Author: Charles

Threnody: a progress report

3 October 2012
Charles
9 Comments
Categories: funeral music

Posted by Tim Clark

Threnody is a group of people mostly drawn from the ranks of Bangor Community Choir. We are ready to sing at funerals in places that don’t normally have choral singing, particularly at crematoria. Charles has already been kind enough to feature us here, and I felt it might be time for an update. 

We have settled into a pattern of monthly practices, in a local village hall, with add-ons when we feel like it in a friendly front room, and last-minute work-ups when we need to prepare for a funeral. We have sung at seven funerals so far: two in one crem, two at another, one at a village hall prior to a woodland burial, and one – well, that was Threnody’s first tour abroad. More on that below. 

That’s about one in five of the funerals I’ve helped with (I’m a celebrant) since we got going. When I’m meeting a family, it’s sometimes easy to tell whether or not Threnody might be wanted. It’s often been observed that people want something familiar at such a time, so sometimes the response is “oh no, that sounds a bit unusual, he wouldn’t have wanted that.” I don’t want to coax them, but I don’t want them to miss the opportunity to have something that might make a lot of difference to the ceremony. Tricky balance. 

Sometimes we are asked to help because the family want a hymn or two, and they are worried that it will sound thin with a small congregation; then they may be happy to hear that we can also sing, unaccompanied by organ and congregation, at particular moments. Entry, committal, departure are obvious points. 

One lady, who was quite unsure about the idea to start with, was much moved by “Ar Hyd y Nos” at entry, and “Dona Nobis Pacem” at committal. We also joined the congregation to sing in unison along with the organ for a couple of hymns we didn’t have ready in parts. But I hope it doesn’t sound arrogant to say that we are not there just to swell the numbers along with the organ. The effect of a capella singing seems to be quite different – lighter, more immediate, I think more engaging. 

Sometimes, of course, a family is delighted and surprised that I can offer four-part, unaccompanied singing. We have a repertoire of about 20 songs and hymns. It’s not possible, alas, for us to learn a new song at three days’ notice, but the choice is reasonably wide and includes some well-known songs. 

Favourites include “Ar Hyd y Nos/All Through the Night,” “Morning Has Broken,” “Calon Lan,” “Guide Me O Thou Great Redeemer,” “Amazing Grace,” as well as less obvious but effective choices such as “Eriskay Love Lament,” “Dona Nobis Pacem” as a round, “Sith Shaimh Leat” which is Gaelic for something close to “rest in peace.” All of these last three have worked very well in crematoria. We’re pleased with the repertoire we’ve worked up, and we’ll probably only add to it slowly, to keep us fresh. 

Interestingly, two families have said “we want hymns but we don’t want an organ.” So we sing, in harmony, the first phrase of the hymn just as an organist would play it, slowing down at the end, back to the start and then the congregation comes in. Provided I explain beforehand that’s what we’ll be doing, it works well. Hearing a Welsh/English congregation of fifty roaring through “Guide Me” with us is gooseflesh time! 

The members of Threnody love singing and are very committed to the work; for those who have perhaps been to very few funerals before, it can be quite a tough call. At a village hall, some of the sopranos were singing just a few feet from people in tears, and of course the songs themselves open up the emotions – that’s their job. 

We’ve overcome one crisis, when Colin and Anne Douglas left us to move to Scotland. They are both trained musicians, both sing like angels, and Colin did most of our arrangements. He also conducted us in our first five funerals. Franki has taken over the job twice now, very effectively, and we have at least three other members practising the role. We miss Colin and Anne very much – but you never know what talents a group of people have until you ask, do you? 

Administering Threnody can be tricky. Some of us work part-time or flexibly, some are retired, and all have to be contacted quickly. I don’t want to suggest Threnody to a family and then find out we haven’t got enough members available. But when we’re at work, enriching a crematorium funeral, it’s worth every anxious text and email. 

It must be said that the village hall funeral was the choir’s favourite – intimate, informal, much less time pressure on the whole thing.

And the foreign tour? 

An anxious lady phoned me from Shrewsbury. She knew it was a long shot but she wanted choral singing in Welsh at the funeral, and no-one was available locally. She said she would book transport for us and contribute to our favourite charity. I was very disappointed because I wasn’t available, and any case a local celebrant had been booked. I asked the choir how they felt. They were a bit startled, but they rose to the occasion, and they swept down from Bangor to Shrewsbury in a bus, sang for the lady, and when they got back in the bus, the good lady had put a hamper of sandwiches in there for them. I’m told they sung all the way home. The good lady was delighted with them.

