Wednesday, June 10, 2009


I wrote this yesterday, but was too pissed to complete it, and was shaking enough to make typing it a bit too slow:


So here is a little history: I used to work for a family-owned funeral home a ways (like hours, not like across town) from where I work now. I got a job there just out of mortuary school and it seemed like a nice place to live, so I started working there and liked it a lot. They had an apartment above the mortuary for me, so I had free rent and utilities, and the apartment had a kick-ass patio and its own laundry room. About a year ago I decided to move back “home” and luckily found a job at another family-owned firm, although this one is much bigger in terms of case load. This firm I work at now is awesome, and it’s one of those places that someone either has to retire or die for anyone else to have a shot at a job there, and lucky for me one guy had just quit to join a restaurant and another guy quit to move far away. There were other interviewees but I was breathtakingly awesome and wooed them with my manipulative charm, so of course got the job. Anyway, the guy that left to work in the restaurant business decided after a few months that he wanted to be back in the funeral industry and wanted his job back. Apparently he was a slacker and my boss was happy to be rid of him and said that his position had been filled (and by someone that looks awesome in a skirt suit and heels) and that we weren’t interested in hiring another employee, so he got a job at another funeral home in town. Needless to say, Restaurant Slacker didn’t take too kindly to that and has pretty much hated me for the past year.

This is what happened today: Restaurant Slacker called and Buck answered the phone.
“This is RS. I need to talk to Doll”
Me: I pick up the phone, “this is Doll,” I say in my sweetest, most bubbly voice.
RS: He decides not letting me talk is his best approach, so tells me in a gush of words, “Doll, this is RS. I need to talk to you about a family member of mine that called there earlier. She said she talked to you, so don’t try to tell me that you don’t remember. When someone calls for me I would appreciate you not lying to them and telling them that I work at a restaurant. She is an effing family member!”
Me: Trying not to sound as flustered and I-could-stick-a-pencil-in-your-neck-I’m-so-pissed angry, “you know, RS, this sounds like an issue for you to bring up with my boss. And I’m sure you know that it isn’t our policy to give out past employees’ phone numbers. And just to let you know, she did not identify herself as one of your family members. Why doesn’t one of your family members know that you haven’t worked here in a year, anyway? That doesn’t seem right.”
RS: “I’m tired of the way you act. I can't believe you offered to help my family. That’s just not right.”
Me: “I told you I didn’t know they were your family. And since when does a funeral director not offer to help someone?? You really need to bring this up with my boss; this isn’t an argument I should be having.”

Okay, so it went on and on like that for a little while longer until he hung up on me. And now I am sitting here, shaking like a Polaroid picture, pissed as frack, waiting to go home, where I won’t drink beers because I’m on call tonight.