Funeral Directing
Eight Thoughts on my HATE / LIKE Relationship with Corporate Run Funeral Homes
If you aren’t aware of the corporate monsters in the funeral business, let me introduce you to Service Corporation International (SCI, also known as “Dignity” funeral homes and cemeteries). SCI is “based in Houston and publicly traded on the New York Stock Exchange (NYX), it operates more than 1,800 funeral homes and cemeteries in the U.S. and Canada. It has 20,000 employees and a market capitalization of $4 billion” (Paul M. Barrett). SCI is in a ongoing exchange with the Federal Trade Commision in an attempt to aquire Stewart Enterprises, the second largest funeral corporation; a deal that would effectively give SCI an additional 400 locations, and — what many argue — a violation of federal antitrust laws.
Just to be clear, I — like most independent funeral directors — don’t like corporate run funeral homes. I think they’re bad for consumers and they hurt the already injured public perception of the funeral industry by perpetuating the money-hungry mortician stereotype.
But, I want to be fair in my treatment of corporate run funeral homes. Here are four reasons I hate them and four reasons I like them.
FOUR REASONS I LIKE THEM:
One. New blood in the business
One of the greatest benefits that comes out of Corporate Funeral Homes is that they give first generation funeral directors an opportunity to enter and shine in the funeral industry. If you’re entering the funeral industry, corporate is a great place to find a job in an otherwise difficult market of family businesses that tend to only hire from within.
I know that many of you reading this post right now work at corporate funeral homes and I just want to say that the funeral industry needs you. You bring fresh perspective, hard work and heart to this trade. Perhaps the greatest testimony to your ability and talents is this: theoretically, a corporately run funeral home shouldn’t work. A “machine” shouldn’t be able to serve people in their most human experience. But, it does — to a degree — work. And the only reason it works is because the saving grace of corporate funeral homes is because of YOUR dedication.
Two. Pay.
Many say that corporate tends to pay their employees better than independent funeral homes.
Three. The Hours.
Independent funeral homes aren’t always managed well. For about seven years of my life, I was on call 24/7 except for two days out of the month. That’s right. I got two days off a month. There were times when I’d work 21 days straight, and I was on call for 24 hours of each of those days. No time for a personal life. No time for a vacation.
Corporate tends to be better run, having shifts and more days off for the staff.
Four. Vertical Movement.
Climbing the management ladder at an independent funeral home is difficult if not impossible. Like working for any family run business, the children of the owners always take precedence. You can work at a funeral home for 50 years and you’re still not able to earn the job that the owner’s 25 year old son is given. It sucks. And corporate is a great place to reward those who work the hardest.
FOUR REASONS I HATE THEM:
One. Some businesses are meant to be small.
Our family has served the Parkesburg and surrounding communities for over 150 years. We know our people. We grew up here. We shop here. We go to church here. If we did something wrong, it’d be in the newspaper the day before we did it. Our roots go deep. Heck, we’re related to half the local population.
If you take that heritage away and the interconnectedness we share with this community, you take away a key part in our ability to serve Parkesburg. Some businesses are meant to be small. Some businesses are meant to be local. Like a herd of cows trouncing through a garden, corporate funeral homes in a small community can end up doing more harm than good.
Two. Macro over micro economies
Most corporate funeral homes have some degree of price standardization. This is all well and good, except with those price standards have been determined in wealthier areas of the country. When a corporate funeral home focuses on macro economies you have big city price setting that gauges the small towns.
Three. Money over service.
Back in 1993, Robert Waltrip (Chairman of the Board of Service Corporation International [SCI], which owns more than 2,100 locations) stated that people who don’t buy his company’s stock “just don’t like money.” When you go corporate, money and satisfying your stock holders are your bottom-line.
This monetary bottom-line is what produces the upselling, the “salesman” mentality and the overpriced merchandise. And this – this corporate need to satisfy the stock holder – perpetuates the public opinion that funeral directors are just a bunch of greedy sticklers.
“An SCI funeral cost 42 percent more than a funeral at an independently owned funeral home.”
And this one, “Seventy-three of the priciest 100 (funeral homes) in the U.S. are owned by SCI.” (VIA Paul M. Barrett)
That’s a problem.
Four. The Insatiable Corporate Hunger to GROW
Death is one of the must human experiences. And it needs to be served with the most of human of professions. Corporate, by definition, is a non human entity. It’s very unhuman … robotic … machanical … and alien. The mixing of a corporate entity and the most human of experiences is as dangerous as unleashing Godzilla into a city. The only saving grace — as I mentioned previously — is that these funeral home monsters hire wonderful people. And if it wasn’t for these people, the damage would be even worse.
Our funeral home is content with who we are. We have no desire to buy another location; nor do we want to put our competitors out of business. We make a respectful and honest living and we’re happy with it.
Corporate, though, is — like a monster — never happy. There’s always a desire to grow … always a desire to buy up another family owned funeral home. Think Wal-Mart. Sometimes growth – especially the growth of a monster – is a bad thing.
