Contrary to popular belief, the BHA regularly takes on new funeral celebrants.
If there is evidence to the contrary, this is because local celebrants resist someone new on their patch (but that is a post for another day).
As I’m now nearly at 200 ceremonies under my belt and I inevitably end up training, no matter what job I do, I thought I would become a trainer for the BHA.
I had to apply and go through a selection process (which was more nerve-wracking than I think that it needed to be, but a useful exercise) and I have now completed the first training sessions for the latest group.
They’re a good bunch, keen as mustard, well read, very thoughtful and keen to listen to others. Looking back, I’m not convinced that my own intake group was as strong, but hey ho. I think that the selection process has improved and so before we waste the trainees and our own time and money, more weeding is done.
The training has been great fun and, as I’ve always found in the past, one learns as much as one teaches in these situations. Candidates come up with readings, music and experiences that are new to me, as well as turns of phrase or outlooks that are refreshing.
And, of course, they send me their sample funerals to mark, so I can nick all of these lovely phrases and poems, adding to my own collections (never let it be said that I’m entirely altruistic!).
In a way, the training is a frustrating exercise – how much can we actually teach these good people? Can anyone really learn to be a funeral celebrant?
We can help with logistics and technical stuff (“this is how Wesley works”, “most FDs like to do…”) and we can share our experience. But ultimately, it is our individuality that makes us good at what we do and that cannot be trained.
And what of the non-technical side of things (“you may not want to take your holidays in February”)?
As with all things, it’s a function of getting the balance right. We are trying to develop a professional network with high standards (a rubbish humanist celebrant makes us all look bad), but how do we maintain those standards without producing “standard” funerals? And the day we start doing that, is the day I leave the network.
A good funeral is the one that the family wants; all we can do is try our hardest to give our trainees the tools, resources, guidance and mentoring to do that. And, of course, the support they need when they’re up and running.
It’s been fun and I look forward to doing more of it.
Monday, 28 June 2010
Monday, 14 June 2010
Standing on the shoulders of giants
Charles had a great guest post from Rupert.
Gloria, wishing to give it the full response it deserved, put a fab post on her blog.
I was going to make a comment, but found that, like Gloria, I had a lot that I wanted to say. If anyone is interested, here's my tuppence worth. Thanks for the debate. It isn't always comfortable but, my goodness, it's fascinating!
So, although Gloria wants to move on from funerals, I'm happy to stick with them for the time being, if anyone else wants to join in.
Rupert’s post was fantastic, as was Jonathan’s response (I was glad and relieved to see the “we can’t all do it the same way”). This has been extremely thought provoking and I hope that we will all produce better ceremonies on the strength of it.
1) Titles – according to my dictionary (a Collins, sorry, I was never posh) definition 6 of the word “minister” is “a person who attends to the needs of others, esp. in religious matters”. So why not be humanist/atheist/secular/free-thinking ministers? We often get called it anyway, so why not adopt it?
2) Combining celebrancy and undertaking - I too would struggle with many aspects of undertaking, and agree that not many could do both roles. Good for Rupert that he can.
3) Letting families see the words before the ceremony - When families are feeling out of control, as many are after a death, they like to have some control over what we’re doing, and viewing the words can be a way of giving that to them. I rarely send the whole script, but I often send the tribute/eulogy part. However, at the end of the meeting, I usually go back through my notes. Not only can I check that I have details correct, but the family can also understand that they have been listened to. Most find this extra ten minutes or so at the end of the meeting very reassuring.
4) How honest should we be? - I agree with GloriaMundi and Jonathan that the euphemisms can be useful. Perhaps we are colluding and I always resist turning the deceased into a saint, but the funeral doesn’t have to be the time for hanging out dirty laundry, unless the family are finding it cathartic and useful. Yes, we can observe what we see and, as others have stated, the balance is everything.
5) Humanists are Anti-theists according to Rupert. Gloria, you are so right. We’re not all Richard Bloody Dawkins! (Okay, your response was much more eloquent than this). Many humanists hate fundamentalism in all of its forms.
