But Thats None Of My Business

But Thats None Of My Business

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One Day’s Notice: Wet Seal Under Fire For Surprise Layoffs

Former employees tell BuzzFeed News they got a day’s notice that they would be losing their jobs, even after repeatedly asking if their stores were closing.

Wet Seal’s store closure discussion script:

Part 1; parts 2 and 3 are below. Obtained by BuzzFeed News

“I have to advise you of a decision that will affect you.”

That’s one of the first lines in the script used for laying off employees of teen retail chain Wet Seal this past weekend. “Affect” was putting it lightly, given the decision was to close at least 60 stores within a week, offering hundreds of part-time employees just a day’s notice (managers got a few additional days) that they would be losing their jobs and, in many cases, their livelihood.

The document, obtained by BuzzFeed News and included in full below, illustrates the cold approach Wet Seal took to shuttering stores this month. The struggling retailer, which told investors in December that it planned to close 60 of its 528 stores by Jan. 31, waited until Friday to tell managers which stores would be closing after weeks of assuaging them that 80%-off discounts were normal, shipments were on their way, and the business was doing fine, according to BuzzFeed News interviews with staff.

The worst part: The stores would close just days later. Wet Seal is now at the center of a social media firestorm for ambushing its employees in a manner that former employees and customers have deemed unnecessary, disrespectful, and deeply misleading.

According to interviews and posts on Facebook and Instagram, store managers and assistant managers were instructed to dial into a 2:30 p.m. conference call on Friday, without any knowledge of what the call would be about. District managers delivered the news, and store personnel were left to inform associates they no longer had jobs. Some, including managers, are working into this week until the stores “vacate” — still less than seven days’ notice. The script for telling employees was emailed out after the call, and started with: “As you all know, the company has been struggling financially. We’ve tried cutting costs everywhere we can, but it has not been enough.” It included instructions on how to handle questions about severance — none — and a potential bankruptcy. “I recognize that this news is not easy to hear.”

The company has not replied to requests for comment.

This picture from a Wet Seal at Seattle’s Northgate Mall has gone viral. Redditor DevoidSauce told BuzzFeed News he took it at 4 p.m. on Sunday. Reddit: DevoidSauce / Via i.imgur.com

Employees were, understandably, stunned and deeply frustrated.

“We were seeing signs of 80% off and we knew we never did that in the store,” said Tiffany Alston, a 23-year-old who worked part-time at a Wet Seal in Arlington, Virginia, for 16 months. After Wet Seal began offering such discounts in December, Alston’s manager and an assistant manager asked their district head if the store was at risk of closing.

“Both times, the response was, ‘No, it’s just an awesome holiday sale, we’re not closing, there are several locations going through the same sales and everything,'” she said. “So we said, ‘OK, maybe she’s right.'”

The closing stores, whose supplies of new merchandise tapered off in the past two weeks, have been emptied quickly. Alston said kids hanging out at the mall stole some of her store’s mannequins on Friday; employees weren’t able to catch them. Valentina, 20, who was laid off from a Wet Seal in Chino, California, said her store sold mannequins for $25 and tables for $50. She noted the company didn’t provide boxes to send back leftover merchandise, so she and other part-time associates had to ask for spares from other mall stores and a nearby Walmart. Worse, two employees, who spoke on the condition of anonymity, said some stores received boxes and instructions for packing and mailing back IT items like cash registers before formally learning of the layoffs.

Wet Seal probably wasn’t expecting the jarring nature of its layoffs to go viral. On Sunday, Redditor DevoidSauce posted a banner from a Wet Seal window in Seattle’s Northgate Mall that criticized the chain. The sign, made by employees, displayed a litany of frustrations in the form of a checklist: unpaid and unused vacation and sick time, the abrupt notice for employees who’d spent as many as eight years at the company, the interim chief financial officer’s new $95,000 raise (disclosed, regretfully, in a regulatory filing the same day the closures were announced). The sign also noted the store’s No. 1 sales status in the district and gave thanks to customers.

Employees have posted similar signs in Wet Seal windows at other malls. The images and reprimands to Wet Seal have flooded the company’s Instagram and Facebook pages and are showing up on Twitter with hashtags such as #ClubWetSeal, #BoycottWetSeal and #ForgetWetSeal.