10 Ways Funeral Directors Cope with the Stress of Death
Me and my son on a hike.
Here’s 10 coping methods I’ve seen funeral directors use.
The first five are coping methods that are negative techniques.
The last five are positive coping methods. One or more of these methods MUST be used if a person is to stay in this profession AND maintain a healthy personal and family life.
NEGATIVE COPING METHODS
One. Displacement.
Funeral service is a business that is both uncontrollable and unpredictable. Since funeral directors can’t control death and death’s schedule, we attempt to control those things and/or people that we DO have power over. We too often take out our frustrations, fears and anger on those closest to us.
Two. Attack.
And we often displace those emotions on those closest to us with some kind of aggression. In an attempt to cope and find a sense of control in our uncontrolled and unpredictable world, we will often emotionally and verbally manipulate and control our family, co-workers, employees, associates and those closest to us, making us seem nearly bi-polar as we treat the grieving families that we serve with love and support and yet treat our staff and family with all the emotional turmoil that we’re feeling inside.
Three. Emotional Suppression.
We are paid to be the stable minds in the midst of unstable souls. We withhold and withhold and withhold and then … then the floodgates open, turning our normally stable personality into a blithering, sobbing mess, or creating a monster of seething anger and rage. During different occasions, I have become both the mess and the monster. The difficulty is only compounded by the fact that you just cannot make your spouse or best friend understand how raising the carotid artery of a nine-month old infant disturbs your mind.
Four. Self-harm.
We cope with alcohol. I know a number who attempt to waste their troubles away with a bottle.
Substance abuse.
Sexual callousness. The sexual philandering that occurred in Six Feet Under was not just for higher TV ratings.
Five. Trivializing.
Compassion fatigue happens to all of us in funeral service. If we can’t bounce back from the fatigue, we begin a journey down the road to callousness. Once calloused, we tell ourselves that “death isn’t as bad as ‘these people’ are making it seem.” Once we trivialize the grief and death we see, we can easily justify charging the hell out of the families we serve.
POSITIVE COPING METHODS
Six. Avoidance.
If this business is wrecking your life and the lives of those around you, then salvage what you have left and quit this business. Quitting doesn’t make you a failure. Quitting doesn’t make you weak. You know more than anyone that you only have one life to life. Live it to its fullest by doing something that breathes life into your soul.
Seven. Altruism.
Learn to love serving others. Probably the best means to cope with the funeral business is found in the people we serve. Love them intentionally and don’t be afraid to find joy in meeting their needs. Don’t be afraid to hear their stories and become apart of their family.
Eight. Problem-solve.
Don’t be passive with the burdens you carry. Actively attempt to find positive ways to deal with your burden. Exercise. Eat better. Take a vacation. Go out with your friends. If you can’t shed your burdens on your own, seek counseling. Find a psychologist. Find a psychiatrist. Talk out your problems with someone wiser than you.
Nine. Spiritual Community and Personal Growth.
Using religion as an opiate to ignore reality is something I speak AGAINST on a regular basis. Instead, seek a community where there’s faith authenticity. Find people who can encourage you with their love and support as you worship together and ponder the mysteries and truths of a better world.
Ten. Benefit-finding.
Emerson said, “When it is darkest men see the stars.” We try our best to deny the darkness of death; we consciously and unconsciously build our immortality projects, hoping that we can live immortally through them.
And then death. Weeping. Our projects come tumbling down. And it’s in those ashes, in the pain, in the grief, through the tears, we see beauty in the darkness. This is a perspective that funeral directors are privy to view on a constant basis. And, in many cases, the darkness can be beautiful.
Drinking in the Stories (What It Means to Be a Funeral Director)
I work with both my dad and my grandfather. When I first started at the funeral home as a young, eager 16 year old, I told my Pop-pop, while we cleaned the storm windows with generic Windex, “I want to gain as much wisdom from you as I can.” He shot back, surprisingly, by telling me, “Don’t learn from me. I don’t have any wisdom.” Thankfully, I’ve disobeyed his imperative. Over the past 15 years, I’ve watched, studied, listened to and imbibed his trade; I’ve even learned to be a damn fine window cleaner (wipe the smudges off in a circular motion).
Between my dad and my grandfather, they have 141 years invested into the Parkesburg community. My grandfather was born in the second floor of the funeral home; they both went to school here, grew up in Parkesburg dirt and someday their bodies will return to its soil. They’ve cried with this community, buried this community’s dead and served this community through their involvement with the Parkesburg Fire Co., the volunteer ambulance crew, various civic organizations and church groups. They’ve created an extended “family” larger than the geographical boundaries of Parkesburg proper.
My Dad, my Grandfather, my son Jeremiah and me.
When someone dies and their family calls us, it’s often the case that we’ve buried multiple generations of their family. Some of them remember my great grandfather (God rest his soul), some of them went to school with my dad; others were neighbors to my Pop-pop on Third Ave. The connections are varied, but all relationships – as often happens in a small community of 3,600 – are strong.
