The Cynical Career Counsellor Explains Your Career As

A Mortician

Hi kid, nice makeup--you like that movie "The Crow", right? What's that? A mortician? Hmm--never had anyone ask about that before. Okay, here's what I figure you can expect:

First of all, you'll need to apprentice somewhere. You'll probably learn about all the aspects of the trade--embalming, caskets, burial plots, memorial services and government bureaucracy. There's lots of money to be made in grief--that's why there's some huge corporations in the business of planting people--but you need to approach it in the right way. An acting class or two, to help disguise your hangovers as you wring your hands in "shared grief" might be helpful.

As an apprentice, you get to do one of the most underrated jobs in the funeral business--driving the hearse. It's a well-kept secret that these babies are among some of the most powerful production automobiles still being manufactured. Let's face it, with a fatter and fatter population, the average hearse needs to be able to carry some heavy loads, and since all the gas is a tax writeoff, there's no need for fuel economy, either.

You might as well practice saying it now--the best alternative is a lovely, closed-casket funeral. You don't want people going for simple cremations--there's very little profit margin there. Open caskets mean more work making the deceased especially presentable, but really don't add any value to your product. Closed casket means you sell a fancy coffin and you can do a quick and dirty makeup job on the body.

You'll make mistakes, of course--there's way too many different religious approaches to how to say goodbye to a loved one, and you know you'll get caught when you keep taking the hearse out on Sunday afternoons to race other apprentices in their oversized station wagons, but it's not rocket science. (Unless, of course, the deceased has chosen the "Eternal Sky" option of being launched into the ether...)

You'll sell people airtight coffins and overpriced granite stones with sentiments that would make a Hallmark hack blush. The itemized expense list shows that everyone has their hand in the bereaved's pocket--but who would be crass enough to question costs at a time like this? You'll see more and more money heading your way as you go from apprentice to full-fledged mortician, and that will almost make the other sacrifices worth it.

What sacrifices? C'mon kid--you can figure it out, can't you? First of all, you won't go out on dates as much as buy them. Not that any of your colleagues will be in a position to look down on you for it. And then there's the conventions--the dark corners of the bar will expose you to stories of lonely men and their desperate acts that burn themselves into your nightmares for the rest of your life. Only increasing whisky consumption can ease your horror temporarily.

And the sights won't be pretty--each one reminding you that one day you'll find your place on the same white porcelain where you will be drained, refilled and cleaned. At least you'll be comfortable with your own mortality, right?

If you do decide to do this, can you get me a discount? I know my ex wife will go cheap if I kick off first for sure...