I call that Bangor 1, Shrewsbury 0… 

Where’s the joy in death?

2 October 2012
Charles
10 Comments
Categories: Uncategorised

Posted by Kristie West

The following is a transcript of the talk Kristie delivered at the Joy of Death convention, 2012. Kristie works with bereaved people. You can find her website here. 

“The Joy of Death” festival.  What is that?  Is it just a lovely quirky name for a festival. Or perhaps just a provocative and controversial name? It it just a way to catch our attention?  Is it just a joke in very poor taste?

Or is it….the joy of death….a possibility. 

There are many things we naturally find joy in.  The joy of dance.  The joy of love….well maybe not first love which is often more insanity than joy.  The joy of little kids opening Christmas presents.  The joy of life. That works.  And the obvious – where the title of this festival has come from – the joy of sex. But the joy of death….?  This is not something we hear a lot. 

Is there any joy at all to be found in and around death? Or grief? And if there is…then why don’t we see it? And how the heck do we find it? 

This is what I want to share with you today.  Now this is a huge topic of great importance, in my opinion… and virtually never offered up for discussion. I could talk about it for days so I will do my best to do it justice in this short time. And I hope that you are all able to take away something – something new and different – to think about.  I might get a little deep (by might I mean definitely)… and I will be a little different.  But that is what we are here for.

I will mostly focus on death as it relates to our experience of losing someone, how we are touched by the death of others. 

I’ll give some practical advice on how to do what I talk about too… as theory is all well and good but it’s just nice ideas unless you know how to put it into practice. 

So… is there any joy to be found in death? A question that would be met by most, particularly those who have had deaths in their life, with a resounding no. No No No. Absolutely unequivocally no. 

And I would have completely agreed with you a few years ago. So please allow me to share a story with you. 

7 years ago now my father collapsed of a totally unexpected heart attack at home in NZ and died on the spot.  I got the call about his death from my mum a couple of hours later… and I was standing outside of my office in Australia with my suitcase waiting for a taxi to the airport, because I was already flying home to spend time with my nana, one of the most important people in my life, who was dying of cancer. Suffice to say Nana became my last priority. I arrived home to a panicking mother, a grief-stricken brother, a dead father, a mess.  That was just the beginning though. Lest she be forgotten, Nana almost died the day after my dad’s funeral. She ended up pulling through and dying 4 months later. And in the time in between we lost 4 other family members… so that when Nana died she made 6 deaths in 4 months for my family. 

To say that this period of time was hard, painful, confusing, life-changing – are all massive understatements. I often say I attended grief university. At times it was like a laughable black comedy. And I would laugh… because I was far too numb to cry. It felt like life had us all on the ground and was kicking us all in the guts… about every 3 weeks. It got to the point where I knew the damage was being done… but I couldn’t even feel the kicks anymore. These events ran into what were probably a couple of the hardest years of my life.  I thought it would never feel better. How could it? I thought I was stuck with this. I thought I would need a rolling subscription with my psychologist…. even thought the poor woman probably didn’t know what the heck to do with me. 

So when I say now that yes, yes absolutely yes – I see joy in death, then you should know that if I can find it… then potentially anyone can. I see now great beauty and meaning in death….these events to me now are not painful or negative – they are important and profound and they deserve a great deal of respect. 

Now this is not about positive thinking, focusing on the future or ignoring the past. It is not about ignoring or disowning any emotions or pain. But I am not going to talk about pain today… because what no-one needs from me is a talk on the sorrow of death. We have that part nailed.  We are experts at finding the sorrow. No-one needs my help seeing that. 

So if all this potential joy and beauty and meaning in death that I’m talking about… if it exists, why do most of us not see it?  Why didn’t I see it in the beginning?

Well the reason is not that it isn’t there. And it’s also not to do with the passing of time. There are lots of reasons why we don’t or can’t see anything good when we are touched by death but I’ll talk about the biggest in my opinion. 

The biggest reason we don’t see any good around death is that we are not open to it, we won’t permit ourselves to. We believe that death is bad and sad and that we don’t ever want it to happen to anyone we love… so the idea that there could be good can sound incredibly disrespectful. Indeed I’m sure many a person was horrified and took issue with the name of this festival. For many people it would push an immediate disgusted button and a wall would go up.

