AAA and the Afterlife

I’ve been a loyal customer of AAA since dinosaurs roamed the Earth, or at least since I got my driver’s license, which some days feels like the same thing. Over the years, they’ve pulled me out of more jams than you find in a jar of Smucker’s: flat tires that materialized out of thin air, dead batteries that decided to stage a silent protest, phantom fuel gauges (it said I had 30 miles left…) and the occasional “my car just doesn’t feel like existing today” moments. I lost a fuel pump in the middle of a rescue mission once.

Seriously, the AAA roadside techs are modern-day knights, only instead of armor and horses, they rock steel-toe boots and arrive in trucks with more tools than Batman’s utility belt. I’m always grateful when one shows up, like a beacon of hope, to rescue me from whatever vehicular nonsense I’ve gotten myself into. Seriously, you guys are the best at what you do.

But then there’s the other side of AAA. The side that apparently believes my life is an endless, gaping void of unmet consumer needs, just waiting to be filled by whatever product rolls off their perpetually moving conveyor belt of offers. For all the noble rescuing, AAA also has this slightly clingy ex-girlfriend energy when it comes to selling me things I don’t want.

Out-of-season tires?
No thanks, unless I suddenly decide to rally race in February.

An oil change?
I have a guy for that. He smells like motor grease and coffee, but I trust him with my engine and the secrets I hide in my center console storage compartment.

Artisanal cheeses?
Is my car breaking down a sign that my charcuterie board is lacking? I’m picturing a tow truck pulling up and instead of jumper cables, the guy’s got a wedge of aged gouda. “Here, sir, for your troubles. Pairs wonderfully with a dead battery.” Seriously, will a wedge of brie fix a busted radiator?

Car insurance. Home insurance. Pet psychic recommendations. I mean, at this point I wouldn’t be surprised if AAA offered me a subscription box called “Surprise Junk Trunk” for just $29.95 a month.

But this week… This week was special.  Nothing prepared me for this call. AAA called me, ever so thoughtful, to offer me life insurance.

Cue the ominous music.

Now, I’m not naive. I know life insurance is a real product that real people need. I also do search and rescue, so trust me when I say I’ve seen some weird stuff. Yes, weird, bad, totally-random-stuff happens. I’ve seen it all. If it were fiction, Stephen King would say, “Dial it back a bit.”

But it was the way they pitched it that got me.

The agent hit me with:
“You can try it free for 30 days, and if you like it, we’ll keep you in the program and bill you.”

Seriously? My brain did a full 360-degree spin, then backflipped into a philosophical abyss. I didn’t even need to think. The words just came out without considering the full ramifications of test-driving life insurance. With the most innocent tone I could muster, I asked:
“How would I know I like it? Without actually trying it, I mean?”

A long pause. A pause so long, I could hear the artisanal cheese aging in the background.
“Uh… what?”  I clearly threw him off his script.

Did I really have to explain this? “Like, how do I know I’m satisfied with your product unless I, you know, die and see how it goes?”

Another, even longer, more profound pause. I could hear the hamster wheel spinning in his head, probably squeaking under pressure, chasing that distant wedge of cheese.

“That’s not … how we mean it…” he finally managed, his voice a little strained.

Oh, but sure you do, buddy. If you’re offering me a “try before you buy” on a product whose core utility is only realized post-mortem, then yes, that’s exactly how you mean it. You’re giving me a trial period and the only way to experience the product is to kick the bucket. That doesn’t seem like a great selling point.

“Otherwise,” I continued helpfully, “you’re just offering me a free month on a 30-year commitment that only someone else gets to review. It’s not like Netflix where I can cancel after episode one.”

“So… can I sign you up?” You have to admire the tenacity. Did he just skip to the bottom of his script?

I passed. Respectfully. Some things, you just don’t want to “try out” to see if they’re a good fit.

If AAA wants to give me a free month of emergency pepper jack, I’m all in. I’ll give that a whirl. I’ll road test their cheeses for a month any day. But life insurance? Not something I’m interested in test-driving for obvious reasons.

I love AAA when my engine dies.  I’m less enthused when I have to die to make use of their latest offer.

Let’s stick to jumpstarts and spare tires, guys. And maybe, just maybe, a bonus wedge of cheddar on those more complicated rescues.