Stay on top of all the fascinating developments at Ashton Tiffany and the wild world of risk management.

And his password is not “password2020”

Have you heard the story of None Pizza Left Beef? You can read it here. For you weirdos who are more visually oriented, the following picture sums up the story pretty well:

What got us thinking about this? Alberto Reyna, the new AT claims adjuster:

Cool cat, but an odd one. Like a Pixie-Bob.

Odd how, you say?

He likes pizza…without the sauce. That’s right, without the thing that distinguishes it from toast.

He actively hates watching movies. No, it’s not that he can take them or leave them…not that he thinks Road to Perdition is hot fish guts…not that he thinks phone junkies and dyspeptic tots have ruined the film experience…not that he once lost a filling to a theater Juju Bee. No, he just hates watching movies.

Then there’s career aspirations. Alberto grew up wanting to be…an astronaut? a firefighter? a cowboy? Nope, a lawyer. Wanted to practice law in the area of regulatory standards for printed copies of actuarial tables. We’re not making this stuff up. (Except for the thing about wanting to practice law in the area of regulatory standards for printed copies of actuarial tables.)

All in all, it’s quite a contrarian body of work. You know what Mom used to say, though: “All’s well that ends well.” And things have ended well for Alberto and AT, as we are united in support of his new role as a workers’ comp claims adjuster. Gets to do some good out there: helping the working men and women of the world, and keeping this risk management train chugging toward its destination.

Thanks, Alberto, we appreciate you (as they say in Texas).

Next up is Andre Lugo. This may or may not be his picture:

Why the ambiguity? Andre does IT security for us. In that world, share too much information and your identity is compromised. Once that happens, maybe they let you live, maybe they don’t. If they do, you might wish they hadn’t. The real bad actors will move into your flat, drink your whiskey, eat your Grape Nuts, play kissy-face with your spouse, and affectionately rub your dog’s belly ‘til Fido forgets you ever existed. Real Sixth Day stuff.

With stakes this high, we don’t want to say anything more—other than welcome, Andre.

(Correction: “Andre.”)

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