Several years ago, we had a tree fall on our house during a pretty bad windstorm. This happened in roughly February, and being that this was Washington state, it was pretty rainy and miserable, so while crews came out to get the tree off the roof and everything, we ended up with patches — mainly tarps — over the holes because it was too wet and rainy still to fix the roof immediately.

When the incident first occurred, we didn’t have a dog, but between the time of the tarps being added to the roof and the weather clearing up enough to allow them to start repairs, we happened to get a rescue lab-retriever mix. Now here’s the thing with that lovable goofball: when we first got him, he was still young enough that he could have hopped the fence. What we didn’t know was that he wouldn’t — that dork had some interesting quirks, but that’s a story for another time. So, when nobody was home, we’d leave him in the yard, but he’d be on a lead — it was like a ninety-foot thing so he had a decent run of the yard, but again, we were trying to prevent him from potentially escaping.

It was getting to the point where the repairs are starting, and our landlord had reached out to his insurance company about getting repairs covered, so they had to send out an investigator. He managed to show up while no one was home, so he just wandered around the back of the house examining everything. We had gates on both sides of the house, and we didn’t know it at the time, but he left one of them open — the one on the far side of the house that we never used.

I got home from school and was the only one home. The rule was: get home, let the dog off his lead, play with him for a bit, and then go do homework. When I went to go back inside, he didn’t want to come in, so I left him in the yard because he didn’t mind it, and I went off to do my homework.

Sometime later, my mom got home and the landlord showed up and wanted to take a look at some reports he’d gotten from the investigator. He and my mom went into the backyard and my mom asked me where the dog was. Any guesses? He’d managed to find the open gate and slipped out. Unfortunately, I had no idea how long he’d been gone. We started looking for him but couldn’t find him anywhere. My brothers and I were kind of devastated.

My dad called the investigator.

Dad: “Why did you leave the gate open and not say anything about it?”

Investigator: “Well, the dog was tied up, so I didn’t think it mattered.”

Dad: *Pissed off beyond belief* “Okay, first of all, do you think we just keep him tied up all the time? Second, forget the dog for a moment. You had no way of knowing if there were small children here. What if one of them had gotten out of that open gate and then gotten hit by a car?”

We lived off a street that intersected with a main drag, so we’d get people speeding down the street all the time.

Investigator: “Oh, well, I guess I never thought of it like that.”

Dad: “Of course, you didn’t. You’d better hope we find the dog; otherwise, you will be buying a new dog for my kids.”

The investigator started sputtering about that not being fair.

Dad: “Maybe keep that in mind next time you’re wandering around properties.”

It took a couple of days, but we finally found the dog. We got really lucky and one of the families near the school had managed to grab him. We had started putting up Missing posters, and then a friend called having seen a Found poster. We’d put the Missing on one side of the pole and the Found posted was on the other side; you wouldn’t see it unless you turned around.

We got our dog back, and I don’t know what happened with that investigator, but knowing my dad, there was definitely something to the guy’s manager.

I have a long history of female issues and being precancerous. It has led to the need for a hysterectomy. I get all scheduled for surgery, and a few weeks prior, the doctor’s office calls me and informs me that my insurance will not cover my procedure until I “try” a medication that I have never heard of OR birth control… which I am supposed to take for three months.

This instantly amuses and irritates me. I am a forty-year-old female with three biological children. The youngest is almost fifteen. When I had her, I had a tubal ligation. For those that don’t speak medical… I got fixed. Therefore, I have been unable to have children for all of fifteen years now and I definitely don’t plan on having any more.

I reluctantly agree to the birth control, only because I have taken it once upon a time. My fiancé goes to pick up my birth control and, lo and behold, he is told that insurance will not authorize payment for it.

Let me get this straight: my insurance refuses to allow me to have a surgery that is medically necessary and is documented as such by more than one doctor. The insurance is making me take this medication in order to approve my surgery. But they are refusing to cover it. Did I get that right?

