At the beginning of my career my overseers used regulatory guardrails like a prison cell to isolate me and other insurance producers. And more to the fact, they had no facts as they gutted our advertising and client communication on insurance products and their related topics.
I was raised in the pre-Vatican II era of the 1950s, spending part of my childhood in a parochial institution. Structure framed my daily life, which was regulated from the time I was awakened by Sister Lucette at 6 a.m. until I went to bed promptly at 8 p.m.
My young life was formed within rules, etiquette and behavioral expectations. I never questioned authority. I actually embraced the absolutes and moral certainty of my surroundings, which later evolved into the moral compass I use for direction in my life, meaningful purpose and a tender conscience.
The rules at St. Vincent’s were clearly defined, as were the consequences of breaking them. The etiquette of the era, as a child, was silence until spoken to and the expectations of personal conduct — benefiting a young boy who claimed godliness, love of his religion and loyalty to America. I know what it’s like true blue and committed to my company. I’m as complaint as anyone could be. Breaking the rules and Catholic guilt is incompatible. So, when I review the regulatory body of compliance, it’s like reading the Bible. Knowing the terror and consequence of disobedience, I comply. I may not like it but it’s the world we live in.