“Excuse me, sir. It says here that you have Butterfly Kisses Insurance,” the receptionist at the doctor’s office said, motioning Randy over to the desk.
Randy stood up. He wore a cutoff motorcycle jacket that showed several tattoos. With his long, crazy beard, Randy towered over the receptionist’s desk.
“That’s right, Randy said, crossing his arms. Everyone in the reception area looked at Randy. Randy scoffed. All of this was for a checkup. Then he remembered what his sister told him—be a steward.
“Can you explain the deal with this insurance?” the receptionist asked. “I’ve never heard of it.”
Randy turned so the whole office could hear him. “Butterfly Kisses Insurance is a non-profit insurance company. It works by having a pod of five people so that everyone can get a fair price for insurance. At least three people must be young, which is how I joined. We were looking for an option for my parents, and my sister found this.”
“That’s interesting,” said the receptionist. “Why’s it called Butterfly Kisses insurance?”
“It cuts down on payouts,” Randy said. “If some moron is too afraid to say Butterfly Kisses Insurance, he’s likely to be a destructive dirtbag that won’t go to the doctor until he’s in the ER and is likely to drive up the price. They have fair premiums and great benefits. Look! I have the butterfly logo tattooed on my arm.”