Caleb Wilde
(218 comments, 980 posts)
Posts by Caleb Wilde
When You Should Fire Your Funeral Home
Liberace as Mr. Starker the “Casket Specialist” in “The Loved One.”
Before I tell you when you should fire your funeral home, bear with me as I describe the situation that prompted this little blog post:
I traded in my convertible for a used sedan last week. We’re thinking about kid number two, so it was time for me to grow up and get something with four doors. After doing a bunch of research, I found a well priced used car on AutoTrader that was only about an hours drive away from Parkesburg.
Even though I consider myself a well-informed car buyer, I hate the car buying experience. Mainly because I hate used car salesman. If you’re in car sales or have ever been in car sales, I’m sorry. I would probably like you in any other life context other than when you’re trying to sell me on a car. Really, I hate the pressure. I know the pressure, the double talk, the various sales tactics are coming, and I role play how I’ll respond … but when the time comes to hammer out a deal … ermahgerd.
This particular used car dealership low balled my trade-in. And I fell for it. And now, a week removed, I’ve resigned myself to losing a couple thousand dollars.
When it comes to spending money my mind sometimes gets cloudy. I continually question myself … what are my motives for buying this? Is it really worth it? Are there any smarter buying options? On and on and on until I get brain paralysis and become slightly impulsive only to suffer through a week or two of buyers remorse immediately after my purchase.
Grief and pressure have similar effects upon a person’s decision making. The clouding. The impulsiveness. Factors that both funeral directors and car salesman can all too easily take advantage of if they so desire.
In fact, grief is, in many ways, similar to alcohol inebriation when it comes to decision making. You can’t and shouldn’t make big decisions when you’re grieving. Just as some legal contracts aren’t legally binding when one of the persons involved is drunk, so I’m not really sure that a funeral contract should be entirely binding when one of the persons is suffering from severe grief.
In its original 1975 study on the unethical practices of the funeral industry, the Federal Trade Commission wrote:
Each year, millions of families are forced by the death of a relative to make one of the largest consumer purchases under severe handicaps of time pressures, emotional distress and lack of information or experience. There are few, if any industries where the ultimate consumer is so disadvantages or where his normal bargaining power is so diluted in a situation of such immediate need.
(ON A SIDE NOTE: I can’t stress enough how important it is to think about dying and death BEFORE it takes place. Write a living will, write out your will, name a power of attorney, name an executor. If you can, make “prearrangements” with a funeral home well before you die, that way your loved ones aren’t confused about what you want; nor are they having to make funeral decisions in their confused and grief stricken state of mind when you die.)
When we meet with families, we recognize this “grief confused” state and we usually give families a preface before we sell them anything, especially a casket. When we go into the casket “showroom”, we preface it with something like this, “We aren’t salesmen. We want you to make an informed decision and we won’t push you in any direction.” In fact, we try to “down-sell” caskets instead of “up-sell” them. Simply put, the expensiveness and beauty of a casket has absolutely no correlation to the amount of love you have for the deceased. If you want to buy them something nice, that’s fine, but a pine box serves the purpose equally well.
If you EVER feel pressure from a funeral home or funeral director to buy something more expensive — or something you don’t want — FIRE THEM! Seriously, just fire them. Walk out if you need to. The fact is that your mind is already clouded by grief and the last thing you need in your life is something trying to squeeze money out of you … because they will. You just experienced a death in your life. You need people who love you, NOT people who want to exploit you.
Yes, firing a funeral director at this point in the game is like walking out midway through a haircut. But it can be done and it has been done. We’ve had a couple families who have fired their funeral home and call us. Thankfully, we’ve yet to be fired, although if the day comes, we’ll be understanding.
Firing someone can be awkward. But it’s worth it. You don’t need to be exploited in your grief.
A Symbol in the Sky
You get home from a stressful day working at the funeral home. You change out of your suit and into your comfortable clothes and as soon as you sit down, your cell phone rings.
“There’s a death at such and such place.” And in your head, you’re thinking, “Gahhh! I just … took … my suit off!” It seems to happen all the time.
