Disinterments

So, I had a disinterment this week. A family wanted their mother shipped to another state after having been buried here for 15 years. Luckily, her casket is metal, and she had been buried in a full vault, not just a liner (I suppose you'll need a vocab lesson for those), but not luckily the casket was quite rusty, and she's kinda gross looking I'm sure. But you know what is the best part? This particular cemetery didn't make me climb in the hole to inspect everything first. Nope, they just had me show up after getting her out of the ground, helped me put her in the car, and that was that.

See, thus is how it usually happens: I get to the cemetery when they are digging the hole and once they hit the vault they take off the lid and tell me to go on in to make sure the casket is in good enough shape for them to lift out. I have to open it to make sure the bottom won't fall out either. It smells. I gag profusely while the cemetery guys watch. I have to swallow my own puke. It. Is. Gross. The sit I wore that day has to be thrown away, not even the dry cleaner can get the smell off. My hair smells for days. My skin feels disgusting. The odor is in my noise hairs and I can't get it out. It's really bad.

So, this week's disinterment? Cake walk.

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Next on my list...

The thing that sucks about knowing what needs to be done is that every minute you aren’t doing it you feel like a bit of a failure. This is going to be a downer post. Sorry

I can’t really see any way to not need to get a second job. This single parent thing is killing me. Don’t get me wrong, I am happy in a way I’ve never been before, but I’m also very aware of how much money I don’t have, and very aware how little I had to worry about money before. I cant remember ever worrying about money in my life, not even in college when all I had was a part time job, I always knew everything would get paid, and it hasn’t even really been until this week that I started to actively worry about it. Last night was the deal breaker for me; I woke up in the middle of the night and just thought and thought about it. I couldn’t go back to sleep (which has left me exhausted this morning), and realized that a second job is the only solution, as I have bills that I already can’t pay, let alone the ones next month that will add to the ones this month, which added to the ones last month, which fucking sucks. Not only do I not want to work that many hours in a day, just thinking about my daughter and how much I don’t want to be away from her any more than I already have to makes me cry. I worry that she wont ever understand why I had to do it, take her time with me away, and just knowing that I cant get that time back is killing me. I feel like I’ve failed. Where does one even look for a second job? I don’t have a clue. And where does one find child care for nighttime? I doubt that will be easy. Fuck, this is so hard.

In which I was having a great day until...

Fuk. I'm not going to rant, I'm not going to rant, I'm not going to rant...

I am making arrangements for the interment of a veteran in one of the national cemeteries.  His remains were cremated and the next-of-kin gave me the DD214 (discharge form) so that I could arrange for the free burial that he is entitled to (did you know that all honorably-discharges veterans are entitled to a free grave and marker?), and I faxed it in to the National Cemetery scheduling office this morning.  I waited a while and called them to make sure they would have had time to receive the fax, and talked to a sweet lady that took the deceased's info and scheduled the graveside service with me in about 5 minutes. She took the date that I requested for the service and asked what time:
Service Lady: What time on that date would you like the service?
Me: is 11 available?
SL: Lemme check *clicky sounds on the computer* Um, the closest I have is 12:30.
Me: *notice that Big Bird is standing over my shoulder holding her desk calendar, and turn to look at her*
Big Bird: *whispering* 11 o'clock today? I have an opening for 11:30, not 11!!! *panicking now, but still whispering*
Me: *to the SL on the phone* Please excuse me, I'm being interrupted. *exasperated, to BB* I am on the phone, and this has nothing to do with an appointment here, nor is it for today.
*BB feels like an idiot and walks back into her office to eavesdrop on the rest of the fucking day, and I feel like shit for having been an ass hole*
*to the SL* Sorry about that, did you say 12:30? That's just fine.
etc...

WTF? Why is she so effing anal about the fracking calendar? Why does she think that I am incapable of checking a fucking calendar to see when we have appointments available? Am I really that incompetent? Am I new here? Why am I so angry?

