I really was a Funeral Planner once. And this is what I saw.
I have appalling judgement. I talked myself into applying for a job as a funeral planner with a large and very old funeral company in Brisbane. The pay was ok and the overtime (going to pick up bodies) was fantastic. Well lo and behold I got it. First day I turn up and meet the crew. We had a rallying type meeting down in the storage area. One of the men opened up his morning paper on top of one of the coffins which was going out that day. We had a bit of a chat about footy and talked about who would be going to which funeral. These guys were ultra, ultra conservative. Later that morning I engraved a coffin plate for an old ladies coffin. The engraving machine was really old using the old metal slugs and the plate whilst looking very nice was actually plastic. I was shown the chapel and how they could play your fave tracks and do a webcast. They also showed me the various coffins. I quite liked a white one made in Grafton. They also do an economy model made of chipboard. They put a more ornate shell over it and remove the shell prior to the cremation. After lunch I sat at the computer and read through the company protocols and nodded off a few times - the afternoon sun was shining through the windows, I was employed and no one in the place was busting their arse working. I was sneaking the odd glance at the owners sister across the room. She was giving me a stiffy and I was able to give it a furtive rub through the trousers every so often. Soon enough the overseer came to me and took me on a guided tour of the coffin finishing area. They used to make their own coffins, but now imported them. A man who freaked me out totally was employed to line the coffins. He dead set got off on his job. He was a total ghoul. Even now I feel uneasy just thinking about him. He took great delight in showing me a babys coffin. Back in the office I was told I would be sitting in on a funeral planning meeting in the morning with a lady who had lost her 41 year old sister after a long illness. I was 41 at the time. I started to lose it. Strong doubts filled my head. I'd done it again. I cried on the way home in the car. Didn't sleep that night. I called the owner in the morning and said I didn't think i'd be back. He was incredulous, saying there was nothing to the job, that I was a quality person and he'd give me all the time I needed. Being a 3rd generation funeral guy, I think he was just blase. I cried again at the unemployment office - had to my benefits were jeopardised. Other interesting facts - the owner had the ringtone from that american funeral show. One of the other funeral planners was named Marion. He was a small bald man with a grey mustache. One of the less reputable funeral homes employs a big man with a shaved head which has eyes tattooed on the back. He actually attends services. Also they paid wages in cash out of a huge walk in safe.
The best thing to come out of it is I now enjoy wearing black dress shoes.
(rodgerroop, Thu 11 May 2006, 11:51, Reply)