The Volunteer Spirit Within

As I prepare for my year leading IIABA as chairman, I have been spending a lot of time reflecting on why my volunteer work has become such a significant part of my life. I can’t tell you how many times I’ve been asked, “So why do you do this stuff?” or “What’s in it for you?”

I can vividly remember the first time I was asked that question. It was during a conversation I had with my dear old Dad, a retired senior vice president, while we were sitting on his porch in Boca Raton, Fla. I had just been elected to the board of directors of the Minnesota association and my Dad said (rather facetiously), “How much do you get paid to do that? Holy cow! Go out and sell something!” I’m sure many readers have had a similar discussion with their dads or bosses at one time or another.

I recall giving him a bologna-type answer so he’d get off my case, but to be honest with you, I wasn’t totally sure yet that I understood why I was doing it. But I did know that the answer had something to do with the people.

Through my years of work with our association, I have been amazed by the caliber of people that a small town, “Father Knows Best” type of agent like me has been fortunate enough to work with: really talented people—visionaries all; planners, doers and politicians. I’ve met sales greats to steal from, educators and technicians to learn from, funny guys to laugh with and serious guys to reflect with. People who have changed my life. People who have, hopefully, not only helped me become a better insurance person, but also a better man.

In the early days, I was moved and motivated by David Reynen, a principal in the agency Strifert, Reynen, and Capretz, in Austin, Minn. David a CPCU—the first technically smart insurance guy I had ever met. He was a great insurance person, but he was more; Insurance companies all trusted and respected Dave. People in his town loved him, and he loved them. Dave was the first guy who taught me that customers were more than a source of income. Taking care of them had a broader meaning to him.

Dave wasn’t just an “insurance salesman;” he was, and still is, an amazing guy, a friend and a teacher. He was the first guy to reach out and encourage me to get involved in the association. Over the years I’ve thought about that a lot.

Dave was the first in a long line of agents who have touched my career and driven home the value proposition that independent agents bring consumers. The puzzling thing though, is that our research has indicated consumers don’t quite understand that value proposition.

Trusted Choice® isn’t a thing—it’s a descriptor. It is who we are and what we mean to our communities. What I’ve learned over the years is that we aren’t just out there “selling something” to make a buck. That’s what the other guys do. Independent agents are so much more. There’s something in our makeup, in our psyche—a quality that is hard to identify but that we all possess—that asks us to do more.

We desire and even need to be something more in our communities and to our customers. We are the movers and shakers. The people who make things happen. We are the T-ball coaches, the mayors and the city council people. We are the people who sit on the nonprofit boards, the church trustees, the fundraisers. We are advisors and counselors. Problem solvers. For some reason, people feel comfortable approaching us for advice and support on all kinds of things: concerns with business, problems at home and personal struggles.

I would challenge every agent reading this to look back over the last week and think about the conversations that you’ve had with customers and friends that had nothing to do with selling them something. Our clients aren’t just numbers on a computer screen; they are so much more.

That is our brand and our identity. That is what makes us different. So with this first column of my chairmanship, I’m humbled. Humbled to serve, humbled to lead and humbled to be included in your ranks. I have learned the true meaning of being an independent agent—a consumer’s “Trusted Choice®”—and I know that if my Dad were still alive today, he’d understand too.

—Michael Donohoe, Big “I” chairman