Norwood helped put this sign up at her Wet Seal in Arlington, Virginia. Facebook user Meg Guicciardini / Via facebook.com

Tyra Norwood, 20, helped put up a poster at the Ballston Common Mall in Arlington, Virginia, the same one Alston works at, that reads: “Go online and find out why we are closing. Sad story. Wet Seal sucks. Liars.” She said she worked at the store for roughly 15 to 20 hours a week beginning 9 or 10 months ago.

“I was trying to Google it because I was wondering why we were having all these huge sales — people kept asking us if we were closing, and I said, ‘No, we’re just getting ready for new inventory,’” she said in an interview. “There was never an announcement to the whole store. When they had their conference call, that was the announcement, basically, but there was no warning.”

Working at Wet Seal was a second job for a number of her colleagues, Norwood said. Valentina, who worked between 9 and 15 hours a week, said the job was her main source of income. She’s tried applying for other retail jobs “left and right,” but given chains just staffed up for the holiday season, it’s tough going. A part-time assistant manager in Missouri who spoke on the condition of anonymity told me she supported herself and her young son through her Wet Seal job. Her store also discovered the layoffs ahead of time through a FedEx delivery of boxes and packing instructions that were meant to arrive on Monday, she said.

Transfers weren’t an option, either. Although Wet Seal said it would close 60 locations, it may have shuttered even more. Laid-off employees “may apply for future positions at other store locations,” according to the firing script given to managers, though that comes without guarantees. For some, like Veronica Bohrer, that’s not possible anyway given the Wet Seal she worked at is in Bismarck, North Dakota.

Bohrer, 22, typically worked 20 hours a week, though that sometimes stretched to 30. She said heavy discounts compelled her managers to ask about closures once a week in December, but their bosses reassured them the store would be fine. (Store managers didn’t know, and it’s unclear if district managers did. All the employees believe staff in the corporate office knew in advance, though Wet Seal will not return messages to its CFO and external PR firm addressing these concerns.) She initially learned of the layoffs when another store called to ask if their store received “the box.” Bohrer is an art student and is concerned about finding another job to cover her bills.

“I’m just hoping I can make it in time — the short notice thing has made me feel very uneasy, because I do have bills to pay,” she said in an interview. “I’m also in the military so that’s one thing I can fall back on right now, but it’s not enough to pay all my bills.” She added that’s two to three day drills per month for the Army National Guard.

Those who worked after being notified of closures up to the store’s “vacate date” were offered “retention” bonuses of $150 for assistant managers and $300 for managers, according to a separate document sent to BuzzFeed News.

It’s unclear what awaits Wet Seal, a hot ’90s and early 2000s retailer that has struggled to appeal to its target customer in recent years. The stock continues to trade for pennies on the dollar, and the possibility of a bankruptcy looms. In the layoff script, the correct response for an inquiry about bankruptcy is to acknowledge the company has said it’s a consideration, followed by “I’m not permitted to discuss anything further on that topic.”

When the company announced its CFO’s nearly $100,000 raise on Jan. 2, it also said Wet Seal defaulted on an interest payment on senior convertible notes due on Dec. 31. It’s clearly in serious danger financially, and its actions regarding layoffs have seemingly incited the wrath of consumers as well as former employees, which could very well affect sales.

In the closing script, Wet Seal assistant managers were told to inform employees: “I understand that you may need some time to process this information and that you may have additional questions. I will be available to address any issues you may have. In addition, Human Resources will also be available to answer your questions. We are all here to support you during this transitional period.”

Employees spoke fondly of their store colleagues. One said she overheard her boss crying after the conference call. Another said she was furious she didn’t get a chance to say good-bye to a group that had become “like a family.”

“They should have given us a warning, like two weeks’ notice — I don’t know how they can give us a day’s warning,” Valentina said. “Corporate wasn’t telling us anything … we wanted answers but nobody would give us answers.”


Part 2 of Wet Seal termination script:

Obtained by BuzzFeed News

Part 3 of Wet Seal termination script:

Obtained by BuzzFeed News

FAQ for Wet Seal store closures:

Obtained by BuzzFeed News

Obtained by BuzzFeed News

Obtained by BuzzFeed News

Management “retention program”:

Obtained by BuzzFeed News

Facebook user Zamir Iqbal / Via facebook.com

Read more: http://www.buzzfeed.com/sapna/one-days-notice-wet-seal-under-fire-for-surprise-layoffs

Rashida Jones apologizes for urging John Travolta to come out of the closet


Rashida Jones is apologizing for publicly urging John Travolta to come out of the closet.

