Deep down I knew this day would come. I just didn't know when. This is my final column for Claims Magazine. Looking back, my first article for this publication appeared in the October 1986 issue. At that time, the magazine went by the name of The Insurance Adjuster. As I recall, that initial article was a book review column. I worked with then Editor Merl Gors, followed by a succession of fine editors, culminating with the current holder of that title, Eric Gilkey. One thing led to another. A book review column morphed into a claim column, then a risk management column, and then an alternating theme each month.
Recently, I re-entered the corporate world. Sure, I am delighted to have an opportunity to be back in a corporate fold. However, the time demands of my new role are inconsistent with the same continued pace of writing. After nearly 25 years of writing articles and columns for Claims, the run is over. It's been a great run, too, one for which I am extremely grateful. When I penned that first book review column in 1986, I had no inkling that it was the start of a nearly quarter-century-long collaboration or the entry into a parallel career as a business writer.
Now don't get me wrong; writing for Claims has been both a challenge and a joy. Coming up with new ideas and knocking out another article—one that you hope will make sense—establishes a monthly rhythm. Some liken writing a monthly column to being married to a nymphomaniac. As soon as you're finished, it's time to do it all over again!
Still, coming up with column ideas has never been a huge challenge. I have not had to see if my HMO covers writer's block, as it has not afflicted me. I have an inventory that could take me well into 2011. During the course of writing columns for Claims, here are some things I have learned:
To laugh. A sense of humor is a career survival tool in claims, where you encounter situations in which you simply have to laugh to keep from crying. The best claim personnel I have known during my nearly three decades of service took their jobs seriously, but they didn't necessarily take themselves seriously. As Dwight D. Eisenhower said, "A sense of humor is part of the art of leadership, of getting along with people, of getting things done."
To never stop learning. I often compare the claim profession to swimming like a shark; if you don't keep moving you'll die, at least professionally. The business of loss touches virtually every facet of human endeavor. This can be both enriching and frustrating—enriching because there are always new opportunities for growth; frustrating because you could never learn it all even with multiple lifetimes. Smart claim professionals realize how much they don't know. The legendary UCLA basketball Coach John Wooden said, "It's what you learn after you know it all that counts." I also endorse the view of futurist Alvin Toffler who said, "The illiterate of the future are not those who cannot read or write but those who cannot learn, unlearn, and re-learn." The top claim professionals will be those who never stop learning. Although this may involve taking courses that lead to "letter designations," it need not be in that context. The capacity to learn, to adapt, and to embrace change are survival skills of the 21st century claim professional.
To treat claims as a profession, whether the rest of the world recognizes it as one or not. I don't know if the job of claim adjusting is officially a profession. I vaguely recall the old CPCU 10 course discussion of what constitutes a profession. I believe it required some recognized curriculum of study, a canon of ethics, and an element of public service. I believe these qualities certainly apply to adjusting.
To invest in people skills. In the claim profession, there are tons of good or superb technical people whose career paths maxed out because they lacked the people skills to go any farther. Those who don't "get" people skills tend to plateau and top out in terms of career advancement. Employers now look for likability. They want people who are warm, friendly, easygoing, and cooperative with others. They essentially want people who can join a claim team and be part of the work "family."
The moral here is to build bridges. No man—or claim professional, for that matter—is an island. The most brilliant claim technician with seven specialty designations ("more degrees than a thermometer") will flop if he or she cannot relate to others.
In terms of future claim columns and writing, I shy away from the word "never." As the saying goes, when one door closes, another opens. I will continue writing, but you may not happen upon any of my articles unless your casual reading runs to the likes of Medical Product Outsourcing, The Journal of Biotechnology, or Medical Device Executive. (Some may say these are more potent than Ambien in curing insomnia.)
One of my favorite authors, George Leonard, wrote a book titled, Mastery. In it, he tells of a Zen monk who for years tried unsuccessfully to climb a Himalayan mountain. After years of failed attempts, he finally positioned himself to reach the summit. The monk somehow knew that the peak was his the next day. He'd worked for years to attain this goal, this dream, this summit. He relished the prospect and, in his mind's eye, expected a transformative epiphany. The monk sought to plan a grand gesture befitting the accomplishment as he visualized standing on the mountain peak he had dreamed of for such a long time.
Searching for the best idea on the eve of this milestone, he approached the local Zen master and asked, "What do I do when I reach the top of the mountain?"
"Keep on climbing," the Zen Master replied.
Despite the fact that I'm no Zen Master, that is also my parting message to you.
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