If we do see any good at all we might say, and only to certain people, ‘I know this sounds awful but……….’.   We know we aren’t supposed to be ok or appreciative or happy about anything that happens in death.

This is usually not a conscious thing we do… it is so ingrained in us to see only one side of death that it has become natural.

We believe it is respectful to see a death as totally tragic – we are even told that the pain we are in is a demonstration of love. (I get contacted by a lot of people worrying that they are heartless because they don’t hurt enough after a death).  We are meant to see only dark.  And so we block out the light without even realising it. 

Think of young children after a death. They will cry, then go and play and have fun, then cry again. As adults we can feel guilty having fun or laughing after a death.  It can feel disrespectful.

A kid might say ‘I’m really sad granddad died. I miss him. But it’s good that he can’t eat all the black jellybeans anymore because those are my favourite’. They see the bad… they also have an eye out for the good. And as adults how do we react to that?  ‘You mustn’t say that! That’s terrible. Don’t ever let your grandmother hear you say that’.  We teach them, just like we learnt, that there is nothing good to be seen in death.  That there is nothing to feel happy, relieved, or grateful about in death.

We learn that death is bad… and that it is inappropriate, that it is wrong, that it is disrespectful to view it any other way…….. so we block out the option of any other way. 

If you are not open at all to seeing something… you will not see it. 

Death is a normal natural part of our lives. Our lives begin and end.  Or at least this version of our lives if that makes more sense to you. As the last part of our life, as the last chapter in our stories, I believe that our deaths are very important – no matter how they happen. Because once they have happened, that has been written in stone – the ‘how you died’ cannot be changed. And for that reason I believe any death ought to be treated as important and valuable and with respect (and I said respect, not fear.  Huge difference though easily mistaken for each other around death).  Their death is part of someone’s life and it’s part of the story of who they were/who they are – and that makes it important. 

So first before we can find beauty or meaning or good in death we need to realise the repercussions of not seeing it. 

The memories in life that stay close to us, that we treasure, are the beautiful and meaningful ones.  They are the ones we see good in.  They are the ones that were worthwhile. Now often the death and loss of someone we love is a traumatic and painful memory. We don’t attribute anything good to it. 

Events that we only see as bad or ugly or wrong http://www.health-canada-pharmacy.com/strattera.html aren’t very meaningful to us or valuable or worthwhile.

And often death is seen as nothing but tragic. Now because we live in a society still very afraid to discuss or face death, people tend to live with the misguided belief that everyone we love, and ourselves, are guaranteed life till 95. Even though every day people die young, people die of illness, accident or disease. This is not at all uncommon.  But it is always seen as a tragedy and a shock..… so most of the time these events seem totally meaningless. Like they shouldn’t have happened. 

And when we take meaning from someone’s death… we take it from their life, because their death is a part of their life no matter how it happened.  The event is done – it can’t be changed, edited, undone.  To allow it to remain nothing but bad is to, without meaning to, dishonour the last chapter of someone’s life and to say it was for nothing.  We do not do this on purpose.  Generally we just don’t know any other way. 

When you can see even a little beauty in a death you honour them far more because then their death matters in a different way.  It can has a positive impact – instead of being responsible for ripping your life or your family’s lives apart – which no-one wants to be responsible for. And you can see that they were so amazing that even in their death they contributed to the lives of others in positive ways.  

Also when a memory is just painful to us we will eventually push it down – as humans we move away from pain, it’s a very practical element of our existence.  Over time we will stop thinking about painful memories. We like to focus on the good, to remember the happy times.  So when their death is nothing more than a bad memory we will generally block it out over time, and that is a part of their life and a part of them that we choose – either consciously or unconsciously – to block out. So we lose or give up parts of them in allowing their death to be just bad and sad and awful. 

A big part of someone’s legacy is the impact their death has on the people they love, and the world.  If they left a family torn to pieces, cursing the world, believing life and death are unfair, and unable to think about them without pain, – that is part of their legacy. 

It never sat right with me that my father’s legacy was supposed to be a family in pieces, unable to enjoy Christmas, or father’s day, or his birthday. A widow, two kids who were adults but still too young to say goodbye to their dad.  Not that man – no way. 