In an interview with SpinningPlatters.com, the actress applauded singer Frank Ocean for coming out, and urged Travolta to do the same.

“Like John Travolta? Come out! Come on. How many masseurs have to come forward? Let’s do this,” she said.

After receiving some backlash, Jones issued an apology. “Made a thoughtless comment about John Travolta. I sincerely apologize. Nobody’s personal life is my business.”

Some think the apology was unnecessary.


@iamrashidajones A shame. I thought you were right to do it, and you follow in the steps of the great Carrie Fisher in calling him out.

— Megan (@blautreacle) August 14, 2012

@iamrashidajones Don't sweat the small stuff.

— Rosebud (@AnnaKatherineC) August 14, 2012


@iamrashidajones Don't worry about it, NBD – He doesn't have anybody fooled anymore.

— diego rivas (@iopluto5) August 14, 2012

@iamrashidajones don't beat yourself up….You just said what everyone else in the world is thinking. People should live life honestly xx

— the hunted few (@huntedfew) August 14, 2012

@iamrashidajones nobody cares. #ManUp (also something Travolta likes)

— Bill Anderson (@nyswede) August 14, 2012

@iamrashidajones Your comment was sincere and not malicious Travolta is snookered between Scientology the shocking truth & his future career

— Nassim (@from2shores) August 14, 2012

@iamrashidajones please don't apologize. You're right. #johntravolta #closetcase

— Irish-it (@jaymemontgomery) August 14, 2012

Read more: http://twitchy.com/2012/08/14/rashida-jones-apologizes-for-urging-john-travolta-to-come-out-of-the-closet/

Grab your hankies! Here’s why this ‘entitled nit-wit’ is suing her law school

Well, if this isn’t just the sobbiest sob story we’ve ever read:

More from yesterday’sNew York Times:

Nearly a decade has passed since an aspiring young lawyer in California, Anna Alaburda, graduated in the top tier of her class, passed the state bar exam and set out to use the law degree she had spent about $150,000 to acquire.

But on Monday, in a San Diego courtroom, she will tell a story that has become all too familiar among law students in the United States: Since graduating from the Thomas Jefferson School of Law in 2008, she has yet to find a full-time salaried job as a lawyer.

So now, she’s suing her law school. Because of course she is.

No, it’s true:

Ms. Alaburda said, in legal papers, that she received only one job offer one which was less favorable than non-law-related jobs that were available after she sent her rsum to more than 150 law firms and practicing lawyers. She is asking $125,000 in damages.

The poor dear.

How was she supposed to know that law firms wouldn’t be banging her doors down trying to recruit her for her immense talent?

No, no. Her failure is obviously someone else’s fault.

We wish Ms.Alaburda the best of luck. After all, she may be opening up a door for anyone out there with less than one hundred percent job satisfaction.

Read more: http://twitchy.com/2016/03/07/grab-your-hankies-heres-why-this-entitled-nit-wit-is-suing-her-law-school/

Andrew Sullivan’s ‘demoralization is profound’ following ‘devastating’ poll


The Daily Beast’s Andrew Sullivan was already on shaky emotional ground last Wednesday night as he live-tweeted the first presidential debate, calling President Obama’s performance a “rolling calamity” and a “disaster.” Is it wrong, then, to take joy from Sullivan’s reaction to the latest Pew poll, which gives Mitt Romney a 49–45 lead? If it is, we don’t want to be right.

So Andrew Sullivan had a meltdown? Heh. I didn't know anyone still paid attention to him.

— Heather (@hboulware) October 9, 2012

As Sullivan writes:

Romney’s favorables are above Obama’s now. Yes, you read that right. Romney’s favorables are higher than Obama’s right now. That gender gap that was Obama’s firewall? Over in one night.

Look: I’m trying to rally some morale, but I’ve never seen a candidate this late in the game, so far ahead, just throw in the towel in the way Obama did last week – throw away almost every single advantage he had with voters and manage to enable his opponent to seem as if he cares about the middle class as much as Obama does. How do you erase that imprinted first image from public consciousness: a president incapable of making a single argument or even a halfway decent closing statement?