6) Time allowed for a ceremony - Sometimes twenty minutes is too long. Sometimes a double time slot at the end of the day is not enough. That’s one of the things that we’re there for. Getting it all in without feeling rushed; that’s the ticket. And again, some families just want the damn thing over with. “Ten minutes will be fine” they say. Who am I to pad it out with a full rendition of The Glory of the Garden and the whole of The Lark Ascending? I try to talk them through all of the options, but if they want short and sweet, it’s what they’ll have.
7) Untrained/unindoctrinated? - I agree that training helped in the initial stages. It also helps us to give FDs and families some confidence that we do know what we’re doing (otherwise the AOIC would not have spent a lot of time recently promoting their diploma). Of course, there are untrained celebrants who are brilliant, and trained ones who are sh…not. Not sure what the answer is on that one, but glad that I had something to work with and grow from. I guess it’s a bit like learning to drive. Once you’ve passed your test you’re safe to be let out there, but you really learn to drive when you’ve got a few miles under your wheels.
8) How much sorrow? – It’s a difficult one. I sometimes worry that I don’t put people “through the wringer” enough. Ultimately, as Jonathan says, we can’t feel others’ pain or know what they are feeling. My own experiences of grief have been quite private, only really allowing myself to be overwhelmed when alone. Maybe this says more about me than I would like.
8a) How much emotion should we show? I don’t think it matters if we are showing that we are hurting or saddened by the circumstances. But by the same token, we are there (and being paid) to do a job and part of that is to keep control of proceedings. Again, it’s getting the balance right that matters.
9) Public or private event? Sometimes either, sometimes both. It depends where the family members are in their grieving. We have to be able to do all three.
10) Breaking the mask to allow the grief through? – No Gloria, I don’t think that you’re being cowardly or too modest. We are there, as I said above, to conduct a ceremony. We aspire to do that with understanding of all of the above, with the sensitivity that our own personalities and experiences bring, and providing the ceremony that the family wants. We try to assess whether they want something that will have everyone howling with sorrow, crying with laughter or something in between. I admire Rupert’s stance (and would love to attend one of his ceremonies, as I am sure that they are magnificent), but I would wonder if they suit everybody? Some families want the shallow ceremony – who are we to say that we are wrong. Yes, we should always try to do more than they want, to surprise them (in a good way) by adding that something extra that helps them grieve, but we are not there to tell them how to do it.
Reading these blogs have made me feel as though I am a really crap celebrant/officiant/minister (especially after the day I've had), but I'm glad that I can read them as they are making me a better one.
Thank you
Gloria, wishing to give it the full response it deserved, put a fab post on her blog.
I was going to make a comment, but found that, like Gloria, I had a lot that I wanted to say. If anyone is interested, here's my tuppence worth. Thanks for the debate. It isn't always comfortable but, my goodness, it's fascinating!
So, although Gloria wants to move on from funerals, I'm happy to stick with them for the time being, if anyone else wants to join in.
Rupert’s post was fantastic, as was Jonathan’s response (I was glad and relieved to see the “we can’t all do it the same way”). This has been extremely thought provoking and I hope that we will all produce better ceremonies on the strength of it.
1) Titles – according to my dictionary (a Collins, sorry, I was never posh) definition 6 of the word “minister” is “a person who attends to the needs of others, esp. in religious matters”. So why not be humanist/atheist/secular/free-thinking ministers? We often get called it anyway, so why not adopt it?
2) Combining celebrancy and undertaking - I too would struggle with many aspects of undertaking, and agree that not many could do both roles. Good for Rupert that he can.
3) Letting families see the words before the ceremony - When families are feeling out of control, as many are after a death, they like to have some control over what we’re doing, and viewing the words can be a way of giving that to them. I rarely send the whole script, but I often send the tribute/eulogy part. However, at the end of the meeting, I usually go back through my notes. Not only can I check that I have details correct, but the family can also understand that they have been listened to. Most find this extra ten minutes or so at the end of the meeting very reassuring.
4) How honest should we be? - I agree with GloriaMundi and Jonathan that the euphemisms can be useful. Perhaps we are colluding and I always resist turning the deceased into a saint, but the funeral doesn’t have to be the time for hanging out dirty laundry, unless the family are finding it cathartic and useful. Yes, we can observe what we see and, as others have stated, the balance is everything.
