The company silently sweeps the premium due every month from my bank account, while we go merrily about our separate ways.
I'm not sure I want to hear from the firm, to be frank.
But this week, I suddenly did.
The letter carrier brought a stately direct mail piece offering me a $400,000 accidental death and dismemberment policy.
It arrived one week to the day after the bombs blew up at the Boston Marathon.
Tchotchke peddlers began to cash in on the tragedy within 24 hours.
An insurance company simply moves a bit slower.
