- First Priority after losing job- Finish requirements for Embalmer's License.
- Second: Beg the K's for a few more extra hours just to hold me over.
- Third: Get a job.
This couldn't have worked out any better. Sure, last week I made myself sick I was so stressed and jogging probably would have helped had I not been too exhausted from lack of sleep and a horrible loss of appetite. But within 24 hours of quitting my job of almost two years and on the verge of losing 60 embalming cases, only two autopsy cases away from getting my Embalmer's License, I found another Sponsor for my embalming provisional (though on the other side of town). And then, just the next day, I stayed at the Mortuary until 11pm and got my two needed cases! YAY! All that is left on that end is to get the paper work all together, copied, mailed, and, hoping the commission doesn't kick any cases for whatever reason, I'll get my license!
With the first priority taken care of, I then mentioned to the K's my predicament and they were more than willing to shovel more hours on top of the few I already have each week. So a daily routine of simply feeding the animals and basic horticulture (just add water), turned into a couple more hours a day of helping Suz with the house work and socializing (playing) with the new African Grey Parrot named Skolah.
When I wasn't trying to translate a dozen different beeps and rings (oven, dead smoke alarm, fax machine) that Skolah so skillfully imitated, I was driving all over Houston dropping Resumes, calling the Managers to see if they received them, and driving by dumpy, unkept Funeral Homes to see if I would ever consider working there. Luckily, I had saved a certain business card from a man I had met downtown while filing a DC. I remember him telling me he owned his own funeral home and mentioned that he would be looking for help soon. After finding his Funeral Home tucked into a pretty business park, I called him up.We met for lunch today at Olive Garden then met back at the Funeral Home for a small tour and more talking. Come to find out, he owns the funeral home and runs it all by himself and was desperately searching for someone to teach the ins and outs of the business. Guess who fits the bill?
ME!
The first thing he told me over Lunch was something like: "I only remember people who impress me." He said that when he first ran into me downtown he was impressed with how professional and mature I was for someone so young and new into the industry. I was equally impressed with how successful his business was! I can't drop a hint as to which funeral home because much of his marketing is web based, which is the reason why his business is so progressive and strong. I kept his card for much of the same reasons as he made a point of remembering my name: because he struck me as an owner who proves the vitality of his business through his own hard work and effort.
Not even a week has passed after quitting my job, and I found a better one with MUCH better pay and a definate opportunity for advancement. Oh yeah...did I mentioned I'll get a lap top?! So I can go with him to family's houses to make arrangements?! AWESOME! He already has it! He showed me!
What's really cute is that he is just equally excited as I am.
You know somedays when you wake up with a huge, ominous knot in your gut and you just know that something bad is going to happen?
Yeah, one of those days. But other than that sense of dread tip toeing behind me I woke up surprisingly chipper. I was already expecting to have a rough day so I decided to jog 3 miles and finished at a new record time. I even allowed myself the priveledge of checking out Agassi's rear while he stretched and flexed infront of me. He knows it drives me crazy. I was so psyched to go on a service today with Shonna that I dressed up really nice: skirt, three inch stilettos (yeah, sis...three inches), and a beautiful white, lacey shirt. I styled my hair (which was hacked off yesterday and is now 4 inches shorter) and carefully did my makeup. Here's some pictures before the sh*t hit the fan. Don't mind the bird.:
To make a long, horribly depressing story short, Shonna and I had just arrived at the church when she remembers that the prayer cards forgot to be printed. She knows I can handle a service so she takes the Lead car back to the funeral home to get them. I start the procession with the minister and the family into the church, and it's seamless. Then I wait paitently for Shonna.
Thirty minutes pass and I'm still waiting.
Finally, I see the Lead car pull around and...Sheria steps out. Our office manager. The only woman with a pair of balls big enough to intimidate Michelle and the only person holding the funeral home up. When I ask what happened to Shonna, she's almost at a loss for words and simply says: "I'm not sure about the details, but when I left I know she was either fired or she quit."
