D is for Dumb

And I am. About many things, I guess, but I'm finding out I'm dumb about one thing in particular. Medicare Part D.

See, TheCompanyIWorkFor is now selling Medicare Part D (heretofore known as MPD). This is, of course, the big new thing in the Medicare world. Pays for prescriptions. Kind of, anyway. Now, it's at this point that I want to say, why didn't Uncle Sam just decide to include prescriptions into a Medicare Plan, have it be optional, and leave it at that, but I can't really say that, because I know the answer. The answer is we live in a kakistocracy (see Stennie's 1-6-06 trivia entry). In other words, our dear W and his cronies saw fit to take prescription drug coverage and tell Old People it's part of Medicare, but farm it out to Big Corporations, who then farm it out to other corporations (like TheCompanyIWorkFor), thus making these corporations a buttload of money and giving said Old People a buttload of headaches.

And my head hurts too. Mine, and, I'm sure, lots of people across our great land who work for other CompaniesPeopleWorkFor. And here's why my head hurts. Because I don't understand a fucking thing about this MPD I seem to be selling like hotcakes.

See, here's a little how it all went. About mid-year of 2005, we got the word at TheCompanyIWorkFor that were were going to be selling one of the Big Corporation's MPD plans. We were going to have to be schooled in the plan, take an exam to prove we were knowledgeable enough to sell it, then Big Corporation would give us a license, and we could have at it. We heard about this constantly. Memos here, mentions at WeaselFests (TheCompanyIWorkFor meetings) there, emails every few days.

Finally, the time came for our schooling. In October. School consisted of a three-hour class via live remote television. It was two dour Big Corporation Employees going over the ins and outs of the plan. Only that's something of a lie, because it wasn't really that.

Basically, it was two hours and forty-five minutes of these dour hoo-hahs telling us the peripherals of the plan. Like, that we can't market the plan. And that we can't sell it to anyone without giving them a "presentation," which consists of our going through all the details of each type of plan (there are three), and letting the presentee decide which plan would be best for them. And that we can't sell this plan to someone who doesn't, at the end of the presentation, understand all the details and which plan would be right for them. And that the presentee needs to bring a list of prescriptions he or she takes so we can look them all up on the formulary (fancy name for a "drug list") to see if this person's drugs are even going to be covered under the plan. And that the presentee has from November 15, 2005 to May 15 2006 to sign up for the plan.

We were also told, dourly, that if an Old Person (OP) is eligible for MPD and doesn't sign up by May 15, they can't sign up again till the next calendar year, and that every year this OP waits to sign up, they incur a penalty to their MPD premium, of 1% of their premium for every year that OP was eligible that he or she didn't sign up. And that once that OP did sign up, which of course can't be till January 1 of whatever year they decide, then their coverage won't be effective till one month after that.

And they imparted upon us such nuggets that if a person is incompetent, we had still had to have them there, but with their authorized caretaker, and we had to make sure the both of them understood all the ins and outs of the plan. And that if the OP doesn't have an authorized caretaker but is just a senile dottery old coot, well, they didn't explain that, and that's a shame, because I'm sure that's going to happen to me before long.

And then - in the last fifteen minutes of this schooling, the dour faces finally started telling us how the plan actually works. They were a little like John Moschitta of the old Fed Ex commercials, talking so fast no one could understand, and then time ran out and we all went home, scratching our heads.

And at that point I wasn't that worried about it all, because I was sure with that "schooling" I'd never pass the exam and I wouldn't have to sell the damn things anyway. If in fact anyone even wanted them.

But boy, was I wrong.

First of all, I passed the exam with flying colors. Only missed one question. This is basically due to the fact that the "exam" was 20 questions long and all about the ethics and enrollment dates of the plan. In other words, those dour faces weren't there to teach us about MPD, they were there to help us pass the exam. And I was also wrong because OP are scared shitless of this whole MPD phenomenon, and the fact that even though they may take no medicine at all at this point the premium penalty makes it impossible not to sign up immediately, and so they're flocking hither and yon and into my office to sign up for a plan.

