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Gilead McBride was laid off from his job at the refinery and used some accumulated capital to fulfill a lifelong dream and start a new business. But he ran into a glitch and needed Matt’s help.

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Gilead McBride called Matt one summer day to invite him to the candle factory. “I’ll make it worth your while,” Gilead said. Gilead and Matt went way back.

It was up in Oxnard, by the tracks, in a part of town that smelled bad. Matt didn’t know what to expect. When Matt Lockard opened the door to the factory, the aromatics were sinus-draining, making his eyes water. “What is this place?” he asked Gilead.

“We make candles,” Gilead replied.

“I thought you worked in a refinery outside of Escondido,” Matt said.

“Nope, they laid me off after twenty-six years. But this is my dream.”

“Making candles?”

 “Not just candles, we make candles with exotic scents.”

Matt followed Gilead to an assembly line where samples of scents lay at the ready.

He picked up a candle, yellow with black stripes. It vaguely resembled a candy cane impersonating a yellowjacket. “Here, smell it.” Gilead said.

Matt reluctantly took a whiff. Something vaguely like manure greeted his nostrils.

“Distant horse stable,” said Gideon proudly, without being asked. Other candles followed in quick succession. Soon Matt’s olfactory sense felt like it’d been assaulted.

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There was a subtle odor of something cooking. Smelled like walking through a tight knit apartment complex. Matt couldn’t quite put his finger on that smell. Familiar but not really inviting like you’ll never own it. “It’s called, ‘Hey, what’s that you’re eating?’” Gideon explained.

A beige-colored candle with the scent of baby powder and sour milk, its scent described as “baby fingers” almost made the California Health Insurance agent gag.

Finally, as Matt escaped into the candle factory’s sealed air-conditioned office, he found out what Gideon had been wanting all along.

“The state says I need group health insurance for my employees, and Cobra is too expensive,” the fledgling candle-maker explained. Matt had noticed some employees milling about in the factory. They seemed listless, probably from smelling too many of these candles. Group health insurance would be needed here, probably in a hurry.

“I can help,” Matt Lockard said, sniffing again once more just to see if he could.

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James Elbert thought his family too odd for inclusion in a health insurance plan. But customizing a family plan for the Elbert’s was quite do-able.

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The Elberts, James, wife Jane, and the kids – Patrick, Jorel, and Wendy – at first glance epitomized the average American family living in La Puente. Dark-haired with pleasant, angular faces, they weren’t ugly; each was well-spoken and polite, although Wendy the youngest was only nine.  On second glance, one noticed that each of them possessed seven fingers on each hand, and if their bare feet were inspected, seven toes on each foot. When 17-year-old Jorel was in an accident at the factory, he proved to be less than a Superman; one of two left index fingers had been nearly severed at the second joint in a slicing machine. At the hospital, Jorel came in with his Dad. The first question asked by an on-duty intake woman seemed like a given, “Do you have insurance young man?” The teenager was lapsing into shock, but managed to look at his father who handled the visual cue appropriately. “No, he doesn’t,” the seven-fingered man admitted. “Why not?” the diligent hospital employee asked, musing about bills never paid when patients prove indigent. When James scratched his forehead in plain view, she considered if she wasn’t being given an extra finger or two. She finally smiled pleasantly when the man assumed responsibility then and there. “I’ll sign for the bills!”

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Jorel was admitted, and the hospital saved his finger.

But this incident gave way to serious soul-searching on the part of Mr. Elbert. “Why don’t we have a family plan?” he pondered. Deep down, he knew. During his otherwise uneventful childhood, James had been told by a wizened grandmother figure living in the home that because he had seven digits on each limb, that he was cursed, and if he ever married a woman with more digits than she was entitled to “by a just God,” then at the very least their family would someday be categorically denied family health insurance coverage. Still, he possessed extraordinary courage and picked up the phone, his fingers like a spider’s legs, and called the first California health insurance agent that came into view.

It was Matt Lockard. After hearing the story, he made his comment succinct. “Wizened grandmother figures always say that in situations like yours. That’s why they don’t sell family plans.”

To learn more please visit: http://www.mattsinsurance4ca.com

Mattsinsurance4ca.com is a licensed health insurance agent in California. They provide instant online quote for health insurance, Medicare Supplements, travel health insurance, and child only health insurance.

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