A Fitting And Tasty Tribute

, , , , , , , | Related | May 11, 2020

My grandma was… eccentric, to put it mildly. She was a slight kleptomaniac, she took no s*** from anyone, she raised eight kids alone after her husband died, she worked at a chocolate factory for thirty years because it meant that she and her kids had a steady supply of candy, and she absolutely loved throwing parties and having people over.

When she dies, we decide to throw her the best wake we can, and as such, almost everyone who comes brings cookies, coffee, soda, sandwiches, PLENTY of chocolate, and maybe a flask or two. The funeral home has a couple of sitting areas set up in the basement, so we stake one out and turn the wake into an all-day affair, with people coming in and out as they can. 

A couple of other wakes are going on, as well, and toward the evening, we notice a little boy from another wake, maybe seven years old, sneak over to the sitting area we’re using, steal a couple of cookies, and run back.

Me: “Did he just…?”

Aunt: “Yeah. Man, I would not have had the guts to do that at his age!”

Cousin: “To be fair, that family has been here for at least five hours; that’s pretty long for a kid that young.”

Aunt: “And we definitely have the better snacks!”

I look, and sure enough, the sitting area that the other family is using has coffee and a veggie plate — nowhere near as attractive to a little kid as our overflowing array of goodies.

Me: “You know, I think Grandma would’ve approved. Remember when she stole the serving plate from the restaurant at [Uncle]’s wedding?”

That led into another round of stories about my crazy, awesome grandma and got us laughing too hard to be too upset. When his parents came down, the little boy kept glancing over, wondering if we were going to tell on him, but it was so much like something my grandma would’ve done that we couldn’t be annoyed. It was a nice laugh when we badly needed one!


This story is part of our Gorgeous Grandmas roundup!

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These Girls Are Dying To Meet You

, , , | Right | December 30, 2019

(Being a funeral home, we get a lot of prank calls. This is a frequent call.)

Me: “Good afternoon, [Funeral Home]. This is [My Name]. How may I help you?”

Caller: “Is this the line with the girls?”

Me: “Pardon?”

Caller: “The line to talk to the girls. I have something here that’s eight inches long and two inches thick.”

Me: “I’m sorry, sir. We only handle one type of stiff here.”

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This Order Is Deceased

, , , , , | Working | July 12, 2019

(I work in a funeral home so I deal with the flower shops pretty regularly. We are the only funeral home in town and there are only three flower shops, but we only have problems with this specific one, for some reason. That being said, it takes at most ten minutes to get from one side of town to the other, so, at most, it should take ten minutes to get from this flower shop to the funeral home if they manage to hit every single red light. According to my boss, this flower shop had called the day before asking when to bring the flowers over. It has ALWAYS been no later than an hour before. A coworker had answered and stressed that the flowers be at the funeral home no later than 9:30 for the service at 10:30, which my boss had heard her say. It is 9:45 and the flowers haven’t shown up. I give them a call.)

Employee: “[Flower Shop], this is [Employee].”

Me: “Hey, [Employee]! This is [My Name] with the funeral home. I was wondering when you would be here with the flowers for [Deceased]’s service?”

Employee: “Oh! They left about fifteen minutes ago, so they should be there in a few minutes.”

Me: “All righty, then. Thanks.”

(It seems weird that they were leaving at the time they had been told to bring the flowers, and that it is going to take them TWENTY MINUTES to get here. I let my boss know, since the family has started trickling in. She’s, of course, ticked. Thirty minutes later, however, the flowers still aren’t here. I go call them again since the service is starting in fifteen minutes and I need to let them know to take the flowers to the reception instead of the funeral home.)

Employee: “[Flower Shop].”

Me: “Hi, it’s me again with the funeral home. We still haven’t gotten the flowers yet for [Deceased]’s service.”

Employee: “What? We don’t have any flowers for any services this week. Haven’t gotten any requests.”

Me: “What? I just called you a half-hour ago and you said you were on your way.”

Employee: “Let me check.”

(I can hear the conversation in the background, saying there haven’t been any flower requests for that service.)

Employee: “Sorry, we don’t have any flowers for [Deceased].”

Me: “Okay, then. Thanks.”

(I went back and let my boss know. We are still all confused as to why the flower shop had called to ask about delivering flowers and told us they were on their way if they didn’t have anything for it.)

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I’d Like To Reschedule My Death For Later

, , , , | Right | January 18, 2019

(I’m the goof in this story. Earlier this year, my brother died. He had lived on the other side of the state. The rest of the family made plans to come to town a few weeks later for a memorial service. My kids and I planned to drive over and meet them. Since it is over a three-hour drive away, we plan to stay the night and then go to a park nearby the next day. I make hotel arrangements that actually include park entry. Since they are discounted, they are nonrefundable. My family also texts me with different information to pass on to the funeral home. On the day of the service, I go to pick up my daughter early from school. My other daughter is already with me. Unfortunately, one daughter misjudges a step and falls badly on her knee, causing clear and serious damage. We drive straight to the hospital. While in the waiting room, I make a flurry of phone calls to let people know we’ll miss the service. My last call is to the hotel. I scroll through my phone and press the number with the proper area code, assuming it is the hotel. It is a bit noisy in the waiting room, so I do not hear what is said when they answer.)

Me: “Hello. I have reservations for today, but we’ve had a bit of an emergency. Is there any way I can reschedule for next month?”

Voice On Phone: “What?”

Me: “My daughter has dislocated her kneecap, so won’t be able to walk. Can we reschedule?”

Voice On Phone: “Who are you calling?”

Me: “[Hotel]?”

Voice On Phone: “You’ve reached the funeral home.”

Me: “Oops! Rescheduling with you would be a bad idea.”

(I did laugh, which caused a lot of odd stares in the waiting room. What must the funeral home have thought?! I should post on Not Always Hopeless that once I did call the right number, the hotel was incredibly kind and moved our reservation for us at no additional cost. We got there for my daughter’s birthday, and with her knee brace on, she played all day.)

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Tipping The Scales In The Afterlife

, , , , , , , | Related | May 7, 2018

(From the time we were kids until she passed, my grandmother insisted on taking my cousins, uncle, and me out to eat the first Sunday of every month at a local diner. She always insisted on paying, and would always tip a single dollar. We are at her funeral dinner, and I turn to my cousin with a confession.)

Me: “I don’t think Nana ever got that a dollar tip was kind of an insult. I started leaving an extra tip hidden under my plate for the waitress.”

Cousin: “Wait, what? I was doing the same thing!”

(Laughing for the first time since Nana passed, we run over to [Cousin #2], who shockingly says that for the past few years he has been lingering behind to drop an extra tip on the table. By this point, we are all doubled over with laughter. Our uncle comes over and we tell him what’s up.)

Uncle: “So, I should tell you something. I’ve been handing a tip off to the waitress before we get seated since you guys were kids, to make up for Nana’s tipping.”

(It turns out everyone except my two youngest cousins, who are still in highschool and don’t have jobs, has been leaving between 10% and 20% tip! We all went from feeling guilty about Nana’s tipping habits to realizing that they must have thought we were the best tipping family, in an over-complicated sort of way.)

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