Since becoming a full-time insurance agent, I’ve sold medicare advantage plans, AKA part C, for a hot second, then received additional training to sell affordable healthcare plans on the federally-run marketplace, AKA “Obamacare.” Originally, I embraced the opportunity to expand my skill set, but I had no idea, back in August 2016, what a hot mess awaited me.
Once I stopped being preoccupied with the occasional fickleness of the websites and the new information, I settled into a general work rhythm. I tuned into the needs of my customers, especially the unhappiest ones who did not qualify for subsidy–the amount of money the government contributed to the premium of a healthcare plan. They either made too little or too much money.
As usual, I felt more sympathetic for the people who made too little money to qualify for a subsidy. When you’re poor, you have next to no options. I was trained to tell them they’d have to contact healthcare.gov to see if they qualified for Medicaid. Yet, some already knew they didn’t qualify for Medicaid. They were in the position of being too poor for a subsidy, but too “rich” for Medicaid. In angry despair, they’d ask me what were they supposed to do. As far as I knew, what this boiled down to was whether they lived in a state where their governor had extended Medicaid benefits. If so, then they would be covered. If not, then they remained uninsured. Of course, I never told them that.
Initially, I’d go down the rabbit hole with these customers, thinking my job was to solve the challenge of getting them coverage. Yet, I’d have to be a wheeling and dealing politician, able to persuade all the governors who hadn’t extended Medicaid benefits to do so. Much beyond the scope of my duties as an insurance agent. After one week, I told such customers to checkout healthcare.gov, and with as much sympathy and politeness as I could, I ended the call.
I’d heard from these customers about other agents rudely hanging up once they realized the customer had no income or very little income. I had to do better than that. I knew I could at least treat them with respect and dignity. After all, I wasn’t able to enroll them into a healthcare plan, but I could still acknowledge that another human being was on the other end of the call. I never want to lose sight of that.
At the other end of the spectrum were the customers who made too much money to qualify for a subsidy. They were ever bit as angry as the people who made too little money, but far more articulate and political. Upon hearing the full premium amount for the cost of healthcare coverage, they’d sarcastically question how this could be “affordable” healthcare. Bitter about what they viewed as “socialist” healthcare, they’d optimistically state how the new president would end the “Obamanation.” Very few reflected how wonderful that less fortunate Americans were able to get healthcare. Yet, even those customers stated THEY didn’t want to bankroll the less fortunate’s coverage.
Again, I didn’t go down the political rabbit hole. At least with the ones who “make too much money,” I still reviewed what the best plan for them was. Some chose to pay the penalty and gamble they won’t have a medical emergency. Others said they’d contact their local health carriers, which weren’t on the federal marketplace, the only place my coworkers and I look for healthcare plans.
As this political football gets tossed about, I continue enrolling the “Goldilocks” customer: they make just enough money to qualify for coverage and live in a zip code where they like their choice of carriers.
This experience has reconfirmed one conclusion I’ve had for the last couple of years: people have more in common with other people in their same socioeconomic status (SES) than their same “race.” Some people are loathe to admit they have more in common with people of the same SES who come from a different “race” than people from the same “race,” but different SES.
I keep putting the word “race” in quotations because it’s a pseudoscientific construct. Yet, economic-based class difference is very real. You can either afford to pay for both a place to live and a car note or you can’t. That situation was made very clear to me last year when I taught Adult Basic Education classes and at least two of my students were living out of their cars. Their conclusion to the economic dilemma was that a car could get them to a job, but an apartment could not.
Both students were from different “races,” but the same SES. At the end of one’s money, what are “race” and politics? Neither one buys food, pays rent nor qualifies or disqualifies one for health insurance. Only money.