5) Humanists are Anti-theists according to Rupert. Gloria, you are so right. We’re not all Richard Bloody Dawkins! (Okay, your response was much more eloquent than this). Many humanists hate fundamentalism in all of its forms.
6) Time allowed for a ceremony - Sometimes twenty minutes is too long. Sometimes a double time slot at the end of the day is not enough. That’s one of the things that we’re there for. Getting it all in without feeling rushed; that’s the ticket. And again, some families just want the damn thing over with. “Ten minutes will be fine” they say. Who am I to pad it out with a full rendition of The Glory of the Garden and the whole of The Lark Ascending? I try to talk them through all of the options, but if they want short and sweet, it’s what they’ll have.
7) Untrained/unindoctrinated? - I agree that training helped in the initial stages. It also helps us to give FDs and families some confidence that we do know what we’re doing (otherwise the AOIC would not have spent a lot of time recently promoting their diploma). Of course, there are untrained celebrants who are brilliant, and trained ones who are sh…not. Not sure what the answer is on that one, but glad that I had something to work with and grow from. I guess it’s a bit like learning to drive. Once you’ve passed your test you’re safe to be let out there, but you really learn to drive when you’ve got a few miles under your wheels.
8) How much sorrow? – It’s a difficult one. I sometimes worry that I don’t put people “through the wringer” enough. Ultimately, as Jonathan says, we can’t feel others’ pain or know what they are feeling. My own experiences of grief have been quite private, only really allowing myself to be overwhelmed when alone. Maybe this says more about me than I would like.
8a) How much emotion should we show? I don’t think it matters if we are showing that we are hurting or saddened by the circumstances. But by the same token, we are there (and being paid) to do a job and part of that is to keep control of proceedings. Again, it’s getting the balance right that matters.
9) Public or private event? Sometimes either, sometimes both. It depends where the family members are in their grieving. We have to be able to do all three.
10) Breaking the mask to allow the grief through? – No Gloria, I don’t think that you’re being cowardly or too modest. We are there, as I said above, to conduct a ceremony. We aspire to do that with understanding of all of the above, with the sensitivity that our own personalities and experiences bring, and providing the ceremony that the family wants. We try to assess whether they want something that will have everyone howling with sorrow, crying with laughter or something in between. I admire Rupert’s stance (and would love to attend one of his ceremonies, as I am sure that they are magnificent), but I would wonder if they suit everybody? Some families want the shallow ceremony – who are we to say that we are wrong. Yes, we should always try to do more than they want, to surprise them (in a good way) by adding that something extra that helps them grieve, but we are not there to tell them how to do it.
Reading these blogs have made me feel as though I am a really crap celebrant/officiant/minister (especially after the day I've had), but I'm glad that I can read them as they are making me a better one.
Thank you
I think I know how Rob Green feels
I'm in the middle of a bad week.
Firstly, my favourite FD has sold his business. It was a lovely, small co; he ran a place on one side of town, his partner ran a similar place on the other and they pooled a few resources between them. Of course, I wish him a long and happy retirement, but I shall miss him. He's a nice guy - one of those chaps that the families always praise when I visit them. And he and his partner have sold to a local chain; I don't yet know which one, but I have my suspicions. I'm sure that they will also do their best for their clients, but I feel the icy finger of "corporate", which worries me. I understand that my mate (who, incidentally, was the first FD to give me any work) will be around for a few months, but it still makes me sad that he'll be off after that.
Secondly, I had a weird moment. I met a family to help look after their Mum's arrangement. When I was asking how I should address Mum in the ceremony, they said a word that's not a name......except it was also my Mum's nickname! I had to explain to them why I looked so shocked when they said it, after all, I had never expected to do a ceremony with that name. It was also weird writing "I didn't have the pleasure of knowing......", and using my Mum's name because clearly, I did know her, and it's thanks to her contribution to the gene pool that I have a lifelong battle with facial hair. (TMI? Sorry, I like to share).
Thirdly, and this is the kicker, I've just come home from a nearby crem. It's taken until ceremony number 192, but I have finally reached the moment I've been expecting and dreading, the "funeral-ruining moment that's all my fault."
