For this month's cover story, I spoke with MitchellInternational's Mike Mahoney about obstructions to information flowbetween claims and underwriting. What does a contentiousexchange—or the absence of communication at all between thetwo—really cost the insurer? What internal warfare is waged in theminds of P&C professionals who may inhabit the same officespace but draw upon different philosophies on managing risk andwhom to hold accountable when profitability plummets and claimscosts spiral out of control? Beyond undermining careers or theoccasional company teambuilding retreat (“You want Tina fromaccounting to…catch me…Like, with her arms?) this disconnectundermines insurers' collective fraud-fighting power and overall profitability.

Once a certain level of depersonalization sets in, is there evera point of “no return,” or conversely, hope for real unification asopposed to tepid acquiscence?

As the Claims editorial team waded through environmentalforensics and training mechanisms for entrants to adjusting to procure thismonth's issue, we shared some misadventures in insurance. Oneinvolved a man who could have passed as Clint Eastwood's less coolbrother ramming toy cars into each other and posing hypotheticalcollision scenarios—always a treat after hours of those ghastlyroad carnage videos in driving school. I recalled meeting myhomeowners' insurance agent for the first time. He seemed cordialenough but not in an artificially saccharine manner. I appreciatedthat. Then again, I liked pretty much everything at that point.

Mere months off the “good student” discount, I was working inpublishing—my dream—and just settling into a modest 1920s bungalowwith creaky floors whose subtle scents reminded me of hugs fromGrandpa on a summer day. Intoxicated with possibilities, Idaydreamed, replying by rote as the agent progressed down achecklist. “Any jewelry or collectibles?,” he asked. Then, after apause, he inquired if there were any “pets on the premises.” Iproceeded to gush about having just adopted a puppy a week prior.The agent sighed, and the intonation of his voice shifted as hefuriously scribbled on a pad and asked about the breed, weight, andso on. Palms sweaty,  I prattled with the desperation of aparent pleading to have her kid admitted to an elite prep school.“Um. She's smart, you know; a cousin of the Border Collie and veryquiet.”

As my voice trailed off, a vision appeared of my dog, Roxie,darting out the door and startling a postal worker, who thenslipped and fell, yelping in pain. Come to think of it, the porchis due for a fresh coat of paint, I figured. That was over 6 yearsago and he did write the policy, after explaining that there arecertain breed-specific exclusions in my state. Since then, I havesettled into pet parenthood and am blessed to share laughs withneighbors who enjoy taking Roxie for walks or feeding hert-r-e-a-t-s.

Unfortunately for insurers and the houses they extend coverageto, some folks would simply lie when asked about pets. Or, maybe they were telling the truth atthe time.

Lifestyles rapidly cycle,  meaning that underwritersmay inadvertently assume greater risks for claims to possiblyshoulder at a later point. My life looks a lot different than itdid when that carrier extended coverage to me, and that is a goodthing.

What do you think about the notion of the insurer as a “lifepartner,” and not simply an impersonal provider of services orproducts deemed mandatory? Risks look much differently whenunraveling before our eyes. Isn't separating the earnest from thedishonest, fact from fiction, worth a little awkwardness and extraeffort? Email me. Let me know what you think. I'd love for us toconnect.