And this is what really sucks: I was in *such* a good mood today! Here are my reasons why (maybe they will help calm me down):
1. I slept well. J and I went to the spa last night before bed, and although it was WAY too hot, I feel quite refreshed.
2. We didn't get too busy at work this weekend, so today has been less hectic than the past few Mondays.
3. I'm not sure why, but my boobs look GREAT today.  Maybe they got perkier overnight, or maybe my vision is failing in my old age, either way, they're adorable.

But, alas, I am sitting here, relaxed and perky, and in a foul effing mood. Somebody, please, cheer me up!

UPDATE:
Part of my good day list is two blogs I've been liking, that I am sharing with you:
Is this thing on?
Late Enough

I would LOL but it would interfere with the pouting

Monica got flowers.

I am totally jealous.

See, I'm not really the type that gives a shit about getting flowers (well, not that much of a shit anyway), and I'm definitely not jealous of getting red roses (yep, Monica got red. fucking. roses.), as I'm not a rose person, but she got them from a family she did the services for, and that makes me jealous.  I couldn't have cared less if they had been from her man (cuz he's totally unworthy of her, and all other women), but from a family? Because they were grateful? And with a card that reads "Thanks for the wonderful job you did???" You would be jealous, too. I deserve flowers, damn it. I'm a fucking charming embalmer. People love me...don't they??

So, here I sit flowerless and jealous. Maybe I'll steal them...

Jewish Services

So, I don't know how many of my reader friends are Jewish, or even have many Jews in their community, but this past month I've had two Jewish funerals, and let me tell you: they are not easy.

So, Jews, Orthodox Jews in particular, have rules about burial, like, not just traditions, but rules.  When one dies, the interment (burial) must be within 24 hours (as long as that's possible), not counting the Sabbath (sundown Friday to sundown Saturday) on which it is forbidden to do work pertaining to the funeral arrangements.  This can be a bit hectic, especially when the deceased's doctor isn't Jewish, as they don't always cooperate with the funeral home in how quickly they do the death certificate paperwork (which is necessary for burial to take place).  The evening before burial (the day of the death) the body must be bathed and shrouded, then placed in an Orthodox casket, called an Aron, which is always a wooden casket with no metal or animal-based glues, and usually has holes in the bottom (to aid in decomposition of the remains) and a Star of David on the lid.

So, the bathing ritual takes place in the embalming room, so I have to make sure it's extra clean, and I have to take down the crucifix that I always have hanging above the sink, and get out protective gowns, shoe covers, gloves, etc. for the people to wear that come in to do the bathing.  The ceremony is done by four members of the Synegauge that are of the same sex as the deceased, and I have never watched it, I feel out of place when they start chanting in Hebrew, but I do pop my head in every once in a while to make sure they don't need anything.  It takes about three hours, and when the bathing/praying/shrouding is done we all put the deceased in the Aron.  There are candles that get light when the bathing ceremony is taking place, ones that look a lot like the Catholic ones, but instead of Jesus they are decorated with a Star of David and words in Hebrew.  THe candle is to stay with the remains before they are buried, lit the whole time, and then after the burial they are taken by the surving family members and burned for another 6 days at home.

At the time of the death (if the Rabbi is there) the Rabbi tears the clothing of the family members.  The clothing is then worn for a week to remind the family to grieve.  If family members weren't present at the death their clothing is torn at the graveside.

The attendees at the burial all help shovel the earth into the plot once the Aron is lowered into the ground, and that's it.

It doesn't seem like as much work as it really was, rereading the post, but I promise, it was stressful.

Why does it bother me so much?

Manager says to me earlier this week: I wonder how many of the bodies run through here go to Hell. *chuckle*

I can't stop thinking about it.

This week in a nutshell

So, a good friend of mine isn’t speaking to me.

Big Bird is making me want to kill a b****. All week she’s been riding my ass about any little nit-picky thing she can come up with. Then, to top it off her dad had a stroke yesterday and she had to leave to go to the hospital with her mom and so I feel bad for hating her. I even called her cell last night to see if I could bring them some dinner (she said no, but thanked me anyway), and I can’t figure out why I did that. I really am not that nice of a person.