The first time someone came in to ask about the plan, I smiled, said hello, and proceeded to develop a massive case of flopsweat. I went and got one of our little presentation booklets, the one we use to make the presentation to the presentee, and hoped for the best.

And I got the best. This woman knew what she wanted, told me, and said let's fill out the enrollment form. And since I hadn't done a presentation for this particular presentee, I at least asked her what drugs she took to see if any were covered. And here's how much I knew about the plan when I sold it - I was telling her her drugs were not covered, because beside their names in the formulary, out from the side of the drug it would say "No." It was only the next day that I discovered that they actually were covered, and the "No" meant there were no limitations on how many of them an OP could get in a month's time. Hope she reads her booklet and finds this out.

After we filled out her enrollment and she left, I went back and picked up another presentation booklet. And I began to read it voraciously.

And you know what? It didn't help much.

One day last week I had what I'd feared I'd have - a client who's a very nice and sweet little old lady who understood nothing about MPD. And so I had to try and explain Big Corporation's MPD to her. Three plans, all with varying degrees of coverage. How the deductible works, and which plans pay her deductible for her. Then how she'll pay $7 for generic drugs, $30 for non-generic drugs, and $60 for non-preferred-plan non-generic drugs. And how, once her drug costs rise above $2250, she pays 100% of her drug costs until she's spent $3600 on covered drugs.

The thing is, I wasn't explaining it to her like I am to you. She would ask a question about any of the above information, and I'd say, "Well, that's..." and immediately pick up one of the five books in the presentation booklet and look up the answer. This sweet little old lady must have thought I was the biggest boob in Boobville. It was a presentation, all right. It was a presentation that would have made a grown man (especially one who works for Big Corporation) cry. She left, smiling, thanking me profusely for answering her many questions, and she had a confused look on her face that made me want to cry.

And I went and got another little presentation booklet to keep at my desk to read voraciously during my spare time. And then someone else came in.

That's the thing! People keep coming in and taking away my little presentation booklets before I get a chance to read them!

The little old lady came back in today and got a Big Corporation MPD. And she's bringing her husband back tomorrow. And the man who took my latest presentation booklet, the one I was studying, is coming back Friday.

Now, there's one thing I forgot to mention. Here we had our schooling, where 98% of the class dwelt upon making sure we gave these presentations and made sure the OP understood everything they were shopping for. And a couple of weeks ago I found out that the very same OP can go to Big Corporation's website and enroll in a plan. Whether they understand it or not. Hell, if they're living or not.

When the little old lady left my office today after we'd filled out her enrollment form, she smiled again and thanked me profusely for helping her out so much. And once she was out of the building I told the boss, "I feel just like Zero Mostel in 'The Producers.' Living off the checks of little old ladies."

Which isn't exactly true. Because see, that's another thing they stressed upon us during the two hours and forty-five minutes of that three-hour class. We get no commissions whatsoever from selling these. We're basically doing it as a "service." Yeah, a service to Big Corporation.

And so, I'm going to continue trying to learn about this MPD I'm selling that I now know just enough about to be dangerous. And hopefully I won't steer any OP the wrong way. And if I do, I figure, what's the worst that can happen? Big Corporation will revoke my license, and I won't have to sell the damn things anymore.

Which is good, because I'm running out of presentation booklets to study at my desk.

Betland's Olympic Update:
* Acrowinners, we have acrowinners. So, what about Picture Sunday. Y'all do know I'll keep Picture Sunday, right? I was just tired of it for a couple of weeks.
- Honorable Mention goes to Flipsy, with her "Displays toys and little things." Emphasis there on the "little."
- Runner-up goes to Kellie, with her "Doodles. Tree and lights. Terrific!" Thank you, thank you.
- And this week's winner is LilyG, with "Drop that annoying little timewaster." About the only thing missing from that acro is an exclamation point. I almost put one in anyway.
- Thanks to all who played!