Which started out ordinary - a regular policy that covered me for fire, and theft, and flooding, and when that wasn’t enough the salesman added acts of god, but I asked for more, and he threw in life. And when I was unsatisfied he said Aha, and led me to the basement of the insurance company skyscraper where accountants in white coats tinkered with a policy with untamed and frighteningly generous allowances for the company’s least claimed items, like the startling revelations of a cherished grandfather, and the dog getting its foot stuck in a carafe of red wine and sloshing it around the white rug as it tries to pull it out again and makes such a mess that the rug is not salvageable, and the electrician on the roof of the apartment block knocking loose a tile which shatters on the ground outside your window - and he swears it’s not asbestos, but why do you suddenly have this cough, and that night you can’t sleep for hours. And also for when you’re driving along a deserted stretch of country road and spot a tree draped with dead flowers and you wonder if the young man who abruptly halted there did so intentionally - and you think to yourself, a few metres to the left, wouldn’t be so hard, a quick sharp bang and then climb the steps towards the cloud pierced through with golden rods warmly, which abstract though they may be comfort us through these dark nights in caves and huts and houses, rouse us towards something next, and all the while smoke and gases leak out of the hood and the engine makes a ticking sound which is someone else’s problem. Just an intrusive thought, but it changes the tenor of your drive. And for your favourite shows being cancelled. And for termites in your father's chessboard. And the salesman told me: did you know that when most people walk past a nightclub and sense that the dancers inside would have next to nothing in common with them and resolve in that moment to disdain their youthful excesses but only last a half an hour before reverting to glumly wishing to be cut in on the action, that they have no recourse? Did you know that when the reproachful eyes of the retiree on the corner's elderly maltese terrier project a sentiment that falls only slightly short of verbally asserting that you abused it in some terrible way in a past life, it usually does not trigger a sizeable payout? Did you know that the immense suffering occurring at all times nearly everywhere benefits no one, of course, and that no one includes you - but it needn't? That with your signature on the dotted line and payments made in full and on time, you may be not just protected but forearmed against the many pernicious evils that may seek you out and assert a malign influence on your life - you, who deserve none of it. And I asked at what cost and he answered
This is so brilliant!!
I too participate in an agreement where I am compensated financially for having bad experienses, it's called a job.