Met Life took my stress to an entirely new level

MetLife is happier than a tick on a fat dog because they are busier than a one legged cat in a sand box doing everything in their power to thwart my efforts of getting disability insurance benefits. I am more confused than a hungry baby in a topless bar as to how they can justify this humiliating and degrading treatment of a disabled person. I would rather have jumped naked off of a 12-foot step ladder into a 5-gallon bucket of porcupines than to do business with the perfect example of an evil empire called MetLife. I know sure as there is a hell and it’s not freezing over that I am not the only MetLife client madder than mosquitoes in a mannequin factory about their shady questionable business tactics. This has taken a toll on my nerves, tested what little patience I have left, raised my blood pressure, and taken my stress to an entirely new level. I just want them to pay me my disability benefits.