I was in utter shock. Michelle called another funeral home to send a Director out to help me with the graveside. Shonna and Sheria both met me at the cemetery: Shonna was in her car and Sheria had taken the Lead car, I had to hitch a ride with the other Director. We sat in Shonna car for the longest time just bawling and bitching. I had already made up my mind a long time ago that if Shonna ever left, I would leave. I'm already a licensed funeral director, so there would be nothing keeping me at the funeral home.
So that's what I did. I quit. As soon as I got back to the funeral home I quit.
I still need two more embalming cases and I'll figure out how to get those tomorrowm, since Michelle threatened me that if I left the company, I couldn't volunteer at the Care Center anymore. That's BS. Plus, everyone at the Care Center hates her. I'm positive that I can finish my two cases despite what she says.
Despite a very emotional and stressful day, I have no regrets about leaving. I can work full time for the Kostelacs and make much more money, atleast temporarily, while I call on some old friends at other funeral homes outside the company. One in particular I know would hire me in a heart beat, though it's quite a commute.
Oh yeah, here's a picture of me after the whole ordeal. I've been crying all day. My eyes are puffy.
If you included all the weeping and bawling I've ever done while PMSing, watching Grey's Anatomy, and shouldering all the shit I've had to put up with from my boss, it wouldn't come close to totaling the amount of tears I've cried after a hard, emotional day at work. So many of my families from the funeral home ask me how I'm able to do it every day, walk hand-in-hand with death while smiling and tra-la-la-ing and yet be so helpful when they're falling apart. They always tend to assume that I'm just a hard-ass and brush their grief and heartbreak off like it was just some lint stuck to my skirt.
The fact is, it's my job to help those who temporarily lose their direction. It used to unnerve me to witness a grown man cry and I would just shy back and twiddle my thumbs and wait till he stopped. Now, I understand and know that when a man steadies himself against a couch, simply being right there beside him makes all the difference.
So, I'm seemingly fine while the mother of very young motorcycle crash victim tearfully asks me if tomorrow's service is her final opportunity to say goodbye; the father notifies me that I'm supposed to sneak in and out of the chapel during the visitation to make sure nothing is leaking from his son's left ear and stealthily fix it if there is something leaking; and the brother belts out a serenade to a full house because the microphone isn't working. However, when I step into the shower later that night, I wash every bit of that off and cry till my eyes feel like they're going to topple out of my head. This is perfectly normal and healthy and is called Catharsis ( a release of emotional tension, as after an overwhelming experience, that restores or refreshes the spirit).
But everynow and then I'm thrown a curve ball.
A young man called the funeral home when I happened to be the only person working and asked me to help him arrange his own funeral. Easy enough. After answering all his odd-ball questions about cremation and nailing down all the nitty-gritty details of the service, he still had not told me if he was sick or not. It's my experience that when a person is faced with his own mortality they usually like to talk about it. So, I asked him gently, "This may be none of my business...atleast not yet....but..", no I didn't say that, that would be horrible! OMG! I asked him, "Matt, I'm just curious, and don't feel you need to answer this, but is there a reason you're making these preparations now? Are you sick?" and he replied: "Well...-stuttering and such-...It's just a very long story and I don't want to bore you with it. You've been so helpful, more than I expected you to be." And he was all gracious. He called the next day and my boss picked up. He asked for me and when she said that I wasn't there but she asked for his name and told him that she would tell me that he called, he said, "Uh...My name is Logan...and don't worry about it I'll call back." He didn't want to give her his phone number...or his real name. He did end up calling me later, but only to ask the same questons as he did the day before. All the girls in the office think he is suicidal and only trusts me now that he likes me. It's weird.
I'm alittle freaked.
I've lost a considerable amount of sleep and appetite and it's all his fault, or mine for being sensitive. He hasn't called lately, and I feel I should be thankful for that.