My dad’s legacy now? A wife who was shown strength, independence, intelligence, and a capability to do anything, that I don’t think she ever knew she had. A son who had the opportunity to step out of his father’s shadow and be the man of the family. A daughter who learnt her most beautiful and valuable lessons about life and death and who was led into work that inspired and fulfilled her more than she even imagined possible…. and the people she worked with who were able to share in that. He left a family not poorer from loss… but richer… and brought closer in a way that nothing else could have achieved. That is my dad’s legacy. That’s how amazing he was.  Even in his death did he contribute so much good to our lives. 

And that’s also how amazing any people you may have lost were. And this is what happens when you can find good in death. Let their legacy be bigger and even more spectacular.

This is what the joy of death looks like. 

So now hopefully we have a reason to be open to look for good in a death – for our sake and for the sake of the memories of those we have lost. 

So….. how the hell do you do it? How do you go about finding good? Particularly when all you see is pain and darkness.  But remember, that’s where I started too.

Well for starters… don’t go looking for ‘joy’ to start with. That can feel too big, too foreign, too impossible. Start small. With glimmers of good. Slivers of it.

It is like running a marathon. If you haven’t run, except for the bus, in 10 years you are not going to run a marathon tomorrow.  The idea will seem impossible, your body will not be at all prepared and it’s highly, highly unlikely you could do it. But you could go for a 10 minute jog tomorrow.  If I could convince you of why it’s good for your health and have you motivated and inspired to do it – you could do that. And then maybe another one 2 days after that. And maybe after 3 or 4 you’ll find you can run for 15 or 20 minutes.  Your body has some practise and it starts to open to the physical possibility.  It starts to open to what was not possible before.

It will build and build. Now you might find in those 10 minute runs you are still thinking ‘this is all very well…. but a marathon? I’ll never run a marathon’. Forget the marathon. Just focus on the 10 minute jog. One little run at a time. 

This is the same. Just look for one tiny good thing… then do it again. If you have never looked at death this way then start with the tiny jogs, the tiny good things. And let them build up. 

The question to ask yourself is what good came out of this death?   What good came out of this situation? Now the answers will be very different for every individual.I will give you some examples to get you thinking.  These are all real – based on my own experiences and those of people I’ve worked with.

If it was an illness did you get to share some special moment with them? Some words that you may not have shared under other circumstances?

Did this death teach you something valuable about life?

Did this death bring you closer to someone you love?

Did it change family dynamics?

Did it bring new relationships, friendships into your life?

Did it somehow free you of people you needed to be free of?

Did it create the space for you to do something new, to step up, or to be someone new?

Did you make a decision about something in your life that needed to change?

Did you find a new profession, a new calling, a new mission or purpose in life?

Did you find strength, compassion, wisdom, love in yourself that you did not know you had?

Did this start you on a new journey? There was a beautiful example of this last night. For those who heard Sarah Murray talk (at the awards ceremony) – she said, if I remember correctly, that only recently did someone point out to her that her dad’s death was the catalyst for the journey she took. Her journey, the book she wrote as a result, any person that was touched or helped by that book, every joy she experienced on her travels, every lesson learnt – all part of her father’s legacy. 

Do not say ‘but it was cancer’, ‘but they were young’, ‘but it was an awful car accident’, ‘but it was a suicide’, ‘but it was a murder’.  But but but but but.  I have worked with all of these scenarios…… and I can promise you there is always good to be found. So find it. For them. 

Start small…. and don’t invalidate the things you find by saying ‘but that doesn’t make up for it’, ‘but that doesn’t make it ok’. Remember…you are not running a marathon. Just a little jog. Find something good.

And when you do….. say thank you.  Even just a tiny thank you. Because you are acknowledging their legacy.  You are acknowledging what they left behind – let it be something that matters. 

We best honour someone who has died by seeing meaning and worth in every part of their lives. Don’t let any of it be a tragedy or a waste.  Don’t strip meaning from any part of who they were. 

My challenge to you today, if you choose to accept it, is to go away and try this. Just come up with one good thing. One tiny good thing. Then do it again in a couple of days.  But just start.  This is only one of the steps and it’s a small one, but I promise you… you do this and it will start to change the impact of this death on your life and your connection to and memories of the person or people you have lost, totally and amazingly.

