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THERE’S SAFETY IN NUMBERS

 Another birthday.  Time to think about death.  At my age, there is less than one chance in 500 that I will die in the next year.  Not enough for even me to worry about.  It’s just a good time to focus on death in general.  I just love to grab the latest mortality tables and compare trends.  That’s what I do.  I am an actuary.

I was lost in my work when the door opened.  I recognized the silhouette immediately.  Five feet, three inches.  Brown hair that curls whenever it rains.  A smile that would light up the display on a calculator.  But that wasn’t what got me.  It was the way she talked about retirement programs.  A woman of actuarial fantasy.

 We had once been an item, but she left me for one of those pretty-boy actuarial firms.  I hadn’t heard from her since she asked for her data back.  I motioned to the nearest chair; the one not covered with investment magazines.  “How have you been?” I asked, hoping she had just stopped by to ask about the new IRS limitations.

 “I guess I owe you an explanation,” she said.  “It started off with just a newsletter.”

 It sounded innocent enough.  I wasn’t sure if I really wanted to know why she left me, but she went on.  “They seduced us with gifts and talk of offices in exotic locations.  At first, they were there for us.  I thought we could build a lasting relationship.  They talked about their big powerful, valuation system.”

 I could tell what was coming next.  She had a thing for number crunching.  I switched the subject.  “You didn’t just stop by to discuss old times.”

 She got to the point.  “The Retirement Board is worried that our assumptions may be too aggressive in the current environment.  I don’t know who else I can turn to.  The new actuary has given us their set of assumptions.  They don’t want to talk about them or help us work through the impact.”