So you grab the suit that you so carefully hung in your closet, tighten your tie, slap your uncomfortable dress shoes back on your feet and put the drink that you just poured yourself back in the fridge.
Last week, I got home at around 4:30 on a Friday and had just put my feet up. And you guessed it. A death call.
A young woman.
Tragic.
As I drove away from the hospital, the sun set was spectacular. It changed every minute I drove, so I decided to pull out my phone, pull off the side of the snow covered road and take some photos for Instagram.
This is the unfiltered photo:
I ran it through a couple filters on Instagram, posted it and didn’t think anything of it until “casem5” commented, “Am I the only one who sees a woman with long hair in the clouds?”
And then I, too (with the help of my imagination), saw it. A woman’s profile, looking upward into the heavens.
The next day, we showed the family this photo. And of course it touched them. They had experienced pain. Grief. And immense heartache as they had watched their mother deteriorate to death. And when you see this much pain, it can feel as though the world is against you. That God himself has set his face against you.
Call me a skeptic. Call me cynical. But I don’t believe this filtered Instagram photo is a message from the deceased. Or a message from God. This isn’t Jesus toast. I do, however, see it as a symbol … a symbol of goodness … a symbol that maybe God is for us.
And I think it’s helpful to distinguish between symbols and signs.
Symbols are important in death because they can express ideas and feelings where words fall short. And this beautiful sunset was their symbol of their mothers’ peace and freedom from the pain that wrecked her young body. Symbols reach where words cannot. But, reaching for signs … looking for communication from the other side can, at times, be maddening and confusing. It’s dangerous — even neurotic — for our already grieving mind to go looking for signs from the deceased; but symbols are different … because symbols find us … they communicate what we can’t. Whether it be the cross, or a woman in the clouds, symbols help us see the heavens. And this symbol in the clouds gave this grieving family a small glimmer of hope in their hour of darkness. Symbols, like the cross, help us believe. They help us see the heaven in the midst of the hell.
Help Us, Social Media. You Are Our Only Hope.
The funeral industry is too often known for its worst practitioners. The practitioners who take financial advantage of the bereaved in their most helpless state. Those who price gouge and exploit. Those who use the dark side of the Force.
So how can you – the consumer – distinguish between the funeral homes that genuinely want to serve you and those that want to weasel their way into your wallet?
Some suggest that the distinction is as easy as corporate vs. family run, that corporate run funeral homes are the bad guys and family owned are suit wearing angels (i.e. Six Feet Under). And while it may be true that corporate tends to be more about the bottom line, the assumption that all family owned funeral homes are good is just plain FALSE. I’ve seen many family funeral directors that hide horns underneath their greased hair and will stop at nothing to “up sell” families into buying a more expensive funeral.
Years ago, Jessica Mitford with her “You may not be able to change the world, but at least you can embarrass the guilty” Jedi journalistic mantra managed to expose many a guilty funeral director. In her “American Way of Death”, Mitford wittingly embarrassed the abuses of the funeral industry in the 1960s and paved the way for the “Funeral Rule” in the early 1980s … the “Funeral Rule” that is meant “to protect consumers by requiring that they receive adequate information concerning the goods and services they may purchase from a funeral provider.”
The “Funeral Rule” externally demanded disclosure and transparency from the funeral industry. And yet, despite the “Funeral Rule” we are still seeing reports such as this:
In 2012, 23 of the 127 funeral homes, or about 18%, that the FTC visited undercover “significantly violated” the federal agency’s Funeral Rule, a 1984 law that requires funeral homes to give consumers itemized price lists, prohibits them from requiring the purchase of certain items like caskets as a condition to get other products and services, and bars aggressive selling of services not required by law, like embalming.
FOR THE SAKE OF THE CUSTOMER, HOW CAN THE GOOD, HONEST FUNERAL HOMES DISTINGUISH OURSELVES FROM THESE BAD FUNERAL HOMES?
Let’s be clear. Secrecy in this industry is the cloak for criminality. Just as the dark side feeds off emotions of anger, so the “bad” funeral directors feed off closed doors The funeral industry needed Jessica Mitford. And it’s a shame that someone had to come in from the outside to expose us.
