And on the 8th day God looked down on his planned paradise and said, “I need a caretaker for a lost soul.!” So, God made a Sardi God said I need somebody to get up before dawn and do 50 push-ups and feed the kittens cute and work most of all of the day in the field known as dog eat dog, do another 50 push-ups, snack on some beef jerky and then go to phones and convince folks who don’t think about insurance why they may want to just in case that ‘Reason’ they buy insurance happens. So, God made a Sardi. I need somebody with strong arms. Strong enough to hold the phone, hear the dissent, yet gentle enough to recognize it and make sure they won’t have to worry when that ‘One time’ happens. Somebody who focuses less on price and more on value, stands by the Fortune 100 Company he works for but stands more because they can count on him if ‘Fortune 100’ gives them grief … because Sardi strives for relief. So, God made a Sardi. God said, “I need somebody that can … Oh hell, the poem was already written and I didn’t write it. Just refer me anyone who needs insurance and I won’t bother you with God. God still isn’t onboard with “liking” my page. Prick.
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