Posted 1/14/2011

REAL MAD MEN OF THE SIXTIES :
THE JOCK

We were waiting in a Continental Insurance Company conference room to present our introductory newspaper ad for the new Medicare Gap Filler insurance product. Dick Larson, the account exec, and Ronnie Milding, the creative guy, were fidgeting as we waited for Continental VP Biff Broadbent to show up.

This was a critical meeting. For three years, all the casualty insurance companies in America had been trying to design and sell a product that filled all the gaps in Medicare. Actually, designing a Medicare gap filler was easy. It was figuring out how to describe and sell something so complex that had the industry stumped.

Nobody in our creative department was able to comprehend what the product would actually do in enough detail necessary to sell the product.

Then one day, totally frustrated, I drew a diagram which showed two horizontal bars running across a page. The bottom bar showed what Medicare covered. The top bar showed what we covered. The net effect was threefold:

(1) It clearly showed what Medicare covered and did not cover;

(2) It clearly showed that our product filled in all the gaps so as to make the insurance user financially whole; and

(3) It showed that a person over 65 could go to the hospital without having to spend a cent.

We were confident we had the ad. The pictorial was a stark, naked hospital bed with nobody in it. It was really scary.

Over the bed, the headline blared, "THIS IS WHERE YOU WILL FIND OUT ALL THE COSTS MEDICARE DOES NOT COVER!"

Under the photo, we presented our brand -- "Continental Medicare Gap Filler" -- with a little ad hoo-hah, followed by all the mandatory legal copy required by the states' insurance departments. At the bottom of the ad, we presented two application forms asking readers to send in the first month's premium of $3.

The only thing worrying me was Ronnie. He was a really slight, delicate person who was about to confront Biff Broadbent – a former linebacker for the Baltimore Colts. Biff loved to sit around in his underwear, swilling beer and telling jock stories about his days in pro football. That was in hotel rooms.

In the office, he usually wore a business suit. But even dressed by Hart Schaffner Marx, he looked like a bear coming out of hibernation.

Suddenly Biff burst into the room. "Hiya, guys. You got the problem solved? Otherwise, I'm gonna cream you."

He seemed to make the walls rattle. Ronnie jumped a foot in his chair. Dick remained cool.

After I made the introductions, during which Biff nearly crushed Ronnie's hand, we settled in around a coffee table. A white-faced Ronnie stood up and faced Biff, who was emitting power vibes.

Ronnie took the ad out of his case and held it up in front of him. Biff glared at the ad as Ronnie squeaked out his pitch.

Suddenly Biff exploded, "Goddamn, I'd hate to get laid in that bed!"

Ronnie fell back into his chair and dropped the ad.

I reached over, picked up the ad and placed it on Ronnie's lap. "Relax, Ronnie. Biff is telling you he loves the ad."

"Yeah, Ronnie. Yeah," enthused Biff. "That bed is a killer. The secret of selling insurance is FEAR. And that bed of yours just scares the hell out of me."

I got up to leave, but Biff, a big smile on his face, waved me back into my seat.

"Ronnie, that is great work. We're going to sell millions! And did I ever tell you about the time I was playing linebacker for the Colts when Cleveland's Jim Brown crashed through a hole in the line and came straight at me and all I could see was big white eyes and ........"

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