Whatever, she’s back at work today, and my friend still isn’t speaking to me, and I’m on call this weekend, so… Here goes it I guess.

I'm having a shitty week

Check back in a coupla days...

Bones

I have mad love for the show Bones, but I have a little issue.  We tivo-ed last week's episode, and I was watching it this weekend, and this is what I have to say: Eyeballs decompose quickly after death, or, at least, the fluid inside them deminishes quickly, and an unrefrigerated or unembalmed body will have very sunken eyes within a day.  The episode from ladt week had a dead body in the trunk and the face was bacly rotting, but there were these perfectly round eyeballs in it.  There have been a few other issues I have had with the show, but that is to be expected from Hollywood every now and then.  The thing that bothers me about the eyeballs is that it was such an obvious mistake.  I laughed out loud when I saw it even.  Any mortician, or probably even anyone that works in a hospital should be able to point that out.  ANyway, I'm not boycotting the show or anything, but just was a little annoyed.

What women can't do

So, today I was told three different times by three different men that moving bodies wasn't 'woman's work'. um, wha?? so, I'm a little perturbed, and, at the times they were explaining to me that I was not to be moving bodies, was as well. Now, not one of the three men that told me about whose job it was to move the dead knew about the other men that had been telling me (or were going to tell me later in the day), which makes it even worse. This means that they all three think that body moving is solely a mans job (well, sort of. Two of the three think its okay for me to move a body, with the help of another (man) if all other possible men are not available and the body MUST be moved then). And these aren't big, surly, strong guys, just regular (old) guys. And don't get me wrong, I appreciate that they are worried about my frail, feminine body, but come on. I picked mortician as my profession with the knowledge that it would include body moving, even when the body is heavy, or gross, or whatever. It's what I do. And also, the main embalmer is a woman. I don't see them coming in the prep room at all hours helping her move her bodies. Is it that she's like 48? Or larger than I am? Or doesn't wear dresses, and therefore isn't as feminine? I don't get it.

Frack I'm tired

Today was a bitch.

Yesterday was busy, but not bitchy. Mr. GunshotWoundsToTheHeadAndChest looks great. The bullet to the head did little external damage, the hardest part to make look good was the autopsy incision on his head (he has corn rows, and the coroner cut right through them, making it even more crucial that the halves line up properly). the bullets to the arms, however, were a different story. The bullets were small, or at least I assume they were, as the holes in the skin are not large, I can fit my pinky in but not my thumb, so maybe index finger sized, but a couple of the holes were cut into by the ME (medical examiner) to (I assume) retrieve the bullets. The incisions made by the ME are rarely carefully made, and sometimes can cut into a major artery, which makes embalming a bitch, as it did in the right arm of this guy. The brachial artery was severed in this case, so embalming had to be done using an incision at the interior part of the elbow, injecting fluid both toward the hand and toward the body. It worked, and maybe it would have been done that way anyway, the bullet may have done damage like that, but us embalmers like to think that the ME should just be more careful with bodies.

Anyway, back to today. I got a new case. The deceased was in an auto accident, head and body injuries being the COD (cause of death). He looked bad, the skull alone would take a day or so, and after that maybe four hours of restoration (mainly the nose and forehead), but it was do-able, and after speaking with the family I knew that they wanted a viewing, so I was excited. They came in this afternoon and we talked about cremation after the viewing/service, and they were thinking that it would be nice, and then the third sibling came in and he convinced his brother and sister not to view this guy. Total shit, right? Jane came in and saw the deceased and said that he would be too much work anyway (which I doubt she really meant, she was just tired), but I was determined, and it's one of those times that I just wished that I could embalm him without family consent and teach them all a lesson. Argh.