I had been told that the family wanted the curtains left open. When I double checked with them at the meeting, we decided that we would have the committal right at the end and, in my head, this meant close the curtains on the way out.
The ceremony went well, contributors spoke well, there was music, the eulogy was well received. Then, right at the end, as I'm saying my words of committal, I pressed the button and the curtains started to close.
"X.Piry. Can you stop the curtains" said the chief mourner. Unfortunately, on that particular lectern there is no return switch.
I apologised, of course, and as soon as I had left the chapel, the attendant went and opened them again (I now know where that particular button is), so that the family etc could have their moment with the coffin. But I felt absolutely dreadful.
In many ways, I was very lucky. This was a relatively calm family, and the gent who had died had lived a long and full life with a few months of illness at the end. If there had been people in the hysterical stages of grief, it would have been even more awful. I apologised to everyone, and folks (including the family) still said nice things about the ceremony, but I could have kicked myself.
When I make a mistake, I always try to take something positive from it, things I could do to stop it recurring and to make it better if it does happen again. Well, I can do the latter, as my final closing words were rather swallowed in the confusion. I should have read them all again to let people hear them.
But could I stop this happening again? I need to make my notes clearer; cross out for change of mind and underline for "yes, that's definitely what they want". I already check and double check, so a triple check might work, but ultimately, I'd got the idea in my head, so may not have believed my own notes, no matter how many times I'd read them.
So, all in all, I'm feeling extremely upset and cross with myself. It could have been a lot worse, but it could have been better. Ultimately, I know I've got to learn from it and move on, but I fear complacency, hence my legendary ability to beat myself up.
I think I will make a contribution to the family's collection - as an apology, rather than an attempt to right the situation with money. Apart from that, what can I do?
I must be like Robert Green, the ball went into the goal and it was my fault. But I've come home to emails about the next ceremonies and I can't let this mistake ruin more than one funeral. I've got to pick myself up, and make sure that my arm is in the right place for the save in the second half.
It's the only way I can still get picked as no 1.
Thank you for listening.
Firstly, my favourite FD has sold his business. It was a lovely, small co; he ran a place on one side of town, his partner ran a similar place on the other and they pooled a few resources between them. Of course, I wish him a long and happy retirement, but I shall miss him. He's a nice guy - one of those chaps that the families always praise when I visit them. And he and his partner have sold to a local chain; I don't yet know which one, but I have my suspicions. I'm sure that they will also do their best for their clients, but I feel the icy finger of "corporate", which worries me. I understand that my mate (who, incidentally, was the first FD to give me any work) will be around for a few months, but it still makes me sad that he'll be off after that.
Secondly, I had a weird moment. I met a family to help look after their Mum's arrangement. When I was asking how I should address Mum in the ceremony, they said a word that's not a name......except it was also my Mum's nickname! I had to explain to them why I looked so shocked when they said it, after all, I had never expected to do a ceremony with that name. It was also weird writing "I didn't have the pleasure of knowing......", and using my Mum's name because clearly, I did know her, and it's thanks to her contribution to the gene pool that I have a lifelong battle with facial hair. (TMI? Sorry, I like to share).
Thirdly, and this is the kicker, I've just come home from a nearby crem. It's taken until ceremony number 192, but I have finally reached the moment I've been expecting and dreading, the "funeral-ruining moment that's all my fault."
I had been told that the family wanted the curtains left open. When I double checked with them at the meeting, we decided that we would have the committal right at the end and, in my head, this meant close the curtains on the way out.
The ceremony went well, contributors spoke well, there was music, the eulogy was well received. Then, right at the end, as I'm saying my words of committal, I pressed the button and the curtains started to close.
"X.Piry. Can you stop the curtains" said the chief mourner. Unfortunately, on that particular lectern there is no return switch.
I apologised, of course, and as soon as I had left the chapel, the attendant went and opened them again (I now know where that particular button is), so that the family etc could have their moment with the coffin. But I felt absolutely dreadful.
