State Farm Did The Right Thing; At Last


So. I did all of that bitching about my insurance company in the aftermath of my car wreck. My level of dissatisfaction and frustration were well chronicled on these pages.

My claim on the auto insurance coverage purchased by me from State Farm Insurance began as a stereotypical story of a longterm customer, with no prior claims in thirty years history. Since the accident happened on a Sunday, I was unable to get any real information from the 1-800 operator who answered my initial call to report the wreck.

“I can only take the information from you and set-up the claim file in the computer, sir, and your claims adjuster will be available Monday morning,” the youngish-sounding man told me.

“OK, but I have rental car insurance and my car was towed to the wrecking yard. How do I go about obtaining a rental car?” I thought this was a reasonable question.

“You’ll need to speak with your claims adjuster, sir.”

“OK, young man, but you just said the adjuster isn’t available until Monday morning. It is now Sunday fucking morning and I need a rental car, and…”

“Sir,” again with the Sir shit, “I have not cursed at you and I would appreciate you not cursing at me, thank you.”

OK, this was going well. “Well, Mr. Sensitive, I would appreciate it if you would drop your snotty-nosed attitude and tell me how to obtain a rental car under the insurance policy I have paid for for more than thirty years without a single claim.” I can be reasonable in the face of reason.

“Sir, I thought we just went over that. Call … your … adjuster … Monday … morning.”

Oh, this was going VERY well. “Well I, you little shitwad, thought that I had explained to you that I … need …. a … fucking … rental … car TODAY!”

Anyway, my experience went downhill from there and I managed to chew ass on at least a daily basis for the almost two weeks since the accident. Then yesterday afternoon I got a call from a guy at State Farm. I got mad as soon as he said the words “State Farm” so I missed the next dozen words he spoke to me. My brain latched back on the conversation as the man was saying, “… and the body shop placed your car on jacks because they couldn’t get it on a lift. That is why our company adjuster missed the rest of the damage– they couldn’t get under the car. Your car is a mess, a real mess. It’s totaled, sir, and I’m sorry to be the one to tell you. I have notes here that you have strong opinions about things and I just want to tell you that it is State Farm’s policy to pay the customer the full retail value of their wrecked vehicle when the damage estimate exceeds that retail value.”

“Well let me tell you something, buster. If you think…”

You know, sometimes I have these slow-motion moments of clarity. Just like the slow-motion experience I had when the air bag exploded in my face during the wreck. I’m all wound up over some injustice, real or perceived, and I’m ready to bite my way through someone’s chest to eat their heart when I think, “Ooopsie.”

I stopped my rant wind-up and instead pitched a softball. “What department did you say you are with, sir?”

The man answered, “State Farm Total Loss Adjusters.” He emphasized “Total Loss” heavily.

Now I have a new set of problems. What car will I buy to replace my beloved 2007 Tahoe? I can’t get another Tahoe because it was a gas guzzler, I can’t get a Prius Because I’m 6’4” and 240 pounds of aging manhood, and what I really want is a new Porsche Panamera. But my work is hard on a car and I’m not messing up a Porsche that way.

I was thinking I’d get a Chevy Traverse and then I realized I can get a Mercedes for the same money. For some reason I don’t mind letting a Mercedes get all banged up at my work but a Porsche or BMW– no way. And I won’t buy Japanese because I promised my father I wouldn’t. Daddy fought the Japanese in the Pacific and he carried a prejudice until his death. Some prejudices are reality based.

I like the Japanese and I think they likely build the best cars dollar-for-dollar. But Daddy’s deathbed wish was a promise from me.


I take back most of what I said about my insurance company. In the end they did right by me. So I guess I’ll drink a toast of icy cold Carta Blanca beer to State Farm Insurance. “Good enough, State Farm. Good enough.”

Manana, y’all.

PS– Fuck Rick Perry

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3 Responses to “State Farm Did The Right Thing; At Last”

  1. SEE?! The hissy-fitting worked!! YAY! (well, I mean, boo, hiss for the fact that you were in an accident to begin with…and had to pitch a hissy fit to get them to see “reality” but you know what I mean, dammit!). I also think you’re taking the whole Japanese car thing a bit too far. My dad served in Vietnam, and I still go to every damned Vietnamese restaurant I can find and throw down like there’s no tomorrow. Besides – you ARE correct, they are some very well built vehicles for the deniro. I used to only have/buy American cars…for like ten years (because I am FROM the State containing the Motor City!!). But now, I am a convert. German cars are great – but they charge you for every single damned “option” whereas the Japanese cars come standard with them. You gets mo fo yo money!

    Oooh, Mooner, you’re 6’4? That’s hawt. Small problem. I am only 5’2. Before the wedding, you’d better figure out a way for someone to follow me around with step-stools for when I need to get in your face. Also, where are you at on # 11?!

  2. Squatlo says:

    Mooner, tell Reck that this one foot two inch difference in vertizontal attitude is damn near perfect for most everything you’ll ever need to do together. Short women rock… I married one, and can speak from experience.

    Glad they totaled out the Tahog, so maybe you’ll be cruising in something a little more Earth Friendly in the near future. I can’t imagine filling one of those big bastards up every other day. Shit, I just put fifty bucks in a six cylinder Firebird… a Tahog would break my pitiful bank in two weeks.

    I”m outta here for the next week or so, but I’ll check in from time to time to see if you and your fiance have set the date yet.

    Later… FRP, indeed. (Y’all still in the middle of that three day prayer meeting he scheduled?)

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