Today, with the transparency of social media, the GOOD, honest funeral homes can disclose ourselves from the inside out. I’m not talking about a funeral home having a website. I’m talking about a funeral home having a blog, a facebook page, a twitter account, etc … a forum that invites feedback, that invites questions, criticism and praise … from you, our customers. I’m talking about voluntarily disclosing ourselves to the world. Fighting the dark side with the lightsaber of transparency.
Through the communication space afforded by the web, funeral directors can open the doors to the public. We reveal those places and practices that were previously held in secrecy. We take off the tie and let the public see the man and woman behind the suit. We create an environment where the consumer is NOT afraid to ask questions. We educate the consumer about their burial options. We explain to the consumer the laws that protect them. We set price standards. We tear down the veil of secrecy and the shroud of feigned “professionalism.”
The internet and the transparency it affords is a friend to the good funeral home. It’s an enemy for those funeral homes that have practices they’d rather hide. Simply put: If you want to hide, you stay away from opening yourself up on the web ’cause the web will eat you up with it’s questions and it’s brutal honesty. If you don’t have anything to hide, the web will (for the most part) love you. If we make transparency the industry standard, those who can’t be transparent will slowly (and sometimes suddenly) lose their business.
And that’s part of my goal at Confessions of a Funeral Director. The more I tell consumers about the industry, the more educated they become, the easier they’ll be able find us good guys. Empower the people.
And it’s those good funeral directors that need to take full advantage of social media outlets. Educate. Empower. Disclose. Accept the questions. The vulnerability. And by doing so you’ll create a group of consumers who will — on their own — be able to distinguish between the good guys and the bad guys. Secrecy is friend to the bad funeral homes. While social is friend to the good.
With transparency and social media, we can slowly set a new industry standard. And you, the consumer … the ones we want to serve … will be better off for it.
Use the force, my friends.
“The First Day of the Rest of Your Life”
Today’s guest post is written by PreetamDas Kirtana
It always seems to be assumed that if we knew, actually knew when we were going to die or if we could get in touch in a visceral way of how short our time is that we would suddenly be, if not more productive, definitely more generous, more forgiving, and more loving. There’s a dozen or so modern little refrigerator magnet adages meant, I think, to inspire. There’s the classic: “Today is the first day of the rest of your life,” which, frankly, always just made me feel exhausted every time that I heard it, not inspired.
Sometimes I’m not sure that all of the Hallmark presents-Touched by an Angel-lives miraculously transformed after near death experiences aren’t the spiritual equivalent of high fructose corn syrup; a great high and a completely malevolent diet. Another classic handicap meant to inspire, of course, is “Live each day like it’s your last.” This assumption that this knowledge of our death would suddenly compel everyone to finally feed the hungry, not cut off other drivers in traffic, and tip their server takes too much for granted I’m afraid; namely assuming our innate goodwill and integrity.
At the risk of admitting even a little bit of my humanity and a fraction of my capacity for inhumanity, I’m not totally convinced that if I Knew that this was the last day of my life that that would necessarily inspire me to act with the um, higher good in mind. Maybe I’m the only asshole here, I don’t know, but assure me that this day is the last day of my life and feeding the hungry may not even cross my mind, but eating more of whatever I want is virtually guaranteed. I would probably not only be tempted to cut off whoever I wanted to in traffic, but there’s also the chance that I’d give in to the previously only fleeting flirtation to exact revenge on someone who cut me off by just going ahead and ramming their car. Tipping the server could possibly depend not on their fine dining serving skills and not even on just how cute they were, but possibly, on how graciously they lied after I slept with them. Hey, I know; it takes a big man to admit he’s at least a good quarter pig.
All of these messages frequently appear to be predicated on the presumed present-time benefits of life after death. The thinking seems to be that if we just absolutely knew that we’re eternal beings and that we are just one flattening by a city bus away from suddenly leaving here and rocketing to wherever “there” is, that we’d shape up. We’d be like Ebeneezer Scrooge and let the spirits do it all in one night. We’d be changed people; people changed for the better.