In many ways, I was very lucky. This was a relatively calm family, and the gent who had died had lived a long and full life with a few months of illness at the end. If there had been people in the hysterical stages of grief, it would have been even more awful. I apologised to everyone, and folks (including the family) still said nice things about the ceremony, but I could have kicked myself.
When I make a mistake, I always try to take something positive from it, things I could do to stop it recurring and to make it better if it does happen again. Well, I can do the latter, as my final closing words were rather swallowed in the confusion. I should have read them all again to let people hear them.
But could I stop this happening again? I need to make my notes clearer; cross out for change of mind and underline for "yes, that's definitely what they want". I already check and double check, so a triple check might work, but ultimately, I'd got the idea in my head, so may not have believed my own notes, no matter how many times I'd read them.
So, all in all, I'm feeling extremely upset and cross with myself. It could have been a lot worse, but it could have been better. Ultimately, I know I've got to learn from it and move on, but I fear complacency, hence my legendary ability to beat myself up.
I think I will make a contribution to the family's collection - as an apology, rather than an attempt to right the situation with money. Apart from that, what can I do?
I must be like Robert Green, the ball went into the goal and it was my fault. But I've come home to emails about the next ceremonies and I can't let this mistake ruin more than one funeral. I've got to pick myself up, and make sure that my arm is in the right place for the save in the second half.
It's the only way I can still get picked as no 1.
Thank you for listening.
Saturday, 8 May 2010
Apologies for lack of posting
I'm sorry for the long gap since my last post.
I don't like to make excuses (and this may sound like either bragging or complaining - neither intended), but in the last seven weeks, I've taken 25 funerals. This has been quite a "purple patch" for me, but it has meant that I haven't raised my head above the parapet much.
They've been a mixed bag; including a couple of people that I had previously met - one because I had done a ceremony for her husband just a few months ago. I know that "broken heart syndrome" is not uncommon, but this person was not a candidate as far as I could tell. The other was a lady who knew that she had a terminal illness and so called me a few months ago as she wanted to arrange her funeral.
This was a bit weird, but is something that we get asked to do. I was a little surprised not to meet her family too, but that was her choice. Given that control of her life had been taken away from her, then it's perhaps not surprising that she wanted to have some power over her funeral.
However, this meant that the control was taken away from those who usually have it. After the lady had died and I went to meet her husband and children, I felt a distinct chill and I don't blame them. No doubt my lady felt that she was "saving them the worry" as well as making sure that she had the music etc that she wanted. She had also left time for them to make their tributes and say their pieces, but still, they seemed a little adrift. The lady had died quicker than anticipated, due to complications with her illness, so that was likely to be a factor.
Looking back, I wish we'd done this differently, but what could I do? I can advise, I can suggest and I can give examples. But I am not there to tell people what to do, and if this lady wanted to take care of it all, I either had to go along with it or walk away.
I'm feeling pretty tired at the moment. I realise that to some (especially those who work to a more fixed ceremony structure), then I probably seem like a complete wimp and making a fuss about what is, after all, about 3 1/2 ceremonies a week. However, with other bits of work that I do, and the amount of time it can take to visit a family, write the ceremony, check it and then deliver it, the last couple of months has been an exercise in time management. It got to the point where if I had the words prepared, my clothes ironed and ready, the cat fed, and I hadn't run out of milk, then I considered myself ahead of the game.
I'm not asking for sympathy; this is my job, after all. I'm just explaining my absence (and lack of activity on other blogs) in the hope that anyone cares.
Off on my hols for a week, after another little adventure (details to follow in a later post), so I hope that all are healthy and happy, that the sun is shining on you and that the Icelandic ash doesn't prevent me sitting by a pool in a Mediterranean Resort.
Good vibes to all
I don't like to make excuses (and this may sound like either bragging or complaining - neither intended), but in the last seven weeks, I've taken 25 funerals. This has been quite a "purple patch" for me, but it has meant that I haven't raised my head above the parapet much.
They've been a mixed bag; including a couple of people that I had previously met - one because I had done a ceremony for her husband just a few months ago. I know that "broken heart syndrome" is not uncommon, but this person was not a candidate as far as I could tell. The other was a lady who knew that she had a terminal illness and so called me a few months ago as she wanted to arrange her funeral.
