How Did I End Up Here?

Age 7:   I wanted to be the first female horse jockey (this was spurred on by the film “Black Stallion”)

Age 12: I wanted to be the first female astronaut (then I realized how much math they had to know and pretty much said “forget that!”)

Age 15: I wanted to be a singer (the next Debbie Gibson – not Tiffany, because she was too trashy.)

Age 18: My first year of college and I had no clue what I wanted to be, just that I was supposed to be in college.  Initially I wanted to be in fashion merchandising.  I figured since I liked to shop that I would love to be a buyer.  That idea did not go far at all, once I worked the Christmas season in a retail store.  Contrary to my original belief, Christmas shoppers are not happy people.

Age 22: I finally decided to get an English degree.  Why?  Because I live to read and I love to write.  By the time I finish college I’m so sick of literature that I don’t even want to pick up a classic book for years.  Funny how that works.  However, by this age I had already been a secretary for five years and figured, hey – I’d use my degree every day since I’m always handling correspondence and speaking with people! Silly twenty-year old.

Ten years later and somehow or another I end up in insurance.  How did this happen?  I don’t ever recall being young and thinking, “Wow.  Insurance looks really cool.  I have GOT to do that when I grow up.”  The longer I have been in this business, the more I’ve come to realize that most people seem to just fall into insurance.  They didn’t plan to be there.  Sometimes they’re still in shock that they are there! 

I think, though, that if you give it a chance, the business of insurance seems to get its hooks into you.  Maybe it’s after your first piece of new business, and you realize that you just made someone’s life a little easier.  They know that their business is covered in case something bad happens.  Or, perhaps, it’s that first claim you read over and realize you’re making the world a better place because we just need insurance.  I mean, who knew that a drunk who passed out while urinating off a balcony – and fell over said balcony – could sue the building owner for negligence?    Either way, something happens that grabs you and holds on, so that you continue wanting to write insurance.  It’s a far cry from horse jockey or singer, but I’m still happy with my choice, even if I had to trip over myself to get here. 

How about you?

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