(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.)

(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.)

(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.)

My grandmother recently died. Funeral arrangements were pre-planned. My dad and his sister do not get along. He started taking care of all the details, but his sister had to sign some paperwork. It took almost a week for her to sign it.

However, in this time, the funeral home director sent the proof of the death announcement for the papers that my grandmother wrote with my dad — to his sister. She made significant, inaccurate changes. The funeral home director didn’t consult with my dad, and that was published in the papers.

My father complained, since he paid for this service. He was told that they would look into it. However, when my dad showed up to pick up my grandmother’s cremated remains, he was told that he couldn’t have them until he paid the bill for the newspaper announcement. He paid it. Then, they spend half an hour trying to locate Grandma. Eventually, they found her in a storage closet.

My cat died two days after my Grandma. My vet treated my cat’s ashes, and me, with more respect than my dad and Grandma’s ashes received.

TL;DR: Grandma’s ashes were held ransom and misplaced.

(This exchange takes place during my first year managing a particular cemetery. We have a policy, posted on the gate to the cemetery and printed on the back of cemetery maps, that people may decorate graves for holidays/special occasions, but that decorations will be removed a week after the holiday and disposed of. Although it isn’t posted policy, we also store the removed items outside the workshop for about a week before throwing them out. People who have been visiting the cemetery a long time know about the unofficial policy, so they’re not always quick to get decorations they want to keep off the graves, and may drop by to root around in the “decorations heap” to retrieve their items. We never guarantee their things will be there.)

Customer: “What happened to the Christmas decorations on my husband’s grave?”

Me: “We remove holiday decorations a week after the holiday, ma’am.”

Customer: “How is anyone supposed to know that?”

Me: “It is posted policy, ma’am. The sign at the entrance to the cemetery explains it, and we do recommend not placing items you want to keep in the cemetery.”

Customer: “I spent a lot of money on those decorations! I spent a lot of money and time, and you’re going to reimburse me for them!”

Me: “Ma’am, I’m sorry you’re upset, but it is cemetery policy to remove the holiday decorations a week after the holiday. We’re not going to reimburse you.”

Customer: “Oh, yes you are! I spent over $200 on my decorations, and they were removed, and I want them back! Where are they?”

Me: “Items left in the cemetery are disposed of, ma’am.”

Customer: “You threw them AWAY?! Where are they? You used to put decorations somewhere out back so people could get them!”

(As that was never posted policy, she wouldn’t know about it unless she’d been decorating the grave, and having her items removed, for years, so our “items are disposed of” policy could not have been a surprise to her.)

Me: “We did store them, ma’am. We kept all removed decorations out back for two weeks before disposing of them. We also didn’t take the decorations down for two weeks this year, instead of the single week that is our posted policy, so there were actually four full weeks you could have come retrieved your items before they were thrown away.”

Customer: “But it’s still the holidays! Other people still have holiday decorations up!”

Me: “We don’t prevent people from redecorating graves, ma’am, but those decorations will also be removed. And as our posted policy says, we remove holiday decorations a week after the holiday.”

Customer: “Just where is this policy posted?”

Me: *getting very tired of repeating myself* “At the gate to the cemetery, ma’am.”

Customer: “Well, I celebrate the holidays through the end of January, so it is still the holidays, and you took my things down, and you will reimburse me!”

Me: “I’m sorry to hear that, ma’am, but it’s several weeks past Christmas and we will not be reimbursing you.”

Customer: “Well, you’re going to be sorry! I’m going to write a letter of complaint! You have serious problems here. I’ve had things removed, and things have been stolen before, and you have no security here—”

Me: *fed up* “Yes, ma’am, because this is a cemetery, not a bank.”

(Naturally, the customer was furious with me and stormed out. I mentioned the exchange to one of the cemetery owners, who was my boss, just in case the customer called or wrote the owners to complain about me. The owner just rolled her eyes and said she knew exactly who I was talking about, and that she complains like that every year!)