The Case of the Zany Zen Master

I like to learn new things, so every once in a while I wander over to the adult learning center and take the class that has the most women signed up.

Today I was learning how to endure pain. A lot of pain. It was a class on Zen meditation, and I had been sitting like a pretzel in the lotus position for close to an hour, listening to Master Chung repeat “Ohhmmm” over and over.

I tried to “ohm” with him, but the pain in my knees grew to a point that could only be described with words such as “excruciating” and “1,000 tiny daggers of lava.” So I untangled myself with a giant sigh.

“Mr. Insura, the path to enlightment lies within meditation. Why did you stop?”

“Well, Master Chung,” I said, shaking my legs to get the feeling back in my feet, “I guess I’m a quitter.”

“If at first you don’t succeed, Mr. Insura, then skydiving is not for you.”

“Funny. Are you a Zen master or a comedian?”

“Actually, I only teach part time. During the day I’m an insurance agent, and I have a problem only you can help with.”

I tend to get nervous when I’m put on the spot. I tend to get even more nervous when said spot is in front of three female classmates, who just so happened to have all the characteristics I looked for in a partner: they were breathing and plague free.

“Why…why me?” I stammered, trying to push out a smile.

“Because you’re unique, just like everyone else. Now, I have an insured couple who has two HO-3 policies—one in a resort area where they live 12 months of the year, and another in the city that used to be their primary residence but is now occupied by their daughter as her primary residence. The city residence was burglarized and the daughter made a claim for loss of her personal property. The company denied the claim because she is not a resident of the named insureds’ household, even though she is a relative. Can they do that?”

“Was she listed on either policy?”

“I wish I could say yes, but no. If I had fully understood the living arrangements and occupancies, I would have written a dwelling policy for the city house and suggested an HO-4 for the daughter. But what can I do now, Ace?”

“Well,” I said, “I’m not sure where the path to enlightment leads, but I know the path to disappointment goes straight to your door.”

Why was Ace taking the gloomy path? For help solving this mystery and to check your solution against Ace’s, click here.

Jonathan Hermann (hermannism@gmail.com) is an IA contributing editor.