This was a bit weird, but is something that we get asked to do. I was a little surprised not to meet her family too, but that was her choice. Given that control of her life had been taken away from her, then it's perhaps not surprising that she wanted to have some power over her funeral.
However, this meant that the control was taken away from those who usually have it. After the lady had died and I went to meet her husband and children, I felt a distinct chill and I don't blame them. No doubt my lady felt that she was "saving them the worry" as well as making sure that she had the music etc that she wanted. She had also left time for them to make their tributes and say their pieces, but still, they seemed a little adrift. The lady had died quicker than anticipated, due to complications with her illness, so that was likely to be a factor.
Looking back, I wish we'd done this differently, but what could I do? I can advise, I can suggest and I can give examples. But I am not there to tell people what to do, and if this lady wanted to take care of it all, I either had to go along with it or walk away.
I'm feeling pretty tired at the moment. I realise that to some (especially those who work to a more fixed ceremony structure), then I probably seem like a complete wimp and making a fuss about what is, after all, about 3 1/2 ceremonies a week. However, with other bits of work that I do, and the amount of time it can take to visit a family, write the ceremony, check it and then deliver it, the last couple of months has been an exercise in time management. It got to the point where if I had the words prepared, my clothes ironed and ready, the cat fed, and I hadn't run out of milk, then I considered myself ahead of the game.
I'm not asking for sympathy; this is my job, after all. I'm just explaining my absence (and lack of activity on other blogs) in the hope that anyone cares.
Off on my hols for a week, after another little adventure (details to follow in a later post), so I hope that all are healthy and happy, that the sun is shining on you and that the Icelandic ash doesn't prevent me sitting by a pool in a Mediterranean Resort.
Good vibes to all
Wednesday, 17 March 2010
Something positive
I realise that I usually complain a lot on this blog.
However, I have the story of an absolutely cracking funeral. And I'm not being immodest. One of the reasons that it was so great was that I had very little to do with it!
The deceased was a singer who had reached a good age. His son is the most organised man on the planet. He arranged the whole thing, we had running orders, he'd lined up the contributors, and, following our discussions, we'd even allowed some contingencies if the contributors ran over time. We had a double time slot, and he had been to the venue at least twice to check out the location, the sound system and anything else he wanted to know (even how long the curtains take to close...). This was a great case of the family taking as much control of the funeral as they wanted. The FD and I simply stood by and acted on our instructions.
This man (the son) has a great energy and dynamism about him, and so although the control freak in me usually resists being told what to do, I just didn't mind in this case.
And it worked beautifully. The music sounded great. We didn't get to have the "open mic" slot we'd hoped for when folks could stand up and say what they wanted, because of time constraints, but that was our contingency. They were all off to a great celebration afterwards, so no doubt many stories were being shared there.
Never have I had so much praise for doing so little. Yes, I still gave a lot of time and consideration to the bits that I was saying (finding the right quotes, etc), but in comparison with many ceremonies, I didn't have to do as much. The tributes were all coming from the family and friends who knew the gent, I was just audience and button presser.
So many people afterwards said "That's what I want...." which is very gratifying (although they will need to get the gent's son involved, as he was the one who did it all). I was just the MC, the Assistant Stage Manager, the gob on a stick.
It was an honour and a privilege to do.
Apologies
I would like to apologise to Rupert who, accurately, chastised me for not responding to his comments. I have now responded to his direct question by email and I would like to apologise for my rudeness.
I don't always reply to comments on the blog - although it's my blog, I don't want it ever to be a place where folks may want to comment (particularly if they disagree with me) and feel that they can't because I'm going to come back arguing.
However, I am very grateful to all who read it and who take the time to comment - it is appreciated, even if I don't make that plain.
However, I have the story of an absolutely cracking funeral. And I'm not being immodest. One of the reasons that it was so great was that I had very little to do with it!
The deceased was a singer who had reached a good age. His son is the most organised man on the planet. He arranged the whole thing, we had running orders, he'd lined up the contributors, and, following our discussions, we'd even allowed some contingencies if the contributors ran over time. We had a double time slot, and he had been to the venue at least twice to check out the location, the sound system and anything else he wanted to know (even how long the curtains take to close...). This was a great case of the family taking as much control of the funeral as they wanted. The FD and I simply stood by and acted on our instructions.
