When I say “working in insurance,” what is the first image that pops into your mind? Let’s be honest: For most people, those words usually bring up images of an adult, with a hat, a briefcase, an impeccable suit, knocking on a suburban house door, selling insurance. At least, that’s the image I saw, until I was 24.
See, my father had always had his own life and disability insurance policies that were complementary to the ones offered by the companies he used to work for. When I was about 8 years old, I remember a gentleman dressed up in business attire sitting at our dining room table taking my dad’s vitals and asking about his health. This struck me as odd and I remember asking my mom who was that man. “He’s your dad’s insurance agent,” she said, and didn’t explain why there was a sphygmomanometer on the table or anything else for that matter.