California Health Insurance Quotes and Blog

Matt Lockard pays homage to the June 28^th Holy Day like the very best California Health Insurance agents always do.

In the Roman Catholic Church, there are holy days of obligation when Catholics feel obliged to attend Mass. The Catholic holy days are significant to devout Catholics, but downright silly to Mormons and Moslems. Insurance Awareness Day, which has been celebrated (according to certain obscure calendars such as the Jivan—pronounced jive-an, for thousands of years) — is a sacred day to every California Health Insurance agent. “Most of us begin the sacred holy day with a ritual jog before heading into the office,” explains Matt Lockard, “or else we jump up and down for several minutes to get the blood going.”

Once in the office, a candle is lit. It’s usually purple and delivers a pungent odor, especially in a confined space like an office setting. “I usually light the candle with a customer, my first appointment of the day, already in the office. No matter what kind of policy they’re buying, the lighting of the candle on Insurance Awareness Day seldom fails to elicit a response,” Matt explains. It seems to remind many people of exotic dancers.

In fact, an exotic dancer is sometimes hired to heighten the festivities, but the dance performed, the “Insurance Dance,” is very protective in nature. “Just watching it performed gives you a warm and fuzzy feeling all over,” Matt asserts, “I also get kind of tingly.” By the time the ritualistic dance is completed, most customers also feel covered. “It doesn’t matter what kind of policy you’re buying. When someone is doing the Dance, and there’s a California Health Insurance agent in the room, who wouldn’t feel that they could withstand any medical emergency?” Matt argues.

After the dance, Matt typically recites “The Insurance Poem of Light,” always uttered in a reverent tone, and then refreshments are served. “I’ve been known to serve cookies and milk, or lemonade and pretzels if it’s hot,” Matt explains, “and everyone leaves happy.”

So is it like a party? About this sensitive subject, Matt Lockard appeared subdued. “It’s not anyone’s birthday,” Matt says abruptly, “It’s Insurance Awareness Day.”

A frequent insurance-related question involves those so-called “lazy days” in May. Are they covered best by family or individual plans? Matt Lockard, a California Health Insurance agent, provides a few answers.

Matt Lockard considered it a perplexing question. He’d been hearing it from clients a lot lately. Are those “lazy hazy days in May” covered best by family or individual plans?

A young girl named Hazel, only fourteen, and still under the umbrella of a child’s plan, was the first to call. “It’s a lazy, hazy day in May,” she said, “Calloo Calay,” and then she sighed the way adolescents always do.

“How are your parents?” Matt asked her, considering tenderly that he had a daughter who was about the same age, although her name wasn’t Hazel. “How can I help you or them?”

Hazel was swift and to the point. She pounced as if her femur were about to break, but hadn’t. “Calloo Calay,” she repeated, “My mom wanted to know whether those lazy hazy days in May that people are always talking about are covered best by what kind of plan? She’s serious.”

“Calloo Calay,” said Matt, attempting to approach the spirit of how the question had been posed, “This is a grave matter, nothing to joke about. These kind of days can lead to a rash of accidents. People don’t pay as much attention to what they should be doing.” Almost as an afterthought, he added for emphasis, “Calloo Calay.”

Hazel was quite impressed, especially when Matt added the part about the family plan being best in their case, but that circumstances varied by family, or individuals, and about how a given demographic responded to the “lazy hazies,” as they are customarily referred to by California Health Insurance agents in the know.

A flood of calls ensued; however, as several “lazy, hazy days in May” began to influence the behavior of careless Californians. Matt started to second guess himself, and third guess, and fourth guess himself, in a profusion of guessing. This profusion caused a certain confusion. When he left his office to walk down the street for a sandwich on a particular lazy hazy day, he got lazy, and soon felt hazy, when he tripped on a crack in the sidewalk and fell on his knee. Fortunately, he landed directly on a carpet beetle wandering aimlessly about, which cushioned the blow. As for the beetle …

California Health Insurance agent Matt Lockard had assumed he’d heard it all when it came to warm weather allergies. But Dustin Coughman’s woes went way beyond the pale.

Matt Lockard, a California Health Insurance agent, had assumed he’d heard it all until he spoke to Dustin Coughman, at least as far as warm weather allergies were concerned. Most of the time, warm weather allergies, ragweed, rhinitis, and the like can infest nearby hills and vacant city lots to make his clients miserable, but it didn’t end there. Policyholders had been given the wheezies by such culprits as Russian thistle, or tumbleweed, coastal sage, mug woort, and pig weed, but until Dustin called on that fateful day, he’d never imagined what redroot could do to a human respiratory system, and also to the skin of a grown man.

Dustin sounded positively wretched when he decided to ring Matt up. “Matt,” he began, “May is my bad pollen month.”

It seemed that the only time that Dustin called was when he was in the midst of a bad allergy month. “I thought that April was your bad allergy month.”

“It’s bad too,” Dustin admitted in a pitiful croak which was becoming chronic, “but May is the worst.”

“What are your symptoms today?” Matt asked, attempting to be helpful.

“You don’t want to know,” Dustin croaked again, sounding even worse if that was possible.

“I do,” reiterated Matt, “That’s why I asked.”

There was a pause, as Dustin gathered up remnants of vocal cord, having to sort of bunch them to get his words out. The man’s throat was obviously inflamed. “Matt,” he said, “It’s my throa –“

“I figured that out already,” Matt replied, perhaps a little too smugly, “What are you allergic to in May? Do you even know?”

“Of course,” Dustin re-croaked, although it came out very much like hoarse instead of course, “I know exactly what it is. It was the tea that I had – prepared by Vageena, my well-meaning niece. It had redroot in it – I’m sure of it.”

“Redroot – redroot – redroot tea,” Matt rhymed, sort of, remembering an ancient jingle, then blurted, “Vageena?”  

“We call her Geena,” Dustin re-croaked again.  

“I understand,” Matt said, and he did.

“Can…you…call…,” Dustin begged piteously.

Matt, being the well-versed California Health Insurance agent that he was realized that Dustin was trying to croak “Urgent Care.” Dustin was picked up by a cab.

But later Matt felt a strange compulsion. “Red root tea,” he said to himself, “Gotta have some.”