My insurance has gone downhill for the last few years but this takes the cake. When we get married in December, I will be leaving my insurance for my fiancé’s. This is the most ridiculous thing I have ever witnessed. I know one day I’ll look back and laugh, but right now I’m still too angry to do so.

As a teenager, my brother parked his car in neutral at the top of a hill one too many times, and it rolled all the way down, picking up a fair bit of speed before it crashed into a tree. Soon after, he was filling out an insurance claim online.

Form: “Was the car in motion at the time of the accident?”

Brother: “Yes.”

This triggered a required follow-up question.

Form: “Who was driving the car?”

Brother: “…”

Me: “Try entering ‘Sir Isaac Newton’.”

He eventually had to cancel the form and talk to a human agent, who agreed that there was really no good way for him to file online. Apparently, it had never occurred to the people who wrote the form that a car might move without a driver.

I’m a former car insurance agent. I once had someone screaming at me that if we didn’t do what he wanted, then he would cancel his policy. What he wanted was illegal, so it wasn’t happening no matter who he complained to. After he was repeatedly denied, he kept telling us to cancel his policy.

Me: “You should really get new insurance first; our state has mandatory insurance requirements on active registration.”

Customer: “Cancel it anyway, RIGHT NOW!”

So, I did.

A couple of days later, he called back, VERY pissed.

Customer: “I couldn’t find new insurance, and now my driver’s license is suspended, I have a court appearance, and I’m suspended from my job!”

He was caught driving without valid insurance, so on top of the normal issues of no insurance on active registration, so he now has a very expensive ticket, too. His job also required a valid license, so he couldn’t work until everything was resolved. I warned him, but he didn’t listen.

I’m not commissioned, so when I tell you something, try listening; I’m just trying to help you and advise you about the law.

I work in customer service for a healthcare insurance company. Healthcare insurance is mandatory in the Netherlands, so everyone has it — except if you object because of religious reasons, but then you have to pay for every form of care yourself, which is extremely expensive.

Because it is mandatory, we get a lot of calls from people asking what actually gets covered and what doesn’t get covered by their insurance, as they haven’t really looked it up. A lot of weird things get covered at this time, including stuff like reincarnation therapy and bleaching your teeth, so nothing really surprises me.

Me: “Hi, [Healthcare Insurance Company]. What can I help you with?”

Caller: “Hi. I was wondering if installing a new cover for my chair will get covered by my insurance? I pay a lot, you know.”

I look it up in the system, and guess what, there is actually a way to get this compensated.

Me: “Do you perhaps need a chair cover that’s made of anti-allergic material? Because that would get covered as long as you can provide a doctor’s note showing you are extremely or deathly allergic to certain materials and need a special cover.”

Caller: “No, I am not. The chair is dirty and needs a new cover.”

Me: “Ah, I’m afraid that won’t be covered by healthcare insurance. I’m sorry.”

The caller suddenly starts screaming at the top of her lungs.

Caller: “You are killing my son! You are killing him!“

Me: “I’m sorry, is your son allergic? I don’t understand—”

Caller: “My son won’t eat if he’s sitting on a dirty f****** chair! If he doesn’t eat, he dies! You’re killing him!“

Me: “Um… I…”

Caller: “I cannot change the chair cover myself as I am rheumatic, so you had better make sure I will get a new cover compensated and installed!”

Me: “I’m sorry to hear that, ma’am, but it would only get covered if you or your son were extremely or deadly allergic to—”

Caller: “No! You will get this compensated for me!”

Me: “I’m really sorry, but that’s not possible. I don’t want to sound rude, but isn’t it possible to ask a friend or family member to change—”

Caller: “You are the reason my son will be dead soon! You are a child killer! I hope you die!” *Click*

Either teach your son that sitting on a dirty chair is no reason to stop eating or ask someone else to change the cover for you. Let him sit on the couch, instead, or buy a new chair. There are so many solutions; wishing someone dead is not one of them!