Shelly Kurtz ‘Claims’ to Act

Make no mistake. Shelly Kurtz, a phenomenally talented veteran New York trained actor, foolishly not under the radar of the Hollywood big shots, ain’t no medical ‘claim collector’ as I erroneously labeled him during our interview. His day job, which all actors need to pay the bills ‘unless you get really lucky’, is an administrative clerk who makes medical ‘claim settlements’ and he’s hellish good at it.

“What’s the difference between ‘claim collector’ and ‘claim settlements’?” I asked, after he emphatically corrected me for the third time.
“I don’t like the word, collector,” he said with his thick Bronx accent. “I try to settle claims. I really try. A claim collector sounds like a bone breaker kind of guy that’s going to go over to some older lady and say: Can you raise your dress a little so I can bust your knees cause I want my money.”

After seeing Kurtz play the role of a Jewish barber to the Italian mob in Brooklyn USA, a role he was destined to play and that LA Weekly critiqued as ‘impressive’, his brief impersonation of a ‘tough’ guy gave him a moment to play a role that he doesn’t often get cast as. While his repertoire of work is eclectic, Kurtz finds the heart, ‘the genuine humanity’ in every character, which he infuses into his temporary ‘nine year’ day job. Let’s put it this way, if you’re the doctor who hired Kurtz to get your money, you’re in good hands.  His strategy works, most of the time, because he puts 100% effort into his role while simultaneously empathizes with the patient.  Kurtz said, “If you get a sense that they’re being genuine, that they care, then I work with them.” And, if you’re the patient receiving the call from Kurtz, well, you’re a lucky guy or gal. You may get a handwritten note congratulating you on your new job, or a Yiddish joke, all with no extra charge. In fact, you may even end up being friends with the guy.

Born in the Bronx and raised in Jersey, Kurtz was a ‘Yeshiva boy’, raised as an Orthodox Jew, although his Irish features prevent him from being cast as an extra in a Jewish wedding. While eating a pastrami sandwich at Canters Deli, Kurtz said, “My job is very ironic. My parents wanted me to be a doctor, well, this was about as close as I could get.” He continued, “this Orthodox Jew has no money, never learned how to make money, but is now spending his life collecting money for a doctor whose not only not Orthodox, but he’s not even Jewish!”  He laughed, “I find that very ironic. At least my parents can say, ‘he works at a doctor’s office.’”

While Kurtz is good at what he does, he’s not comfortable with it.  He believes everyone should have universal health care. “People should not have to pay to stay alive. The problem is,” he explained, “doctors want to make as much as they can, the insurance companies want to pay as little as they can, the lawyers want to make as much as they can, and the patient just wants to get better!” As an afterthought, he added, “and I just want to be in movies.”

So, how does Kurtz get the money? As he added more mustard to the Pastrami, he said, “I tell my clients, ‘if you can’t pay it all at once, you can pay half, and if you can’t pay half, you can pay a quarter’. For the most part, he works with people. But on occasion, he does get an uncompromising patient and then Kurtz plays hard ball.  “If the customer is a jerk, I go after them,” he said.

Kurtz called a patient who had received the check from her insurance company, which is standard method of operation for a non-participating provider.  However, the patient had signed ‘an assignment of benefits’ which means the insurance company was supposed to send the check to the doctor, although that rarely happens. When the insurance company was called, they said, “it’s not our policy to accept assignment of benefits and we’re sending the check to the patient. Let the patient deal with the doctor. Our contract is between us and the patient, not between us and the doctor.”

Well, the patient didn’t want to pay.

Kurtz tried to reason with her. “You got the service. You have to pay. You signed what’s called an assignment of benefits and you also have to pay us whatever your insurance company doesn’t cover.”
The patient belligerently said, “so sue me. I’m not gonna pay.”
“So after a few calls, what am I going to do?” Kurtz asked with his hands up in the air. “So I called her again and said, ‘all right, we’re going to cancel your payment. You don’t have to pay us anymore, but just understand that the next time you come in for surgery…. its gonna hurt!!!’”

Kurtz rolled into another story involving a Medicare case that wouldn’t pay for one of the patient’s services. “They said she was in the country illegally at the time so I called her and she said it was a misunderstanding. I asked her to call Medicare to fix the problem, but she didn't want to call. She didn’t care and she refused to pay! I asked her: Do you think it is right that you accept services from us when you know that there is a problem getting paid?! You’re just not gonna pay us?! You’re stealing from us! It’s a chargeable offense! It’s theft of services!”  Kurtz took a breath, before continuing. “She was on Medicare and Medicaid – the woman had no money. So we wrote it off. What’s the point of sending someone to collection?! Collection almost never collects money and if you take them to court and win the case, you still don’t collect the money. The court doesn’t make them pay!” He exclaimed emotionally.  “I used to go to court, looking like a lawyer, but the clients never showed up. They don’t care!”

In another instance, the outcome was more positive.  A couple cashed their insurance check for food. They had no money and had been laid off for a year from the same company. The bill was $2200. Kurtz believed them when they said they would pay him back once they got a job again. He sent notes saying, ‘I hope things are getting better for you.’ A year and a half later, they paid him in installments and sent him a thank you letter.

“Don’t even get me started on insurance companies,” he warned me, as he finished his mushroom barley soup.  “They low-ball you. We send a bill and the insurance company offers 80% of the bill for payment in thirty days, and then they still try to lowball you. Once you agree to 80%, then they try to knock off even more!”

Kurtz shared the same strong feelings for workers compensation.  He’s often forced to file liens because workers compensation doesn’t want to pay for the patient’s injuries. The patient is forced to get a lawyer and the doctors have to wait a long time, often years, before receiving, if ever, the money.

Kurtz said, “Workers compensation tries to lowball you. If you have a bill for $1500, they say we’ll pay $500 for this procedure. So on one case, I said to them, ‘excuse me, let’s say your salary was $1,000. Just pretend, I’m your boss. Are you going to be happy to accept 50% of your salary this week?' There should be a penalty. If workers compensation denies your initial claim, they should pay 100% of the claim plus penalties. The lawyer takes his fee. And the rest of it is divided between all the doctors who are owed money and the patient ends up with the remainder, if any. This whole industry is a disaster,” he emphasized.

After nine years, Kurtz has only skimmed the surface of his claim settlement stories. “How many more years do you see yourself in this position?” I asked.
He paused to ponder that question, while crunching on a pickle, before answering, deadpan, “I hope it ends tomorrow. I just want to be in the movies.”
“What is your dream role?” I asked.
“A magical, life affirming, loving odd-duck,” he said. “I just played a part like that in a movie called, The Lepi Doctor, about a doctor who magically brings butterflies back to life.”
“Were you the doctor?” I asked, with a grin.
“No, but I had the doctor’s tools,” he smiled. “I’m getting closer.”
“Shelly, I have a part for you. And, it’s a doctor and then your mother can finally say, “my son, my Yeshiva boy, is a doctor.”

Here is a link to Shelly’s film reel.

http://www.shellykurtz.com/