I'm in the wrong business

For my next career, I'm going to be a funeral director.

This shimmering glimpse into my professional future came during my collision course with the industry due to my father in law's recent passing.

Yeah, there are right ways to do this, and then there are wrong ways. But no matter how you do it, this whole funeral biz is a license to print money.

Talk about having people by the short and curlies. What other options do they have, really? It's their loved one, someone they cared about deeply, and they've barely begun to scratch the surface of the grief they'll experience at their loss. They think back to their wishes, to all of the conversations they'd had or thought they remembered and with that, they cobble together the minutia of their husband's/father's final rite of passage.

All for the low low discount price of $6,000 and change. Ballpark of course...that's without flowers or other personal touches. Or a real casket - this is just the rental package *shudder*. But fret not - it includes a limo to come to your home and pick you up. Gee, that makes me feel swell.

And it would be one thing if you had to pay for all this, and were fortunate enough to have a really wonderful person taking care of your loved one, guiding you through the minefield that is saying goodbye. I swear, there's more paperwork involved in death than anything else on earth. How sad is that? So many forms, details, sign here's, geez. And heaven forbid you miss something, 'cause it'll certainly come back to bite you in the ass later on, you just feel that.

We weren't that lucky. We ended up with a dick.

Not to go into all the sordid details, but really, this guy should honestly think some more about what he wants to do with his life. You really do have to be a compassionate people person who can walk grieving people through one of the toughest times of their lives. It should be your sole mission during your work day to make the process as painless as possible for everyone involved - or else get the fuck out of this business.

It's really easy to be angry (that five stages of grieving and all that) at a time like this, and lemme tell you, nothing will incur my wrath faster than some stupid asshole that tells you, right after he assumes out loud that no one wants coffee, that our appointment was at a really inconvenient time so no, Hubs' father isn't ready for viewing yet and we'll have to come back and do that later.

Wow, the I know the cockles of my heart are ablaze, thanks to this guy. NOT.

We were all getting frustrated as the meeting went on, and the second he left the room to check on something we all turned to each other and agreed - he was a bona fide dick. Almost a big enough dick to make us change funeral homes.

So in my next professional career, I'm gonna be a funeral director. Having looked at the price list I know I'd make a very reasonable living, and as god is my witness I would go out of my way to ensure that no other family felt the way we did while sitting in that tiny room today. 'Cause dealing with the death of a loved one is hard enough without having to deal with a dick who can't even spell the word junior properly.

I wish I was kidding.

And that's your daily dash. How's your diva doin'?