I am so tired

The hubby had a gig last night. Two other djs came to town and they played from 9pm to 1am at a local bar. It was fun, I was in charge of taking the money at the door for the first hour or so, then some friends took over so I could shake it on the dance floor. This hot chick came up to me and danced a bit, and after a few minutes she started getting a bit handsy, I was wearing a killer blue dress (imagine Marylin's white dress in navy) and all of a sudden there are hands creeping their way up it. WTF, right? So I turned arround (the chick was dancing on my backside) and asked her what she was doing. Here's the convo:

Hot chick: Oh don't worry, I'm not a lesbian.
Me: What?
HC: I mean, you look hot, but I don't want to date you.
Me: Um, I wans't worried that you were a lesbian, I just dont want my ass hanging out all over the bar, so don't pull up my dress. And I'm married anyway.
HC: Oh, you are? Where is he? He just lets you go to clubs in sexy dresses?
Me (a bit stunned that this hot chick thinks my dress is sexy): Um, he's right over there watching you feel up his wife.
HC: Oh. *waves at my hubby* Will he let you give me your phone number.
Me: Why don't you go ask him?

What just happened there? I'm still confused. Was she hitting on me? I cannot figure it out.

Different topic:
Pete, an olf funeral director here called me up to his office this morning. He told me that his home page was changed and wanted to know why and if I could "fix it back to CNN." So I did that for him and also made a MapQuest bookmark at his request, and I swear to Buddha he thinks I am a computer guru. It's funny, the things that we can do that other generations can't.

Don't sit under the apple tree

Do you ever have one of those days where you wonder how the hell we’ve been evolving for so many years and yet everyone is still somehow so dumb? Yes, you say? Well, then you know how I feel.

We got two cases yesterday, one is an 85 year old woman that died in a hospital ER, and the other one is a 40-something year old that died as an inpatient. So, when someone dies in the ER the coroner has to be notified and they issue a number to the case and release the body so that the mortuary can pick it up. If they died in the ER of something like a car accident or shooting or something the deceased would obviously go to be autopsied, but a vast majority of the ER deaths are people that are taken in already in the process of dying (like with old people). So, the 85 year old died yesterday, and the idiot coroner won’t let us take her until they have word from her doctor that she was supposed to die. WTF? She’s fracking 85!! She was dying at home and the paramedics tried to resuscitate her while in route to the hospital and couldn’t, so she died. I’m going to be even more pissed when her death certificate comes back reading that she had COPD for years or something.

Then the 40-something year old that had been a resident of the hospital for a couple of weeks is being autopsied by the coroner for who knows what reason. You don’t get to live in a hospital when you’re healthy, obviously there was something wrong with her, and I doubt that the hospital didn’t know what she was sick from and what killed her. She was being treated for Christ’s sake.

Am I asking too much? Sometimes, even though I know I’m not, I just can’t help but wonder…

On a lighter note, my co-worker, Buck and I have been singing Doris Day all afternoon. She's my favorite singer of all time, and the title of the post is one of her awesome songs.

Argh.

I had one of those families today that made me want to shoot someone. The son of the deceased was the only one to come in and make arrangements, and he was really nice, however, he was also very nervous. Now you might be thinking, “Of course he was nervous, Doll, I would be too if I were a sixty-something single man with no social skills and I was sitting across from you in that rockin’ black with white pinstripes skirt suit and your new shoes,” but this was different. He is one of those socially stunted guys that one often feels sorry for but can’t seem to like anyway, that always makes people around him feel strange. Anyhoo, he was making arrangements for his father’s funeral and it was all I could do to not tell him that I will be waiting in the office and to come get me when he could get through a sentence without interrupting himself so that we could get some work done.

And now that I’m writing it I feel bad because he’s no longer here and not annoying the shit out of me, and his dad is dead, and I’m just complaining, but there it is, one little bit of myself that isn’t perfect.