Sullivan’s followers are trying to rally him and themselves by calling Pew’s poll heavily skewed; although, as Twitchy has reported, the sample was a reasonable 34R/33D/30I — a far cry from previous polls that have favored Democrats by up to 13 points.

Now that Andrew Sullivan is in Total Freakout Mode, we can assume the Romney bounce will be short-lived.

— Josh Barro (@jbarro) October 9, 2012

Wut? Obama's only chance is embracing Simpson-Bowles? Somebody calm Andrew down. http://t.co/v5nQTB99

— Blake Hounshell (@blakehounshell) October 9, 2012

Wouldn’t be an election w/o a full on, remaining hair pulling-out, table pounding, Kevin McCarthy in “Bodysnatcher,” @sullydish freakout,

— Peter Sagal (@petersagal) October 9, 2012

Dear Daily Beast readers, for the rest of the week, Andrew Sullivan shall be blogging from inside his panic room: http://t.co/CqUJGZJZ

— Jason Linkins (@dceiver) October 9, 2012

@sullydish From what I can tell, you're the only one demoralized here. Maybe soak in a hot tub. Sniff some lavender. Take a chill pill.

— Bill Harnsberger (@BillinPortland) October 8, 2012

@sullydish I am one of your biggest fans, I simply adore you. But you are getting on my last nerve. Stop acting like a girl. O will be fine.

— Jorie (@MmedeSevigne) October 8, 2012

Didn’t the Left declare the election over weeks ago? All of that “nail in the coffin” business?

Who knew Sullivan’s tears were so delicious?

Did you know that when Andrew Sullivan's tears hit the ground, flowers bloom & children laugh.

— John Nolte (@NolteNC) October 9, 2012

Reading this is almost as funny as watching the meltdown in MSNBC just after the debate. http://t.co/OEJQxndY

— Aaron Worthing (@AaronWorthing) October 9, 2012


For all the cries of a skewed poll, Sullivan seems to have been struck by a reality bomb. What truth will he realize next?


Read more: http://twitchy.com/2012/10/08/andrew-sullivans-demoralization-is-profound-following-devastating-pew-poll-romney-bounce/

Geraldo Rivera blames Boston Marathon bombing on ‘homegrown anarchists’


Twitter users gave the professional ghoul the business.

@geraldoriveraNot modest in killing power to the two people who are dead.

— David-Damien Mattia (@DaveMattia) April 15, 2013

There are now 176 casualties, and three confirmed dead. Horrible.

Tell that to the victims’ families MT @geraldorivera: Thankfully Boston bombs relatively modest in killing power Not like al Qaeda’s

— Brandon Chapman (@bwake77) April 15, 2013

@geraldorivera Thankfully? What planet r u on?!! People were maimed and killed. Ur thankful one group responsible rather than another?

— Sam Civiello (@Openitup) April 15, 2013

@geraldorivera are you drunk? What kind of BS statement was that from a supposed professional?

— Jacqué Stoddard (@jacquestoddard) April 15, 2013

@geraldorivera What is modest killing power?

— Ken Age (@kenage1) April 15, 2013

@vrwctexan @geraldorivera What a dumbass…

— The Stronghold (@TheStronghold26) April 16, 2013

Jack ass—>@geraldorivera: Thankfully Boston bombs relatively modest in killing power Not like al Qaeda’s More like homegrown anarchists

— Randi (@Float_Girl) April 16, 2013

@geraldorivera Thank you for your speculation. What is wrong with you?#irresponsible

— Caught A. Case (@CaughtAcase) April 15, 2013

That’s not all. Geraldo’s tactless “analysis” doesn’t even make sense.

First, he asserts that the Boston bombs were less powerful than al Qaeda bombs.

What evidence supports that?

True, the number of fatalities in Boston was lower than in, say, the 2004 Madrid train bombings or the 2005 London bombings.

Then again, the 1993 World Trade Center bombing killed “only” six people (plus one unborn baby). Unfortunately, the fatality count in Boston may eventually top that, as a number of people injured in the blast are in critical condition.

The number of fatalities is a faulty metric for judging who committed this heinous attack.

Second, he appears to assume that “homegrown” terrorists are not capable of utilizing powerful bombs. Evil Oklahoma City bomber Timothy McVeigh demonstrated otherwise:

The Oklahoma blast claimed 168 lives, including 19 children under the age of 6, and injured more than 680 people. The blast destroyed or damaged 324 buildings within a sixteen-block radius, destroyed or burned 86 cars, and shattered glass in 258 nearby buildings.