But what if?
What if maybe there are some benefits in believing that you’re Not eternal. Maybe this is sometimes where atheists may arguably, have a perspective worth considering, as they focus so much on the present. It’s a great day-to-day, practical, relational theology, well, belief system; sorry. It’s worth considering, if at least, a true, present time, real life living out of “doing unto others”, rather than a constant focus on hell avoidance, heaven entry, and sin management, isn’t one of the better ideologies no matter where it’s lived out, in addition to The Beatitudes, of course; but clearly no one wants to really even talk about them.
Of course, I don’t think that I could personally be an atheist again as I’ve witnessed too much grace and mercy in my own life and first hand in the lives of others to believe otherwise. While my evolving answers may not ever exactly match anyone else’s theology profile, I do believe. As I told a friend last Easter who asked if I really believed in resurrection, “I do believe in resurrection, and not only because Jesus rose from the tomb, but because I left the house today; because I got out of bed today. Because I’m standing here, now, with my head up talking about resurrection is enough reason to continue to believe in resurrection.”
While atheists may deny the Source of Grace that believers proclaim, it’s undeniable that, too often, atheists may do a better job of living grace while making no profession at all. It’s worth noting that they don’t seem to eat their own so consistently and with such relish. I wonder if “faith without works is dead, what, then, are works without faith? Maybe not a ticket to Heaven City with it’s golden streets and virgins, if that’s your belief system, but it sure does make this place, this day-to-day, this day with your coworker, with your neighbor, your spouse, your children, even your ex-, a lot more pleasant. Perhaps, it could even be a mustard seed beginning for the prophesied New heaven and New earth; a return to the garden with the banquet table where confession and compassion are more important than what we profess.
But, for some of us, maybe the very real pressure of believing “This is It. Period.” is as motivational for us as the religionist’s fear of eternal hellfire is for them. Hindus and Christians, among other religious traditions, believe in some kind of life again later. Personally, I find this belief motivational. I mean I think there’s a real element of the kick in the hindquarters that I often need to go ahead and make that apology; maybe resolve that situation now since there’s the risk or guarantee, depending on your tradition, of running in to them Again! Now, I understand that forgiveness, and reconciliation, or any act of ours is not a ticket to heaven. That’s not how grace works. And I would not be treating it as a ticket to heaven, but instead I’d be trying to use it as an assurance that when we did see each other again, that we’d speak.
I admit to laughing when comedian, Daniel Tosh jokes, “It’s like when I meet a girl and she says ‘I’m not reeaaligious, I’m just spirit-chill.’ and he jokes that he would like to say, ‘ I’m not honest, but that’s really interesting.” Brutal? Maybe, but pretty funny and I think, may have a point. Goodness knows I’ve explored at least a few traditions in some depth, even becoming somewhat immersed occasionally. But, it does feel important to pick a path, if only because in following that path we smooth the path, we prepare the way. Author William Paul Young addresses the question of whether all roads lead to God by saying something to the effect of “I don’t know if all roads lead to God. I know that God will use any road to get to us.” I like that. That has been my experience: the experience of how this idea of radical grace and the God that has a furious longing for a relationship with us slowly, incrementally, steadily growing from a shocking idea to tiny moments of getting It in our real life.
Maybe there is more later, something after this;
something better, something divine even.
I hope so.
I believe so.
But just maybe, this is one more situation that isn’t an “either/or” equation.
Even if, or when “heaven”, or the afterlife, or that part of eternity is cued for us,
it doesn’t negate the fact that this exact, particular moment will not happen again,
no matter the truth of eternity.
This moment, that person,
this circumstance, this opportunity,
those words,
not again,
not ever,
not like this.
Maybe we can still “be here now”, even if, after this, we will always be somewhere relishing the “out of time” that eternity provides without regrets of being “out of time” in the moment.
No more ideas of time to be “out of”, no more ideas that grace and Love could ever be conditional.
I’ll take That heaven.
– PreetamDas Kirtana 12/17/13