My day, or, in which there are problems

The thing that really sucks about being an embalmer that also meets with families is just that, you do both. This morning I started embalming a case at 8:40 (after our weekly meeting) and knew I had a family to meet at 10:30, which normally would be fine. Here is a list of everything that went wrong with the case I embalmed:

1. He wasn’t on blocks when I got into the prep room. Now, if any of my readers are embalmers, I am about to sound like a spoiled, whiny, girly embalmer chick, which is fine. Opie, my back-of-the-house coworker, gets to work at about 6:30am and gets a lot of body prep done before I even show up, and is really good about putting the cases to be embalmed up on blocks (plastic or metal footed boards that go under the deceased at the shoulders, hips and feet to allow water to flow over their backside) and with a sheet over them so that when the embalmer arrives they can get right to work. Well, this guy (the one to be embalmed) was big, like 220 or so, and I am not big. Now, you need to know that I don’t like asking for help, especially here at work where the guys all tell me that I shouldn’t be lifting bodies since I'm a girl and girls just aren’t made to lift things, but there was no way I was going to be able to lift him while placing a block under him, so I had to get help.

2. The deceased had what we call “skin slip” on his arms. Skin slip is what it sounds like, the skin slipping and tearing, and then oozing from the place that the skin should be. This happens because the fascia under the skin decomposes enough to “let go” of the skin on top of it, and when the body is moved the skin just slips right off. Gross, yes, but at least it doesn’t smell. This guy was also a bit edematous, which aides in the skin slipping.

3. I nicked a vein. Yeah, so apparently I’m not that great at being careful. I opened the supra-clavicular (yay! embalming term!!) incision I made, and started my search for the artery, and wouldn’t you know, I broke a little vein which started to leak blood all in the incision and get in the way of my finding the artery, that little shit. So now I stick my finger (gloved, of course) in the hole and feel around for the artery (in school they always said that we should be able to find the artery with our fingers, not our eyes, probably for situations just like this), which I found, thank god. It feels like a large, wet rubber band, just in case you wondered, unless the person was really sclerotic, in which case it feels like sand inside a balloon.

4. I wasn't getting any fluid in the legs. Like none at all. So, I made incisions in each leg to find the femoral arteries. It took a while, and by the time I was done with the second leg it was time to meet with my 10:30 family which was:

5. fifteen minutes early. Easy arrangement though and I was back in the prep room at 11:30 to finish up the embalming I had left, which is not normal AT ALL, fyi. He actually ended up looking pretty good, and here are the good things that happened after all the problems:

1. I got to leave at 4:15, the time at which I had requested to leave in order to make my five o'clock:

2. HAIR APPOINTMENT!!! I haven't gone to a 'real' salon in months, it was one of the things I said I'd sacrifice in order to move to my home town and rent an apartment while still owning a house in another town that was not going to sell. I look awesome, and my hairs are like an inch long, but yet still non-manish (or at least not totally man-ish)

3. My hubby and daughter are out of town for the night, so my favorite sister (the youngest) and I went for cocktails to the spot that my boss and his girlfriend were, and we drank for free. Yay for free drinks, right?

4. I get to sleep with the windows open. It's like 78 degrees out right now and I think I'm in heaven.

OSHA training sucks

I just got finished with two hours of OSHA training. Swear to god, another fifteen minutes of that shit and I would die. It was all done on a power point presentation, and I almost fell asleep. There was a funny slide though during the "Bloodborne Pathogen" section. The slide was on HIV and how not to get infected (there's something really wrong with hearing my co-worker say "semen and vaginal secretions") by a dead body, and the little clip-art next to the instructions read "Get Well Soon" which made me chuckle. Really? Get well soon? On the HIV/AIDS slide? I thought it was funny.

Also, I forgot to mention: a case we had last week was being embalmed by Jane and I was keeping her company in the prep room. She started injecting and after a little while these little bruises appeared on the deceased's breasts. They looked like bite marks. Why weren't they there before we started injecting, you might ask... Well, that means the bruises were made at the same time the person died usually. Interesting? Yes.

