[Blog] From Delivering Potato Chips to Delivering Policies

Jack Jameson

Having squeaked through my insurance exams, I knew that I wasn’t going to excel in my new career as a Farmer’s agent on smarts alone. But I was determined that no one was going to outwork me. What I lacked in giftedness, I was going to make up for in sheer doggedness.

I started by sticking to my Frito-Lay hours—the hours I worked when I was a delivery driver. The Farmers office didn’t open until 9 a.m. but I was up and at the grocery stores I used to deliver chips to by 4 a.m. to tap into my first potential circle of business: people I already knew. I’d stand out at the back as they wheeled their inventory in, chat for a few moments if they had time and ask them about their insurance needs. From there, I’d head to the office at about 6:30 a.m. to note any follow-up actions I needed to take care of and prepare my to-do list for the day, then start my cold calls from 8 a.m.

I’d take an apple and a granola bar for lunch, so I didn’t have to leave my desk to go and get something to eat—midday was prime calling time because people were more likely to answer their phones when they were on their break. Or they might even be willing to meet in person if I could run out to where they were located. I would keep working the phones through the end of the day, and then get home in time to have dinner with the family and have some daddy time. After we had eaten and played a bit, I’d go down into the basement and spend an hour or two making more calls, often with a little one sitting on my lap.

I’ve learned that many agents hate cold calling, but I loved it from the start. Besides, I’d paid for many of these leads—their contact details came from some internet inquiry form they had filled in—and I wasn’t going to throw that money away too quickly.

I’d look for a way to make a connection before getting down to business. For example, since I lived in Wyoming, I’d ask if they were from the area and if not, find out where they were from and make a connection that way.

Hopefully, in one way or another, we’d made some sort of a connection within a few minutes, and I could pivot. “I can’t remember why I called. . . . oh yeah, you were looking for insurance, right?”

I quickly realized that Mondays and Fridays were not good days for cold-calling, Mondays because people were bummed about having to go back to work and focused on all that they had to get done, Fridays because they were tired at the end of a busy week, and looking forward to the weekend.

Some agents I knew were kind of relieved if they made a cold call and no one answered; they would write it off as a no-go. My attitude was I was going to keep calling until I got to speak with someone. I would leave a voicemail and call back, leave another voicemail and call back. I figured, I have paid for this lead, and I am going to try to work it until you tell me to get lost.

A guy did that once, only in slightly more colorful and emphatic language. I took his tone as an indicator that I should scratch him off my list! But the next day, I thought, What the heck? I’m going to call him back one more time. What’s the worst that can happen; he can double-cuss me out?

I spoke quickly when he answered my call, so he didn’t have time to interject. “Hi there, Jack Jameson. Look, I know you told me to eff off last night, which is fine, but I just wondered: did you really mean that, or were you just having a bad day?” The man chuckled. “You know, I’d had a bad day at work, and my wife was on me about something when you called,” he told me. He said he respected me for calling again, and we went on to write him a policy.

That encounter underscored for me that a “no” may just be for now, not forever. But if you aren’t persistent, if you don’t persevere, if you won’t keep at it, you will miss out on all those potential opportunities. I reminded myself that every no I got took me one call closer to my next yes.

Pretty quickly, I was achieving a 50% closing rate on internet leads—about double the usual—but there were enough setbacks to keep me from getting too confident.

Starting out, I knew that I needed every contract I could sign, no matter how small, to build up some kind of a head of steam. So, on Saturdays, I would go out to sell renter’s insurance. Now, this didn’t make much money—maybe only $10 or $12 a time—but I reckoned that enough of those would add up to something. Plus, it was keeping me busy and keeping me positive. Better to be out there knocking on doors expectantly than sitting at my desk drumming my fingers anxiously. It gave me some sense of control over my future: I wasn’t just going to sit and hope for the best; I was going to go out and try to make something happen.

I went to apartment complexes and methodically knocked on each door from 9 a.m. to 5 p.m. It turned out to be fertile ground because I discovered that around 90% of tenants had no insurance. They just assumed that their landlord covered them. A big mistake!

Then I came across a news article in the Sunday paper about a guy renting a unit in a fourplex. He left a pot of shrimp on the stove when he went out, and the resulting fire burned not only his apartment but the one next door. He had no insurance, nor did his neighbors, who then sued him for their losses. It was quite an object lesson. I cut the article out, glued it to a piece of construction paper and carried it with me as a piece of show and tell when someone answered the door. That poor guy’s experience won me a lot of business.

However, even with my Saturday efforts and working my personal connections and internet leads hard during the week, I knew I needed to expand my circles of potential business.

I realized that people like to do business with people who do business with them. So, if I ate at a restaurant, I’d ask the wait staff if the owner was in. If they were, I would say hello and introduce myself. I wouldn’t take much of their time; I’d just tell them I was in insurance and that if they were unhappy with their present situation, I’d be glad to speak with them. If they showed any interest, I would also offer to have a look at their existing policy and give them a free review. I would ask them their renewal date and make a note in my calendar. Then, a month or so ahead, I would drop by and remind them their renewal was coming up, and I could review things for them if they wanted. If someone told me their policy was at home, I might offer to swing by when I was in the area and have a look.

There were a couple of reasons for my persistence here. First, business insurance earns more significant commissions than domestic. But it also opens up other doors. When you write someone’s business insurance, you can then serve their domestic needs, which can add up when you consider life, house and auto insurance. And then there is the best return of all—the likelihood of a personal endorsement to someone else. When someone recommends “my guy”—whether that’s a doctor, a landscaper, an attorney or an insurance agent—to you, that’s a high-value connection. And referrals aren’t only more meaningful; they are also free!

I thought about the different ways people connected with others. For example, most homeowners have mortgages, so I started visiting mortgage brokerages. I’d drop off a box of donuts or some other kind of treat and leave some of my business cards for people to pass on. When I had a moment to chat, I’d observe that I knew when people were on a tight budget, homeowner’s insurance that was too pricey could break a mortgage deal. “If you’ve got someone who’s on the verge of not qualifying for a loan because their homeowner’s insurance needs to be lower, I’m not promising I can help, but I will do everything I can to make it work,” I would tell them.

One day, I was driving past a fire station on my way to the office when I decided to stop and visit. Chatting with one of the guys about what I did, he told me the city provided firefighters with life insurance coverage, but it was for only $30,000. That wasn’t going to go very far. I asked if I could bring pizza and soda one day and talk to the crews about how they might want to consider taking better care of their families in the event of a tragedy. When that presentation went well, I visited all the other fire stations in town—and then did the same thing with the police.

All of these different efforts began to pay off. I soon hit my stride. At the end of my first full year, I had earned twice what I had been making after eight years with Frito-Lay. When I sat down to review my progress with the office manager, she told me that I had already made the numbers that were required of me by the end of my second year—an unprecedented achievement. Not bad for someone with just a high school diploma. In my fourth year, I earned more in a month than in an entire year delivering chips.