We interrupt our regularly scheduled post for a quick announcement: I’ve just launched a Kickstarter! The project is for my upcoming book Let’s Fix This: Cleaner Living in a Dirty World. It’s a comprehensive guide on how individuals like you and me can take real action on the environment. So if you — or someone you know — have been suffering from ecoanxiety, this book will help you stop stressing and start doing. My goal with this book is to get into as many hands as possible so we can make a real difference; backing this project will help me do so. And as a backer, you’ll get early access to the book! There are a number of reward tiers available, any and all support would be appreciated. Check it out here.
Thank you! And now, back to the post:
I read something the other day that really disturbed me.
It was not, as you might suspect, an advertisement for a movie-of-the-week starring the Kardashians, with narration provided by Howard Stern. That would be beyond disturbing.
No, this was an ad for an insurance company. Normally, insurance ads don’t scare me — unless they provide a formula for calculating premiums on cars I’d like to own: i.e., something that isn’t hamster-powered. But this advertisement had some even scarier implications.
It talks about a new idea for determining what people should pay for term health insurance.
How? “By looking,” it says, “in greater detail at your lifestyle and medical history, we can now reward your good health with significantly improved rates.”
On the surface, this sounds like a fine idea. Because I don’t wheeze and I’m not a funny shade of blue, I am not as much of a drain on the health care system as, say, an asthmatic smurf. Therefore, it seems right to reward me by charging me less.
But this begs a lot of questions. Namely: who is going to look at your lifestyle and medical history in detail? If it’s your doctor, then we should all be beneficiaries of lower premiums very soon. This is because doctors these days spend approximately 3.2 minutes on physical examinations, which usually proceed like so:
DOC: Any dizziness, nausea, large blue spots, unexplained headaches, or tentacle growth?
YOU: Er, no.
DOC: Any desire to scream hysterically and irrationally for fifteen minutes at a time?
YOU: Not since I finally found a parking spot outside the clinic.
DOC: Good, you pass. Get out.
YOU: Um, don’t I have to say “ah?”
DOC: Oh fine, go ahead.
YOU: Ahhhhhh…
DOC: Good, you pass. Get out. NEXT!
In other words, provided you can control the facial twitching, and the nurse doesn’t actually find you squashed underneath the avalanche of Reader’s Digest magazines in the waiting room, you can pretty much fake good health. I usually manage to get in and out before the cold germs from the sneezing/screaming toddlers set in.
Having the insurance agent look at your lifestyle and medical history is a more frightening proposition. Remember, these are people who make their living by betting on when you will die. They are just like bookies, only bookies have better suits. Furthermore, agents talk funny;
AGENT: Does the party of the first part hereby conditionally assure the party of the second part subject to the conditions, specifications and provisions of Certificate A, Paragraph X, Clause 111, that the party of the first part has no history of subdermal haematomas?
YOU: Um, yes?
AGENT: Heretofore and thereafter, is the party of the second part guaranteed by the aforementioned to minimize epidermal exposure in part or in whole to abrasions as defined by Pink Slip 6, Subsection 2?
YOU: Um, no?
AGENT: Will the party of the first part-
YOU: [Sob!] I don’t know! I’ll sign, I’ll sign! Just make it stop!
The other question that worries me is: what makes up a healthy lifestyle? Although the ad doesn’t say so, I presume this idea was inspired by the anti-smoking movement. Since cigarettes are currently thought to be responsible for everything from bad breath to cancer, rewarding non-smokers seems clever enough.
But where do you go from there? For instance, do you penalize the lazy slob who drives a car three blocks to work? Or the nutcase cyclist who bikes there in the wake of a smog-belching diesel bus? Do you reward a skier because she is out exercising? Or punish her because at any moment she could end up with a really, really intimate knowledge of tree bark?
This doesn’t even begin to delve into “health studies.” Depending on what research group is publishing its findings, your insurance policy could change from minute to minute:
AGENT: We’re upping your premiums.
YOU: What?! But I’ve been eating oat bran!
AGENT: Yes, and a new study suggests that over-consumption of oat products leads to cirrhosis of the big toe. You now owe us $43,456 in back payments.
YOU: Argh! [splat]
AGENT: [looking over body) Damn.
And of course, the other question is who gets to determine the definition of a healthy lifestyle.
The only thing worse than an insurance agent would be … an insurance agent that voluntarily eats muesli and does — shudder — aerobics.
Which just goes to show you that the road to hell is paved with good intentions. Or at least, it would be if public works hadn’t done a study proving that paving is bad for their health.