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Standing firm: John Devaney with his precious Mustang and, inset, the genuine windscreen complete with Ford logo
A BROKER IN CAIRNS, FAR NORTH QUEENSLAND, relates his experiences when he recently claimed against a direct insurer’s motor policy. Of course, he acted as any consumer would – sort of. Twelve months ago I had what She Who Must Be Consulted says was probably my fourth mid-life crisis. This time it resulted in the acquisition of a brand new Ford Mustang in “Grabber Blue” livery – the V8, of course. When it came to insurance I could have gone to our overworked colleague who handles all the staff’s personal insurance, but I didn’t. (The worst portfolio in a brokerage has to be a client base of your fellow insurance brokers. Surely such poor souls will be rewarded in the next life.) So I did it myself. I was very taken with one direct insurer’s product offering of a “new for old” car in the unfortunate event of a total loss, even in 10 years’ time, provided I met the qualifying conditions. Not a problem there, so having scanned the PDS I signed up. Queensland insurance brokers living and working in regional coastal towns in Far North Queensland will tell you that our portion of National Highway 1 does a pretty good imitation of a goat track, and as a result the inevitable windscreen breakage happened. So the Consulted One and I turn up at the local Windscreens O’Brien and she wisely asks, “Are these guys going to fit an original Mustang windscreen?” “Of course they are,” I harrumph. (Men having a mid-life crisis often harrumph.) 98
insuranceNEWS October/November 2018
John Devaney Contributor
I have, after all, read my PDS. And sure, while the policy says the insurer might elect to replace the windscreen with a non-genuine one, I’m supremely confident I will get the real deal as the car is only six months old. “Perhaps you better check, dear,” she says. “Nah mate,” the windscreen guy says. “We’ve only got an order for a non-genuine out of Thailand. They’re quite good.” “Does it have the Ford logo etched into the glass like this?” I point to my car’s cracked screen. He goes away to check and reports it does not. This is obviously something to discuss with the insurer. “No, I’m sorry,” the bright young thing (BYT) in claims service says, even though the on-hold message tells me that my insurer is committed to a positive customer experience. “All we are prepared to pay for is a non-genuine screen. You would have to make up the difference.” Then she utters her killer point: “It’s in your PDS.” “Actually,” I say, “your PDS says you might pay for a non-genuine windscreen. Can you tell me when you might pay for a genuine screen as opposed to when you might not?” BYT repeats her non-genuine spiel. “Perhaps,” I say, trying to be helpful, “you’d like to look up the definition of the word “might” in the dictionary?” BYT is not having a bar of this. Nor can I speak to her supervisor. “So I guess we go to dispute resolution,” I say. “Oh, you know about that? Well, yes,” she says primly, although her brain is obviously saying, “We know your type.” Baby Boomers and possibly even Gen X’ers will recall the English comedy Yes Minister, a TV show that depicted a government minister’s losing battle with public servants who were supposedly there to assist him. The internal dispute resolution process proved to be kind of like that. Sadly, not once did the insurer make comment on my original and consistent argument about their interpretation of one word they used in the policy – that one simple word “might”. It was time for larger calibre artillery – the Financial Ombudsman Service, which is referred to universally as FOS. Within 48 hours of my FOS lodgement there was a phone call from the insurer’s head office. Another customer relations department officer, let’s call her Judy. This time a commonsense conversation ensued. Judy lamented that my correct interpretation of the policy wording’s clear intention had not been understood right at the very outset. I lamented in turn that the insurer’s personnel involved in the entire internal dispute resolution process had completely failed to recognise that very fact. To them, my “dispute” was just a process to be followed and endured. At the end I was faced with paying $1000 on my claim in order to secure an “original” windscreen with a distinctive logo etched into it for a six-month-old car. And insurers object about losing their exemption to 0 unfair contract terms legislation?
