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Subject: Naughty Aflac Agent

by Gautham Jayaraj

Dear Zach,

I’m writing this email to you as a friendly reminder to quack off. I’m tired of your bullquack. I’m not sure if you remember, (I sure as heck do), but you visited my auto store ten times already despite me telling you, “I don’t want Aflac.” I’m going to detail every approach you made to my business to knock some sense into you.

The first time you dropped by the auto store, I was at the front desk stimulating my tongue with jumbo Cheetos while scrolling Craigslist during lunch break. You came through the door wearing a crusty red polo and the amount of dandruff on you could be used to clone an entirely new person. You said:

“Quackity quack, you want some Aflac?”

Everyone knows what Aflac is. We’ve all seen the insurance commercials with the Aflac duck mascot, so I thought you were trying to be quirky with the “quackity quack.” I thought about it for less than a millisecond and told you, “I already have Geico.”

You continued to clarify what Aflac was and started asking questions about how the business was during COVID. You kept at it until I finally said, “We’re not interested.” You replied with, “Well, have a nice day.” I thought that was the end of it.


A week later, you came by again. This time you made sure to emphasize that you were just following up. Still, you provided an interesting piece of info: “Offering Aflac supplemental insurance can help retain your employees.”

I told you an important fact. “I’m the only employee here.” “Well, you should get some more. I heard they’re good for business.” Your butt cheeks erupted on your way out and you took a complimentary mint. It was my last one. If you’re taking the last complementary item, at least don’t contaminate my breathing room trying to do it.

The coming week, I was lying underneath my customer’s car in the garage. I was making some repairs, but that sure as hell didn’t stop you from coming in anyway. This time you brought a Kroger bag with something inside.

You came through the open garage and crouched near me. I then rolled out, but my legs were still underneath the car. The front portion of the vehicle was being held up with a jack lift. You glared at me with that man bun again, looking like my old elementary school librarian. You then gave me that idiotic smile, and I saw some mac and cheese in-between those scarred teeth. I feel bad for the animals that died only to end up being eaten by you.

You pulled the jack lift away, and the whole front part of the vehicle landed on top of my legs.

You whispered in my ears while I screamed and scrambled to get my legs out. “You should have gotten an accident policy...have fun trying to save 15% percent or more on insurance.” You dropped the contents of the bag right on top of my face. It was a rubber duck.

You called 911 for me, the only decent thing you’ve done, and they took me to the hospital while the rubber duck stared at me. For some reason, I held onto it like it was my last hope. The medics tried to pull it away, but I just couldn’t let go. When I laid on my hospital bed after my condition stabilized, the nurse walked in with what I thought was an urgent message.

I asked. “Are my legs going to be ok, doc?”


“Oh...” Damn you Aflac Zach.

“There’s a guest waiting for you, Mr. Scott.”

I expected my ex-wife to show up. We argued over each other’s cereal choices for years, but it seemed like she actually cared for once to show up. But no, it was just you.

You came by with that same crusty, red polo and that same kinder joy smile. You had a Kroger bag again, but something a little bigger was lying inside. It was a duck. A real one. You pulled it out and set it near my food tray. It flapped its wings as if it was trying to fly away.

It wasn’t even the white one, dammit! It was just some ugly brown one. If you’re going to give me a live animal, at least make it match the quackin’ mascot!

I tried pushing it away, but the little bastard started quacking on me. You started snarling at it and muttered, “Dammit, I wanted it to say Aflac!” You picked up the duck and snapped its neck.

You then handed it to the nurse. “Nurse, give this to the kitchen. Let my client here have a gourmet meal.” Damn you, Aflac Zach. I hope this email is enough to remind you to leave me alone. I’m prepared for more of your shenanigans though.

Worst regards,


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