Call me a grouchy Kat, but I hate getting unsolicited mail from credit card companies, mortgage companies, phone companies, and double-speak politicians. But what really plagues me is mail from a funeral home.
A letter showed up yesterday with a return address from our local undertaker…and I just left it on the counter. My first inclination was to throw it in the trash and bury it six feet under…under a headstone of banana peels. But I let it sit for a while.
Hmmm…why would I be getting mail from the sad guys in black suits? Have I reached “the ripe old age” already? I must be looking like death warmed over…with one foot in the grave. I was undertaken by the graveness of the situation.
I tried to guess what was in the letter………….
Maybe with the economy and such…the funeral home needs more business because people aren’t dying to get in there anymore. They are too freakin’ broke to die. Or maybe they are offering a coupon … "Bury one stiff and get the other stiff for free.” They might even be offering a group discount... “With 8 or more stiffs you get egg roll.”
I was sure they had a nice attractive offer…only problem is…having to redeem the offer is not so nice or attractive.
Anywhooooo………….
The letter kept haunting me…so I opened it.
Lo and behold it was a lovely invitation to a free seminar. And they “hoped I could attend.” They tried enticing me with: “You will be able to gather with your neighbors, enjoy a cup of coffee, and learn about the benefits of making funeral plans in advance.”
Don’t they know that when I gather with my neighbors…I prefer to enjoy a keg of beer…and talk about the other neighbors who could make it. IDK...maybe they had some enlightening information at the seminar, but I’d just be worried they were sizing me up for their newest container system.
If the funeral home was smarter…they could have gotten me over there lickety-split…by offering a makeover. I hear they can do wonders with make-up. They made Mrs. Finkell look like a million bucks...and she was pushing 98.
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