This man (the son) has a great energy and dynamism about him, and so although the control freak in me usually resists being told what to do, I just didn't mind in this case.
And it worked beautifully. The music sounded great. We didn't get to have the "open mic" slot we'd hoped for when folks could stand up and say what they wanted, because of time constraints, but that was our contingency. They were all off to a great celebration afterwards, so no doubt many stories were being shared there.
Never have I had so much praise for doing so little. Yes, I still gave a lot of time and consideration to the bits that I was saying (finding the right quotes, etc), but in comparison with many ceremonies, I didn't have to do as much. The tributes were all coming from the family and friends who knew the gent, I was just audience and button presser.
So many people afterwards said "That's what I want...." which is very gratifying (although they will need to get the gent's son involved, as he was the one who did it all). I was just the MC, the Assistant Stage Manager, the gob on a stick.
It was an honour and a privilege to do.
Apologies
I would like to apologise to Rupert who, accurately, chastised me for not responding to his comments. I have now responded to his direct question by email and I would like to apologise for my rudeness.
I don't always reply to comments on the blog - although it's my blog, I don't want it ever to be a place where folks may want to comment (particularly if they disagree with me) and feel that they can't because I'm going to come back arguing.
However, I am very grateful to all who read it and who take the time to comment - it is appreciated, even if I don't make that plain.
Tuesday, 9 March 2010
Is it common to talk about money?
I've just had a conversation with a funeral arranger that has left me feeling uncomfortable.
I opened my cheque from this company, to find that they had paid me last year's fee. Mine went up at the beginning of this year. I rang to say that it wasn't a problem, but please could they amend my records to reflect the new figure?
It would appear that the answer is "no".
The reason is that my fee is more than £10 higher than the local clergy. Now, I'm not in the business of promoting myself by criticizing others, but what I didn't say is that each of my ceremonies is composed from scratch, word by word. Yes, there are some readings and ideas that are universal and get re-used, but they are all re-written for the individual concerned - I don't have a standard service to follow.
I am aware that the best clergy also personalise everything and spend a great deal of time with their families and that there are probably bad humanists who just knock out their standard service without much thought (if there are, then people should complain - I don't want such people giving us all a bad name). But I take my work very seriously, I invest a lot of time in each ceremony and I don't think that what I get as an hourly rate is particularly high, when the full amount of time that each one takes, from start to finish, is taken into account. It's not as though anyone becomes a celebrant to get rich!
I also didn't talk about the ceremonies that I don't charge for (such as the ones for the very small people).
I'm not much of a negotiator (as you can tell), so I more or less backed down right away. I'm still sufficiently new at this that the fear of losing work is greater than the fear of losing a few quid.
But now I feel like the stuff I clear from the litter tray.
At best, I will lose a few quid each time I work for this FD, but, at worst, I won't work for this FD again and will get known as a money grabber. (Forgive me, I have an active imagination and occasional paranoia).
I wish I hadn't made the call now, but I guess that it's better to talk about this stuff then not.
The arranger said that he had received some very good feedback about my work and was happy to recommend me, but was worried about pushing my services when my fee is so much more and funerals are already so expensive. Yes, they are, and in the scheme of things my fee is a very small proportion when the family also has a limousine and flowers and.....
I'll get over it; I always do. I'll go and see the arranger and make sure that we're still friends. It wasn't an angry call on either side, but it has left me with a nasty taste in my mouth.
Ah well.....onwards.
I opened my cheque from this company, to find that they had paid me last year's fee. Mine went up at the beginning of this year. I rang to say that it wasn't a problem, but please could they amend my records to reflect the new figure?
It would appear that the answer is "no".
The reason is that my fee is more than £10 higher than the local clergy. Now, I'm not in the business of promoting myself by criticizing others, but what I didn't say is that each of my ceremonies is composed from scratch, word by word. Yes, there are some readings and ideas that are universal and get re-used, but they are all re-written for the individual concerned - I don't have a standard service to follow.