Comments are back to where they are — anything you will say will appear instantly, unmoderated. Moderation will apply to commenters who have registered false email addresses and previously posted libellous or defamatory comments. 

 

Dead Good Culture?

1 October 2012
Charles
7 Comments
Categories: funeral directors

Posted by Simon Smith

What is affecting practices in the funeral industry and how can we improve them?

There has been a deluge of bad publicity for the funeral industry in recent weeks with the two programmes, Dispatches on Channel 4 and Exposure on ITV1. This was at least partly offset by the positive view of funeral directing portrayed in Dead Good Job, but we all cringe to see such awful behaviour and business practices and it is a great shame that the caring and diligent work done by so many is swept aside so easily by things that are wrong within our industry.

It is true that the bad practices were largely exposed in big companies, where the pressures on staff are often greatest to maximise profits and run ‘efficiently’, and where management is further from the daily work being undertaken, but there are lessons that can be learned throughout the sector.

There has been a great deal of sniping and blame within our industry, with funeral staff across the country pointing the finger and being “outraged” and “disgusted” by the behaviour of the staff who were filmed.  And no doubt they have been blamed and dealt with by the companies who employed them, who have been quick to claim these are isolated cases, presumably therefore rendering the management blameless.

I think we need to look at this more constructively and within a broader context. The big companies with outside shareholders and those with external investors such as venture capital companies put tremendous pressure on managers to squeeze the profits, because that is the only thing the investors are interested in. They have no idea what daily work is like and for them the investment is no more than a commodity to be traded in order to yield the highest possible return. Managers get ahead by running the most profitable units and staff, who may want to give families a more caring and time consuming service, fear for their jobs. Those people undertaking too many funerals every week inevitably become de-sensitised and hardened to their work, depersonalise it and protect themselves against the fact of facing your mortality each day, which is an uncomfortable reality of working in funerals. Most are poorly paid and given insufficient support to cope with the pressures and challenges they face. If you are not meeting the families and learning about the person who inhabited the body you are handling, your compassion isn’t being aroused by anything. If you are stressed and under pressure your compassion is supressed.I have worked in corporate culture change, and I have seen how quickly people leave their individual values at the door and take on the corporate ones. I have also worked in venture capital and I know the pressures these investment companies put on the companies to perform financially. The former business owners, who still own a chunk of the shares, stand to lose everything if they don’t meet their targets. They often wish they had remained independent and in charge of their own destinies.

The problems that have been recently highlighted by the TV programmes are systemic and driven by the company culture. Culture is the sum of the beliefs and values of the organisation, which then are translated into systems and behaviour. The beliefs and actions of the top management are followed all the way through the system. When what a manager says is not matched by their actions, staff know this immediately. When we call the company caring and then try and sell the families things they don’t really want, or deny them things that they do want because they aren’t profitable enough, staff feel betrayed. I believe that funeral directing is best suited to small companies because it keeps the work with families close to those making management decisions. At our small funeral directing company we each do everything. So when I am preparing a body, I know the people who love that person, I have heard stories about them. It makes it easy to care and to want to do the job as well as possible. The bigger companies somehow need to keep that ethos.

So in larger companies the management needs to work very hard to foster a genuine caring, compassionate and value-led culture. They need to have a zero tolerance policy not only on the kind of behaviour the programmes have highlighted, but also on the kind of pressure that encourages that behaviour and managers not walking their talk. Managers cannot point at the people below them and say it is their fault. Managers need to walk the floor, get involved in the work and lead by example. This is not just about knowledge and skills, but about attitudes. They need training to develop their own skills and attitudes, thereby passing those onto others. Funeral directing is a very complex and emotionally taxing job, requiring tender skills and an open heart. We are there to help families to create a funeral experience in which they can be involved and which has meaning for them, to provide information and support each family with creativity and improvisation. Each company has to develop a culture that supports these aims, and the systems that support the daily work.

Green Fuse and Chester Pearce Associates have created the Modern Funeral Directing training as a counter culture to the prescriptive style of training and education usually found in this sector. It advocates that attitudes and values are as important as knowledge and skills. It encourages people to think for themselves and to feel valued in their work. Funeral directors in charge of busy funeral homes and branches should consider this type of training and the importance of creating the right culture and attitudes in their companies. It is one way we can change things and avoid a repeat of the kind of behaviour we have seen. The funeral staff are the tip of the iceberg. The underlying problem is much deeper and must be tackled. Just launching an investigation and blaming individuals who have behaved badly is missing the point. Culture is subtle, it is translated into systems and behaviour without fail. What is the culture, the real culture not the nice words in the brochure, of your company? To find that out you need to study your company, what people say and what they do, very carefully.

