair, actually the region’s chair that I had at my desk, which isn’t really my desk, it’s the regions desk that I get to use.

               Not knowing what else to do, I checked out and went to the local Super Store to buy me a nice chair.   I taped masking tape on it on which I wrote, “Hamby’s property, do not remove!”      

             Imagine my surprise the next day when I showed up at work to find masking tape all over my desk.   On my manuals was written, “Hamby’s guide, do not remove,” and on the desk was written, “Hamby’s desk, do not use.”   Someone had spent a great deal of effort because on each of my pens was a “Hamby’s pen,” and each form had a “Hamby’s form” on it.   Even the paper clips had tape attached with really small script that read “Hamby’s paper clip.”  

              Evidently in a large office stealing one’s chair was a way of making them feel welcome and someone had been affronted by my buying my own   chair and labeling it.

             It came as no surprise to me to discover the culprit was a good friend of mine who worked there, the guy that actually suggested to me that I would make a good agent.  

            I didn’t get mad, but the German in me required that I get even.

             I accomplished this by giving him tickets to the Minor League Championship Series at our local ballpark.   The catch was, our team had already been eliminated.

             He figured out what revenge was when he pulled up that night to a dark stadium and an empty parking lot.  

             I’m told his date lashed out at him with something like, “I had to tell everyone at my office I was going to this game with you.   One of the guys told me our team was eliminated, but no, my genius date tells me that if there’s no game, there wouldn’t be any tickets.”  

             His chance at a payback came a couple of weeks later.   He was passing by my office when I hollered at him, “Hey Dave, would you do me a favor and hold this phone for me. I’ve been on hold for twenty minutes and I really need to use the bathroom.   If I hang up now I’ll just have to start over again.”  

            “Sure,” he replied.  

             He took the phone and as soon as I got into the bathroom I heard him say real loud.   “Hi, can you hold for a second? No? Can I get you to call back?   Wait!   He’s been on hold for twenty minutes waiting for you.   Wait!   Wait!”  

             I came running into his office trying to zip my pants.   He shrugged and handed the receiver back.   I started to hang up and then at the last second listened into the earpiece.   When I heard the hold music I knew he’d gotten me.

             The war goes on.

              Actually he had the last laugh on me.   The insurance company we worked for got into a contest of wills with our state regulating agency and cut back severely on the product they offered.   My career in insurance lasted only a half year.   Presently I’m still an aspiring writer and am trying to figure out what I want to do when I grow up.

This article originally appeared in the Round Rock Leader.   It has since been modified and is available for your publication.