Broker's diary: The "connected" connection

Here I am, a Corporate Broker, issuing an invoice to a client for about 90,000 against which brokerage will be well earned although, I confess, this year, it has not exactly been a chore. The fact is, vast and time-consuming efforts of years

Such is the nature of our business. Months, nay, sometimes years of unremitting toil in an endeavour to earn a crust brings us the odd nugget of joy when we can simply process a renewal without rancour or complaint and scuttle away with the proceeds, "Yes mother, the children will be fed tonight", we cry. Not for us to charge by the hour as with certain other professions.

Now, pay attention! I am not talking about ladies of the night but rather solicitors and the like. Oh dear! I am getting into deep water but, never mind, you get my drift. (Drift/deep water? Oh!, just forget it!), (Solicitors/ladies of the night? - even worse!) You will have, by now, gathered that I am in the mood for some levity.

It's the "connected client" that I am after complaining about. They are the ones that compel me into the world of personal lines insurance. A pond in which I do not wish to swim, a jungle I do not seek to penetrate, a desert I care not to traverse, a need for me to subjugate myself for the benefit of what is really important.

Now, "connected clients" come in two categories. There are those who value your work for the companies they are connected to and want similar service for their personal affairs. Fair enough, part of the job, all included in the general service, a cross we have to bear, but generally not too much of a nuisance particularly when you earn the odd brownie point or two sorting out the pony that has flung next door's little offspring to the ground - "not covered under the household policy I'm afraid but let me heap on loads of sympathy and if next door want to sue, you I can tell them to shove off rather more professionally than you"!

Now, what's this? The second category of "connected" that should have been erased from our portfolio yonks ago. Never mind, they are decent people despite the small claims spree that seems to afflict their household policy each year just prior to holiday time. Aaaaargh! I have just mentioned holidays, the time when their luggage collection is replenished courtesy of either insurers or airline not to mention the odd "Game Boy", mobile, or camera that goes missing. Like night following day, there is always something!

This time it is daughter Veronica (not her real name even if it begins with a "V") who is going to Uni. You know, one of those red brick affairs where they specialise in social sciences. My goodness, Getgood, you are a snob despite never having been to university yourself!

Anyway, Veronica's mummy and daddy want to make sure her things are covered under the jolly old H/C policy whilst she is away. "All tickety boo" I say. "No problem, don't worry. By the way, cover excludes the vile attentions of male undergrads", I add-- a comment that doesn't seem to go down too well! "But what if she loses her mobile and someone runs up vast call charges? After all you know what teenagers are like", mummy trills. That's not the worst thing she's about to lose, I think.

Veronica trolls off to Uni insured against the loss of just about everything except her virginity. In the meantime daddy discovers the internet or, "net" as he likes to call it being one of those switched on types. "Do you know", he says, "I can arrange my insurances much cheaper through the net. These direct writers offer fantastic premiums."

"Right on" I enthuse, trying to get into the spirit of the thing and hoping this is going to be the answer to my prayer and that the whole family will disappear into the nether world of cyber cover.

But I find myself saying that the problem with direct writers is that they don't talk to you like a friend, don't provide you with solace when the going gets rough, don't take a sympathetic view of your latest "grey area' claim because of the strength of the connection and, more to the point, actually want to know what claims you have had before providing the glittering terms on offer. (Non disclosure - what's that?)

The case is renewed; thus starts another year of queries, claims handling and comfort zone provision all for less than a hundred quid.

Now here is a thought. Charge the "connecteds" by the hour whilst earning fee or brokerage on the corporate. But, you see, it won't work because they wouldn't be "connecteds" any more and, if the truth be known, I do rather like them!

Talking of "connected" clients, one of the more dramatic was the son of a company director who controlled one of my larger accounts. The young man in question in his mid-twenties was employed by one of the banks as a dealer and enjoyed salary bonuses that ran well into six figures and far beyond! Hence the flat in the West End of London and the Ferrari Testerossa.

It is in the latter context that my services were sought. Young, Central London, bit of a driving record and "what's that?, you did say Ferrari didn't you, O.K., no problem, just leave it to me" followed by head in hands and groans of despair. But cover was duly obtained and everyone was happy.

That same young man is now head of trading for a bank in New York and a day or so after 11 September I summoned up the courage to phone his dad to see if he was all right. It seems his apartment was affected by the disaster but, happily, he was out of town that day.

Youth, talent, wealth. It counts for not a candle if life itself is lost. Somehow, thinking of just one person helped me begin to get my head round the enormity of all those fine people gone forever. A few insurance problems are totally insignificant by comparison and, although life goes on, hopefully for me at least it will be with a better sense of perspective.