Simon Smith is a director of Green Fuse Funerals, an independent funeral director and provider of training for Funeral Celebrants and Funeral Directors. Green Fuse was recently jointly awarded Funeral Director Of The Year 2012 by the Good Funeral Guide. He is author of Inner Leadership, and co-author of We Need To Talk About The Funeral. Previous to his funeral career Simon worked in venture capital with Charterhouse and then in leadership development and culture change, working with organisations including AstraZeneca, Parcelforce and parts of the NHS. He holds the Foundation Degree In Funeral Services from Bath University. Green Fuse runs a professional Funeral Celebrant Training and the ground breaking programme Modern Funeral Directing.

For more information visit www.greenfuse.co.uk  or call us on  01803 840779.

Trade association carrots and sticks

1 October 2012
Charles
No comments
Categories: National Association of Funeral Directors, SAIF

Posted by Richard Rawlinson

The annual subscription renewal request has arrived in my in-tray for the media association to which my publishing company employer belongs. What do we get for the membership fee? Aside from a glitzy awards ceremony and occasional parties enabling us to ‘network’ with amicable rivals, the association aims to support by giving tips on current practices that might boost revenue.

This advice comes in various guises. We’re sent a magazine focusing on industry news and media developments. Ironically, this publication was beaten by NAFD’s Funeral Director Monthly in the Magazine of the Year category of the Trade Association Forum’s 2012 Best Practice Awards. TAF is a trade association for trade associations!

Information is also forthcoming via forums where speakers lecture on new media trends, or via more practical tip-offs: I once had a call informing me the Masonic Association of Grand Lodges was inviting pitches from publishers for the tender of its membership journal. We politely declined as it wasn’t a natural fit with our existing portfolio and skill sets!

The point I’m leading to here is that trade associations can be in a tricky position if they’re expected to discipline rather than nurture their paying members. They tend to accentuate the positive and eliminate the negative, hoping members strive to follow the good examples. The media has a separate body for penal action, the Press Complaints Commission. And like the funeral industry, the media is largely self-regulating as bad practice should be bad for business.

But while any consumer of the media can lodge a complaint, what’s the best approach for consumers of the funeral industry? Their MP, the media, Citizens Advice? Or a UK equivalent of the US Funeral Consumers Alliance, a not-for-profit consumer advice and advocacy service? One good reason why GFG resists any tribal name-calling of the ‘I wish these conventional funeral directors weren’t here, this should only be for progressives’ variety. Whatever the consumer chooses, how they are served comes first. Go forth and multiply. 

A date for your diary

30 September 2012
Charles
4 Comments
Categories: Uncategorised

The Natural Death Centre Charity proudly presents

The NDC Death Café

2.30pm – 5.30pm

Sunday, 4th November

London NW2 6AA

(Willesden Green underground station)

A fundraising event celebrating the 21st birthday

of the Natural Death Centre

This Death Café will be held at the former office of the Natural Death

Centre and home of its founders, the late Nicholas Albery and Josefine

Speyer. It will be hosted by Josefine, along with Jon Underwood who

started Death Café in the UK in 2011, inspired by the ideas of Swiss

sociologist Bernard Crettaz.

Come and join us for a free flowing conversation around the topic of

death. Whilst sitting comfortably in a relaxed setting, drink tea and eat

delicious cake or sandwiches and enjoy an open, respectful and

confidential space for discussion, free of discrimination where people can

express their views safely.

To participate, please email a note to: josefine@josefinespeyer.com with

your name and phone number, how you heard about the event and any

special dietary requirements. She’ll send you an email to confirm your

place. Thanks!

The Natural Death Centre charity relies entirely

on donations and book sales. Your donation will go

towards paying for the free helpline and the day-today

running of the charity. Copies of the new edition

of the Natural Death Handbook will be on sale.

www.naturaldeath.org.uk

www.deathcafe.com

A syphilitic blister on the face of funeral service

29 September 2012
Charles
4 Comments
Categories: Co-operative Funeralcare, Dignity, Funeral Partners, LM Funerals

Dear Mr Greenfield,

This has been a horrible week for you. 

