Hartford Life & Accident Insurance Company: Fill & Download for Free

he was raised in a shack in mississippi of freed slave parents. they went on to found the hartford life-insurance company, but he ran away from home before that and lived in poverty in europe, where it was cheap to live, cause folks didn’t over eat, cause they were existentialists.one day he was walking along playing his piano when haydn heard him and invited him to write some symphonies. the rest is history.

Thanks for the A2A.Yes, absolutely. It’s something we take very seriously and before accepting a new client, all firms run a conflicts check to discover any potential issues and run them down. My background is in biglaw, and those firms are large enough that the partners may not all have met each other, let alone know who represents whom. Many times I had to go see a partner, tell them the work I wanted to bring in and talk through whether we had a conflict or not. In my world, the corporate world, most potential conflicts can be cured by informing both clients and having them sign off of it. It can be a little harder with litigation matters, where the posture is by definition adversarial between clients. For example, one of my firms had a large insurance defense practice and I wanted to bring in Hartford Life Insurance Company as a client to design a new life insurance product for them. We had to disclose every matter my insurance defense partners currently had open and have Hartford Life waive any conflict, plus agree not to take a directly adversarial matter against Hartford Life during the time my matter was open. This worked because my partners defended insurers rather than sued them.The process of discovering and dealing with potential conflicts of interest at the outset of accepting work from a client can take weeks.There were many times when one of my corporate clients had a business dispute with another corporate client of my firm’s, and in that case, we couldn’t represent either of them in that matter.

There was this boy in my class at school in 7th grade. He was short for his age. He kept to himself and never really mixed with anyone. He always ate his lunch alone on a bench seat which was on the edge of the playground just staring into space. It was like he was in his own little world and nothing mattered to him. I never saw him smile in all the time i knew him.He would get called all kinds of names that really hurt him deep down. But he never retaliated or showed how much it hurt him, which seemed to infuriate his tormentors.They were relentless. Mean. One day he stepped in front of a car outside of school and stopped in the middle of the road as if waiting for it to hit him. The driver screeched to a halt only inches away from his body. He was frozen and only moved when the driver asked if he was OK. He hung his head and walked away slowly.Nobody chose him for team sports during PE and when he was the last one left everyone called him a loser and laughed at him. He hung his head and went to the far corner of the gym and sat down hiding his face in his hands.They tormented him in the change rooms and started calling him a ‘homo, faggot and perv’. It wasn’t long before it had got around the whole school that this boy was a ‘homo’ and so everyone started calling him those terrible names.He had fruit thrown at him from behind so that he never knew who it was. It hit him in the back of his head knocking him down to the ground. With tears in his eyes he tried to stand up but they came at him again and knocked his books out of his hands making him go down again. People laughed at him. He got up, grabbed his books, and ran outside and kept running till he couldn’t run any longer. He ended up walking for 10 miles just following a road not knowing were he was going. But he didn’t care if he died that day.Still he didn’t retaliate. Or tell anyone. Or complain. The next week he wasn’t at school. Someone started a rumor that he committed suicide. Everyone laughed. Nobody called to see if he was all right. Nobody missed him. Nobody cared.What they didn’t know was that his stepdad had hurt him so badly and that he was in hospital for three days. Too sick to attend school. He never told anyone about what happened when he returned to school. When everyone saw that he was still alive, they were disappointed. And told him to go kill himself. “Do it properly this time”.He was still not well from what his stepfather did to him. When they pushed him into the lockers at school or tried to jam his head in the door, he let out a yelp. But the pain was not from what they did to him.One day after PE he was acting very strange. He stood facing everyone with his head hanging low. As if his whole world was about to come crashing down. He was trembling. There was an unusual silence in the room that scared him. It was then that everyone saw his body. Covered in black and blue welts across his back, legs and arms. He had tears falling from his eyes and was clearly ashamed of his body.The shower stung like a 1000 bees.They didn’t touch his clothes or call him names or hit him; this time they left him alone.That boy is me.I never told anybody what had happened to me. I knew that if I snitched on my stepdad it would be 100 times worse. I was 12 and as far as I knew, nobody would help me even if I asked. I was too afraid of what he would do to me. I woke up every day hoping things would change. I didn’t hold grudges and never have. It helped me get through some depressing periods while i was at school.I just wanted a normal life and to be happy.I can’t say that I have found that dream and I probably never will. But at least I am in no danger now and I deal with the consequences of my childhood as it surfaces and as an adult I can put it in its proper place.