Page 19 of Game Plan

Me: You’re so boring.

Finn: That’s funny. I’ve never heard you say that before.

Me: You could prove me wrong.

Finn: That’s exactly what I’m trying to do. Have a good day, friend.

I don’t dignify that with an answer.

CHAPTER

SIX

Poppy

“The Cinos Agency has been with us for twenty years,” Joshua says, folding his hands on the conference room table. “They love us and don’t want to leave. But when they’re getting quoted fifty thousand dollars less from Hambrill National, how can we expect them to stay?”

The room falls silent. The question is rhetorical, and it’s one we’ve asked ourselves several times this afternoon about a list of accounts, but that doesn’t mean it’s any easier to answer.

Everyone hates these meetings but me. I love them. Looking at the data, figuring out how to retain accounts and acquire new business—and coming up with a plan to slaughter the goals we have to hit to stay profitable—is such a rush. There’s no feeling like walking out of a meeting knowing that everyone around you is impressed by your problem-solving skills and values your opinion.

If only I could solve my personal problems.

“Let’s look at it,” I say, opening a file on my laptop. “Where do we need to be to retain Cinos?”

“We don’t know,” Joshua says. “They would only say that we need to come to the table with our best number.”

“How many claims have they had?” Peter, the vice president of finance and actuary, rubs his temple.

I take a quick sip of cold coffee, scanning the file. “Three, none of which were significant.” I turn to my assistant, Kelly. “What is their financial status?”

“Great,” she says. “Their account demonstrates solid financial strength.”

“Then let’s put them in our best rating tier,” I say, setting the cup down. “It’ll still be profitable despite the twenty percent credit right away. I mean, we are going to lose fifty thousand dollars in premium retention, so acquisitions will have to make up for that. But Cinos is such a great client, and their risk factor is practically nonexistent.”

Peter nods. “I agree. Joshua?”

“If Poppy is okay with adding another fifty grand to her new business goal, then I’m in.”

“Well, I don’t love it,” I say, mentally cursing the soft market. “But you know me. I never fail.”

“That’s why we love you, Poppy.” Peter smiles. “If our pricing is not within the marketplace, we should consider R&D to file for better rates.”

“I’ve added it to the list,” Walter says.

Peter concludes the meeting, and we all shuffle out the door. Once I’m in my office, I promptly close the door and collapse into my chair.

Numbers and statistics roll through my brain. Production goals, drop rates, and retention figures mingle together in a fog. I love it, but it is exhausting sometimes.

“Oof,” I mumble, peeking at the clock. At least the day is nearly over.

I begin gathering my things when my phone rings with an unfamiliar number. My first thought is to let it go to voicemail, but something tells me to answer it.

“Hello,” I say, withholding a sigh.

“Hello. This is Ann Walsh, calling for Poppy Quinn. Is she available?”

I flinch. “Yes, this is Poppy.”