Or has it? 

You will have by now appraised your reputational vulnerability, conducted a jeopardy assessment and learned how many people watched The British Way of Death.  Taking heart from the recovery of Co-operative Funeralcare, you may be reckoning your best move is to lie low and wait for the storm to pass. 

You could get lucky. 

Judging by your combative response to the film, you are not a man to roll over easily. Your clear-eyed intellect and tenacity may have calmed your investors, and this may well have been your priority. But how’s your conscience? Do you feel shamed and dishonoured? You displayed no compassion towards those bereaved people who must live with what has been done to them. Your repeated apology, offered without reservation (whatever that means), lacked (I feel) the heartfelt sincerity with which an apology must necessarily be invested. 

You did not give the impression of a man suffering from either remorse or a trashed reputation. I can only put that down to a diminished sense of jeopardy. 

The film’s revelations call into question your competence to run a business. That must hurt. You repose much of your defence in company policies designed to prevent the conduct we witnessed. A policy, Mr Greenfield, is so much hot air, wishful thinking and bumf in a boxfile if it is not supported by a regime of compliance. 

I was unable to watch the film until two days after it was broadcast so I expected, having heard the views of others, to be angered by the behaviour of the staff at Gillman’s. I wasn’t, but I concede that mine is a minority opinion. I was saddened. I witnessed the behaviour of people whose personal standards had been, in my view, corrupted by the culture of their workplace – they had lost touch with decency and right conduct. I am inclined to suppose that a much better version of these same people might have been apparent had they been working for a firm whose vision, values and working conditions they bought into and were proud of, and whose insistence on high standards was reinforced by a rapid-response disciplinary framework. That you should have reckoned Merv Moyes a fit person to be general manager is beyond baffling. You’ve got some great people working for you. Don’t you know the difference? 

Can you tell us, Mr Greenfield, why you opted for brand invisibility? You know perfectly well that the FPL/FSP brand has virtually zero public recognition. The funeral industry is ripe and ready for a great brand to roll out a great service. As we like to say here, if John Lewis did funerals… 

An unexpected upside to the sullying of the good name of Roger Gillman is that any undertaker presently contemplating selling up would have to be mad to include their own name in the sale. So here’s a backhanded compliment: you have played an important part in the cause of transparency of ownership. 

I’ll finish with some reflections by Rory Sutherland on the price of a good reputation. This is extracted from something he wrote in the Spectator on 21 July 2012. Mr Sutherland is vice-chairman of Ogilvy Group UK.

Reputation acts as a kind of cashless deposit in human dealings. As any mafioso or game theorist knows, you can only trust people who have something to lose.

Look at where capitalism works best and you’ll find a business sensitive to shame. 

I recently arranged for my family to fly to the US. What struck me when I clicked ‘buy’ on the BA website is that I now feel less anxious when paying an airline a few thousand quid to hurtle my family across Arctic wastelands in a tin tube than I do when handing £2,000 to a financial institution. Why does the aviation industry make very little money doing something immensely complicated astoundingly well, while the finance sector makes a fortune doing a simple thing badly?

There are a few game-theoretic reasons to explain this. Reputation is one. When even a minor aviation incident occurs, it makes headlines. There is also a healthy sharing of risk. Unlike banks, airlines make the pilot sit at the front of the plane.

Intensifying consumer scrutiny, together with exposés like Undercover Undertaker and The British Way of Death, are contributing incrementally to enhancing the reputational vulnerability of undertakers, especially those stealth consolidators whose brand dares not speak its name.

Whereabouts are you sitting on your plane, Mr Greenfield? Yes, and you Mr Tinning? And you, Mr McCollum? And you, Ms Kemp?

 

 

Thoughts of a funeral-goer

28 September 2012
Charles
4 Comments
Categories: Uncategorised

Just over a week ago Daisy asked me to go with her to visit her neighbour John so we could help with the arrangements for his wife’s funeral.

Barely had we stepped across the threshold when Daisy disappeared down the hall with a cheery, ‘I’ll make us a nice cup of tea shall I?’

I followed John into the sitting room.  I pretended not to notice the hospital bed along one side.  With its dark blue pressure-relieving air mattress.

 ‘They’ll be collecting that soon.  In the next three days they said.  I’ll be so pleased when it’s gone.’ 

I nodded.  Why was Daisy taking so long? 