I am aware that the best clergy also personalise everything and spend a great deal of time with their families and that there are probably bad humanists who just knock out their standard service without much thought (if there are, then people should complain - I don't want such people giving us all a bad name). But I take my work very seriously, I invest a lot of time in each ceremony and I don't think that what I get as an hourly rate is particularly high, when the full amount of time that each one takes, from start to finish, is taken into account. It's not as though anyone becomes a celebrant to get rich!
I also didn't talk about the ceremonies that I don't charge for (such as the ones for the very small people).
I'm not much of a negotiator (as you can tell), so I more or less backed down right away. I'm still sufficiently new at this that the fear of losing work is greater than the fear of losing a few quid.
But now I feel like the stuff I clear from the litter tray.
At best, I will lose a few quid each time I work for this FD, but, at worst, I won't work for this FD again and will get known as a money grabber. (Forgive me, I have an active imagination and occasional paranoia).
I wish I hadn't made the call now, but I guess that it's better to talk about this stuff then not.
The arranger said that he had received some very good feedback about my work and was happy to recommend me, but was worried about pushing my services when my fee is so much more and funerals are already so expensive. Yes, they are, and in the scheme of things my fee is a very small proportion when the family also has a limousine and flowers and.....
I'll get over it; I always do. I'll go and see the arranger and make sure that we're still friends. It wasn't an angry call on either side, but it has left me with a nasty taste in my mouth.
Ah well.....onwards.
Wednesday, 3 March 2010
Shortchanging the dead - update
Many thanks for the kind comments to the previous post.
Well, we're through the other side and I'm delighted to say that it went....okay....ish. Or at least better than expected.
I wish I'd read Charles's comments earlier - I did as he suggested but not, I feel, as eloquently as he would.
I put in lots of thoughts on life and death, our connectionswith others, how the deceased will live on through the family and memories of those who love him....
I explained that humanist funerals can include tributes to the deceased, but in this case, his family had asked that those present be given time to think about him and to reflect upon what made him special to them (I'm paraphrasing, but you get the drift.....)
What actually saved us today was nothing to do with me (of course), it was the music. The family had chosen pieces which hadn't looked promising on paper, but they actually worked really well.
It wasn't a long service and I still feel it would have been better with a fuller tribute, but it didn't turn into the train wreck that I'd been fearing and for that, I'm glad.
I didn't get quite my usual quota of handshakes and "thank you very much" afterwards, but the fact that I got any was a pleasant surprise.
Ultimately, the dignity and the very nature of the occasion seemed to win out.; egos were put aside (hopefully mine, too), and there were expressions of sorrow, but not anger. It was all pleasantly calm. Now, whether or not that's the right way to grieve? I'm no psychologist, but it did mean that the whole thing passed off without aggravation and additional upset. There had been enough of that already. I'm glad that there was some resting in peace.
Well, we're through the other side and I'm delighted to say that it went....okay....ish. Or at least better than expected.
I wish I'd read Charles's comments earlier - I did as he suggested but not, I feel, as eloquently as he would.
I put in lots of thoughts on life and death, our connectionswith others, how the deceased will live on through the family and memories of those who love him....
I explained that humanist funerals can include tributes to the deceased, but in this case, his family had asked that those present be given time to think about him and to reflect upon what made him special to them (I'm paraphrasing, but you get the drift.....)
What actually saved us today was nothing to do with me (of course), it was the music. The family had chosen pieces which hadn't looked promising on paper, but they actually worked really well.
It wasn't a long service and I still feel it would have been better with a fuller tribute, but it didn't turn into the train wreck that I'd been fearing and for that, I'm glad.
I didn't get quite my usual quota of handshakes and "thank you very much" afterwards, but the fact that I got any was a pleasant surprise.
Ultimately, the dignity and the very nature of the occasion seemed to win out.; egos were put aside (hopefully mine, too), and there were expressions of sorrow, but not anger. It was all pleasantly calm. Now, whether or not that's the right way to grieve? I'm no psychologist, but it did mean that the whole thing passed off without aggravation and additional upset. There had been enough of that already. I'm glad that there was some resting in peace.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)