Crying babies

I'm at a funeral Mass right now. It's hot as hell, and I'm in a (super cute, but that's beside the point) skirt suit, nylons, and four inch heels, sweating my ass off. And to top it off I have a run in my pantyhose that looks like I was in an MMA fight in order to get one that big. There is a baby crying (like a little, fresh outta the chute baby) and I thought I'd text message my co-worker about it. What did I send, you ask? "Kill that baby," which before I hit send didn't seem that bad, and now I'm thinking about how I'm going to be tried for murder someday and the prosecutors will read that text to show my history of violence, even toward children. I did make my co-worker laugh out loud though, a couple of Mass attendees even turned around to glare at him. Unprofessional? Yes. Funny? Definitely. So, I just want to say, for the record, I don't really want to kill that baby.

Random thoughts

So, one of the things I am working on today when my manager is not in the room is writing up the lyrics to Penny Lane all neat-like for my ex-roommate in New Jersey. She is pregnant right now and is going to call her baby Penny (short for Penelope) and wants the lyrics to the song to give to her hubby for father’s day then hang them in the baby’s room. Back in college for one of her birthdays I wrote the lyrics to You are my Sunshine and framed them for her and she’s always thought that was the best gift and keeps it hung in her bedroom (had I known she was going to like something cheesy like that I wouldn’t have bothered with the necklace from Tiffany’s the year prior). So, I’ve been slowly finishing the Penny Lane song today.

Another phone call that I have to post came through about an hour ago:
Me: You kill ‘em we fill ‘em Funeral Home, this is Doll.
Salesman: Hi Doll, this is Michael from (a company whose name you will promptly forget), can I speak with the owner or controller?
Me: (wtf is a controller?) May I tell him what this is regarding?
Salesman: It’s a matter that needs to be discussed with him; can you please put me through?
Me: If you could just tell me what company you’re from again, please?
Salesman: No, I will not tell you that again, and you ask way too many questions when you should just put me through to the owner or controller. And get me some coffee while you’re at it, it’s your job. *click*

One thing to learn about me: I am horrible with pop culture. When it comes to movies I probably haven’t heard of it, and people in the office love to make references that I totally miss, having not seen anything that isn’t either Finding Nemo or the Flight of the Navigator. So today when Big Bird randomly said, “The plane! The plane!” it totally went over my head (no pun intended) which sucks because she never does anything remotely funny or non-stick-up-my-ass-ish.

ANGER!!!!!!!!!!

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

Frack.

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.

Busy Morning

Ack!

So, my day started out busy, and it’s one of those I-can’t-believe-it-isn’t-noon-yet days where all my work is done in a fast and furious whirlwind and now I have nothing left to do but blog. So, here’s a play-by-play (okay, not really, but close) of my morning:

7:45 dropped off by the hubby at the Starbucks down the street from the office.
7:55 walked into work and before even a “Good Morning,” Big Bird says, “Doll, whenever you have a minute Pete and I have been trying to figure out how to open an obituary attachment on the company email.”
8:00 open previously mentioned email attachment and print it out for BB and Pete.
8:10 visit Jane in the prep room, getting ready to embalm a very large decedent and leave her there to fend for herself while I get ready to meet with the family of said decedent.
8:20 call the previously mentioned family. “Um, hi… Were you planning on coming in this morning? I have down here that you are scheduled to be in at 8…oh you’d rather come in this afternoon? Sure. I’ll go ahead with scheduling the church and everything in the meantime.”
8:30 gown up and join Jane in the prep room.
8:40 manager (Tank) comes in and says, “Doll, when you’re finished here I need to have a little chat with you.” Uh, what? Wtf does that mean?
8:41 Jane says I should go “chat” with Tank now, she's dying to hear what he has to tell me (and she knows I can't keep from telling her anything)
8:42 wander around the funeral home looking for Tank. When I find him he takes me into his office (shit, his office??) and tells me that the funeral home is hiring a new girl (Yay, a girl, and she's cute even) that I am to train. Yay!!!!!!!!!!!!
9:00 Get all the service stuff scheduled for the new family and the casket ordered.
10:00-ish help Jane finish up the embalming
10:30 a few more calls for other services, and my day is DONE!

Huh, it seems like there was something else I was going to mention, but I suppose I can just add that later. I will also post about this new hot chick that I will soon be training.