As if he could read my thoughts, he continued, ‘Daisy’s amazing isn’t she?  Popped in every day for a chat with Sandra.’

I nodded.  But my mind was elsewhere.  In my eagerness to help arrange a funeral, I hadn’t thought to ask Daisy about the circumstances of Sandra’s death.  I had assumed she’d been in hospital – but now it seemed that John had looked after her.

 ‘John, I hope you don’t mind me asking but where is Sandra?’

Glancing at the ceiling he replied, ‘In a better place I hope!  Or at least she will be when the funeral’s over.’

‘What I meant was…’

‘I know!  Just my little joke.  They came to take her away – ha ha!  Do you remember that song?  Sorry, I really think I might be losing the plot.’

 ‘So Sandra’s at a funeral home?  And they’re taking care of the funeral?’

 ‘Oh yes.  They’re just round the corner.  Perfect.  Couldn’t be doing with all that shopping around Daisy’s been going on about.  It just delays the inevitable.  I’m doing all the paperwork in the morning – if you and Daisy want to come with me, hold my hand, that sort of thing…’

In the blink of an eye we’d been demoted from funeral consultants to hand-holders.  Which was quite a relief, even though I agreed with Daisy about the need to shop around.  And snoop around too. 

I was just about to say, ‘It’s your funeral…’ when Daisy appeared with a pot of tea and a packet of HobNobs.

‘John was telling me he’s keen to finalise all the arrangements as soon as possible – we’re seeing the funeral director in the morning. ’ 

Fortunately, the funeral arranger was excellent so John needed hardly any advice from Daisy and me.  However, before John signed anything, I did insist on a tour of the premises.  Although, by then, unless he’d seen naked corpses piled up in the back yard, I don’t think anything would have put him off.  I also suggested that we make a separate visit to the florist rather than choose an arrangement from the catalogue.  The florist’s was only round the corner so John agreed.

The funeral took place on Wednesday at our local crematorium.

Yes, I was a little disappointed that John hadn’t taken his time.  But after the most traumatic and distressing six weeks of his life, that was the last thing he wanted.  And it really was a beautiful service.  The flowers, of course, looked stunning.  Even the retired minister (who came highly recommended) was wonderful.  Like John he was a down-to-earth Yorkshireman with a passion for cricket.  And, like John, he knew how it felt to hold hands with someone who was cherished and loved, whilst she was dying.

 

Statement from Phillip Greenfield Funeral Partners

27 September 2012
Charles
59 Comments
Categories: Funeral Partners

Phillip Greenfield, Chief Executive of Funeral Partners and owners of Gillman’s Funeral Directors who featured in last night’s Exposure programme of ‘The British Way of Death’ has made a video statement of the company’s response to the revelations.

The full text of what he says can be found on the Funeral Partners website here.

Two exposures of bad practice in the funeral industry in three months. The deeply shocking and utterly despicable behaviour of Gillman’s staff present a very specific issue, but we believe the two programmes expose the failure of two different versions of the corporatised funeral business, where the balance between service and profit has been lost.

When Funeralcare was exposed we made an offer to George Tinning to talk to and work with the Co-op to help them look again at customer service in their business and publicise their planned improvements.

We repeat the offer here to Funeral Partners: a great many people visit this website, this blog in particular. Doubtless you will, in the coming weeks and months, wish to get messages out to consumers which will restore their faith in Funeral Partners. We should be very happy to publicise these for you.

Is it fair to portray our funeral industry in this way?

26 September 2012
Charles
65 Comments
Categories: funeral directors, scandals

“That Funeral Director on your local High Street that looks like a trustworthy and caring family run business probably isn’t…this is an unregulated world in desperate need of reform.”

Fair comment?

You can read the ITV news http://www.honeytraveler.com/buy-propecia/account of the programme here. 

All responses welcome — we practise no censorship here. Please do not make a statement that might be libellous; the GFG will be sued for publishing it. 

Rum do in the valleys

26 September 2012
Charles
3 Comments
Categories: funeral directors

A burglar is engaged in his work of ransacking a chapel wherein lies a dead person awaiting their funeral. He is disturbed, mid-rampage, by the arrival of the undertaker coming to get everything ready for the service. The burglar, panicked, attempts to climb into the coffin…

What happens next? Read the unlikely, unsavoury and true story over at Wales Online.