‘I am the family’s main source of income. What if that income were to disappear? What if I were to disappear?’ (Photo: Getty Images/Tina Tiller)
‘I am the family’s main source of income. What if that income were to disappear? What if I were to disappear?’ (Photo: Getty Images/Tina Tiller)

Partnersabout 11 hours ago

The one thing I’d never given my kids

‘I am the family’s main source of income. What if that income were to disappear? What if I were to disappear?’ (Photo: Getty Images/Tina Tiller)
‘I am the family’s main source of income. What if that income were to disappear? What if I were to disappear?’ (Photo: Getty Images/Tina Tiller)

Nothing is set in stone, but Greg Bruce wonders if he can make his family’s future just a little more secure.

The number is bearing down on me. I cannot ignore it because my kids are always reminding me. In a few months I will turn 50.

It sits there, squat and heavy, reminding me that at some point, without me even realising, I ceased to be someone who was waiting for life to happen, and became someone to whom life had mostly happened.

Don’t get me wrong. I’m not upset. I’m not even worried. In fact, I’m excited that my own years of striving and desperation are largely behind me and now, having passed the burning torch of life’s hopes and dreams to my kids, I can focus on helping them keep it alive.

I am a good parent, I think. I have given my kids love, endless transport to extra-curricular activities, a warm, dry, healthy place to live and a safe base to return to at the end of each day. I’ve tried to give them all the things they’ll need if they are to become whatever they are to become.

But, in the 13 years since my first child was born, there has been something nagging at me. I am the family’s main source of income. What if that income were to disappear? What if I were to disappear?

I am here to make a confession. I am a man of a certain age who does not have life insurance. As someone who has strived to give my kids everything else, it bugs me that I have failed to give them the security of knowing that, if something happened to me, they’d be OK.

It gives me no comfort to know I am far from alone. Ben Rose, AA’s head of financial services, says that approximately 60% of New Zealanders don’t have life insurance; a rate that places it near the bottom of all OECD countries. But having children is one of the big life events that gets people thinking about it. “Because suddenly there are people who rely on them and on the money that they bring in, so that’s a big trigger,” he says. “If it’s not that, then it will be when people buy their first house and take out a mortgage and they look at the number of zeros on the statement and think, ‘If something happens to me, how would I pay that?'”

Why are we so life insurance-avoidant? Rose says there are a few factors at play, including a “she’ll be right” attitude and the misconception that getting insured is hard, confusing and expensive.

Expensive? No. Rose says that for someone in their 40s who has never been a smoker, the cost of $500,000 of life insurance is about the same as a coffee a week.

Hard and confusing? Again, Rose says no, but I haven’t been a journalist for two decades to accept people’s claims at face value. I decided to put it to the test. I took on that most painful of tasks – dialling a call centre.

The phone number – AA Life – was the first thing to come up on Google. My call was answered by an automated voice: press 1 for X, 2 for Y etc. I pressed 2 and prepared for more options, more button pushing, more menus and what I assumed would be my eventual arrival at another message telling me that due to higher than expected call volumes I could expect to be on the line more or less forever.

But there were no more options and no long wait. There was no wait at all. Instead, immediately after my single button push, I was connected to a person – a real live person.

I told her I was wanting to investigate life insurance, that I was 49 and had never had it. “Yes, sure,” she said. “I can do a quote for you.” She told me it would take roughly 15 minutes. She asked if I had the time available.

I told her I did. So far, not very confusing. She outlined for me two broad categories: cover for when you suffer illness or injury and remain alive (income protection cover, serious illness cover and cancer care cover)  and cover for end of life (life cover, accidental death cover, and third-party funeral cover).

I asked for information on life and serious illness cover, but decided against serious illness cover for now – baby steps for the 49-year-old.

She talked me through life cover. Complex? No. It took her under two minutes to tell me what it offered: A tax free lump sum is paid out if you die or are diagnosed with a terminal illness and given less than 12 months to live. There can be up to 10 beneficiaries. There’s no expiry age, cover increases each year and you can take premium holidays if you become unemployed or suffer financial hardship. No medical exams or reports are required.

She asked me how much cover I wanted. I told her. She sent me the quote while we were still on the phone. After we disconnected, I was able to click on it and was taken to a page where I could adjust the amount of cover and see instantly updated premiums.

From start to finish, it had taken almost exactly 15 minutes. It was not expensive, hard or confusing. It couldn’t have been easier. All I had to do was click. Now, when my kids lavish me with gifts for my 50th, I can give them one in return.