And so, when somebody comes into the funeral home and there are a couple minutes of spare time, the stories flow. Just today, Denny Hart stopped by the funeral home to pick up his mother’s death certificates. Denny’s had a rough year: his brother-in-law, cousin and now his mother have all passed from cancer. Somehow my dad meandered the conversation to Denny’s dad “Sal”, and as Denny and my Dad traded stories about Sal Hart, their stories finally connected (like most stories at the funeral home) in the story of Sal’s death. Sal was killed in a tragic auto accident the day after Christmas when Denny, now 41, was 9 years old. Denny remembers that night … the last words from his dad … “I love you, Denny” … the phone call from the police … the hysteria of his mother.
I, a fresh 32 years old, don’t have much to add to this conversation. I don’t remember Sal. Unlike my Dad, I’m still finding my niche in Parkesburg, content to be an understudy in a six-generation linage of funeral directors.
But I drink in these stories. I listen attentively as my grandfather swaps (sometimes tall) tales with his buddies; as my dad opens old chapters of his life. I read those chapters; I study those chapters.
I drink in the narratives of Parkesburg until they become a part of my blood; until the stories flow into my heart and are pumped through my arteries and veins, circulating through the entirety of my being. I drink in the stories so that this community becomes married to me and I to it. Funeral directors, after all, don’t just fulfill a need within our community, we – in many ways – are entrusted with our community’s soul. And if there’s anything I’ve learned from my dad and my grandfather, it’s that I can best serve my community when it becomes a part of me.
The Exhaustion of Death…
Today’s guest post is written by funeral professional and blogger Jeff Harbeson:
I have seen it in the eyes of family upon my arrival for the removal/transfer of their deceased loved one. Exhaustion, sadness, disbelief that death has arrived for the person they cared for and loved. Many of us in the funeral profession have made home removals to see the look and feel the tone of those that have given so much of their lives over the recent past. For the next 48 to 72 hours, these saints must muster even more energy for the funeral activities that will take place.
I have been part of and talked with many that shared their experiences with the exhaustive “death watch” which may last months. In their wonderful mission of making the transition from life to death as comforting as possible, I also know that hospice and senior care workers now must move to their next assignment, exhausted as well.
Similar to bringing a newborn home, caring for a dying loved one uproots routines. Sleep, work, personal time, meals, care visits, laundry, etc. all change. In most cases, babies at some point get settled and find a routine similar to our own, but the transition to death has no routine.
An example and the inspiration of this post is one of our associates lost his father just last night. Several weeks ago we were made aware that hospice care determined that the death of his father was imminent, which meant that as his funeral home family we are on standby to assist and serve. The agonizing weeks, days and hours that followed took an emotional toll on their family. It’s interesting that at our funeral home we have been notified by family that life sustaining procedures have been stopped on their loved one, and death may occur at any time. I have personal knowledge of people surviving without life support and living for over a month…incredible testimony to our human design.
For some, plans for the funeral have been made for their deceased loved one. The details of contacting others, dates, times and locations are pretty much all that has not been secured. For others, even more exhaustive days are ahead. Funeral decisions made under the cloud of grief coupled with exhaustion only exasperate what is considered one of life’s most stressful events, the funeral of a loved one. On top of this, finances, frayed emotions and unresolved family issues are not unusual during funeral events.
Death is often exhausting…for those that are dying, for family that is tending and caring for the dying, for those that make the transition more comfortable from life to death, and for those that serve the families in their darkest of days. I have witnessed, deal with and ultimately know that I too will personally experience exhausting death of a loved one. My words are from my heart to encourage all of us to continue to have empathy, provide comfort and serve those that are experiencing exhaustive death. At some point, we’ll want to be served as we serve.
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Jeff Harbeson, Founder & CEO of The Harbeson Group www.theharbesongroup.com brings his innovative development of partnerships, products and services in the funeral industry to The Funeral Commander www.thefuneralcommander.com blog. Jeff’s unique experience as a military officer, funeral home developer/owner/partner, funeral industry entrepreneur, and B2B funeral industry product/service provider offers perspectives from his various viewpoints. Working alongside, meeting and collaborating with funeral industry professionals, The Funeral Commander is an excellent platform to profile superlatives, innovation, challenging issues, humor and stories that matter…stories from the heart. Also follow Jeff on twitter: www.twitter.com/harbesongroup
10 Requests Funeral Homes Should NEVER Hear
The other day someone emailed me and asked, “What are some odd requests that families have asked funeral directors to perform?” Honestly, it seems like every other day we’re asked to do something “odd.” These “odd requests” are a burden that every funeral director has to bear.
And yet, there are some odd requests that are exceptional.
I asked my Confessions of a Funeral Director facebook page a similar question and here are the top ten oddest requests. If you aren’t accustomed to PG-13 topics and are grossed out by anatomy talk, before you get offended it’s probably best that you stop right here and and don’t continue reading this list which is morbid and kinda gross … but, nevertheless, part of the experience of being a funeral director.
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