Third, he draws a bogus distinction between “homegrown” anarchists and al Qaeda. There are numerous examples of “homegrown” terrorists who joined Islamic jihad  (see, e.g., Beltway sniper John Muhammad, al Qaeda associate Jose Padilla, Taliban soldier John Walker Lindh, al Qaeda mouthpiece Adam Gadahn).

Is it possible that the marathon bomber is a U.S.-born “anarchist”? Anything’s possible at this point. But Detective Rivera’s flawed and flippant Twitter B.S. doesn’t get us any closer to the truth.

Back to the vault, Geraldo!


Twitchy’s full Boston Marathon bombing coverage

Read more: http://twitchy.com/2013/04/16/geraldo-rivera-blames-boston-marathon-bombing-on-homegrown-anarchists/

BREAKING: Reports of police officer shot in Ferguson, Missouri


These are the latest reports out of Ferguson:

#Breaking Police officer shot in #Ferguson

— KSDK NewsChannel 5 (@ksdknews) September 28, 2014

Listening to the police scanner to get any sort of confirmation of the reports coming out of Ferguson about a cop being shot.

— Michael Skolnik (@MichaelSkolnik) September 28, 2014

BREAKING NEWS: Police officer shot in Ferguson, MO. Police in riot gear.

— PzFeed Top News (@PzFeed) September 28, 2014

Updates to follow.

Update (10:49)

St. Louis County Police confirm to News 4 #Ferguson officer has been shot. Updates coming on News 4 @ 10 http://t.co/dJ0ieuupb0

— KMOV (@KMOV) September 28, 2014

Update (10:52)

BREAKING NEWS: Ferguson police in riot gear after being involved in a fatal shooting. Suspect has been killed – http://t.co/ABhKtJQoRU

— PzFeed Top News (@PzFeed) September 28, 2014

Ferguson, Missouri, police officer was shot Saturday evening, St. Louis County Police spokesman says. The officer was not killed.

— CNN Breaking News (@cnnbrk) September 28, 2014

Bad situation. Reports of a cop killed. Angry cops, angry people in #Ferguson. https://t.co/xRY984owXw

— Antonio French (@AntonioFrench) September 28, 2014

Update (10:55)

RT @cnnbrk Ferguson, MO police officer was shot Saturday evening, St. Louis County Police spokesman says. The officer was not killed.

— KUTV 2News (@KUTV2News) September 28, 2014

Update (11:06)

Join us @ksdknews at 10. #Ferguson police officer shot. Suspect still on the loose. More details on a few.

— Kelly Jackson (@KellyJKSDK) September 28, 2014

JUST IN: KSDK reports a Ferguson, Missouri, police officer has been shot. Suspect still on the loose.

— WNDU (@WNDU) September 28, 2014

According to @stlcountypd the officer was shot in the arm. #ferguson

— FOX2now (@FOX2now) September 28, 2014

Update (12:02). From the St. Louis Post Dispatch:



Update (12:38 a.m.)

Ron Johnson "a police officer was shot tonight. No one else." #Ferguson pic.twitter.com/s03C2ap1aG

— Willis Arnold (@WillisRArnold) September 28, 2014

Update (12:55 a.m.)

UPDATE: Male officer interrupted a burglary at a business when he was shot in the arm http://t.co/dJ0ieuupb0 #kmov

— KMOV (@KMOV) September 28, 2014

Update (1:13 a.m.)

Police fired at suspects. Police say they have no indication the suspects were injured. #Ferguson

— Nicholas J.C. Pistor (@nickpistor) September 28, 2014

police say they don't believe this incident is linked to #Ferguson protests.

— Nicholas J.C. Pistor (@nickpistor) September 28, 2014

Editor’s note: This post has been updated with additional tweets. 


‘He deserved to get shot:’ Hate flows after female Ferguson police officer shot; Update: MHP’s Ron Johnson now says wounded cop is male

‘War zone': Police officers, Ferguson protesters converge in #Dellwood after cop shot, rumors swirl [photos]

How do the Ferguson police mix up the sex of the wounded officer?

Not over: After officer shot, protesters head back to Ferguson police station [photos, video]

KMOV reports another cop shot at on I-70; police, copters descend on highway

Read more: http://twitchy.com/2014/09/27/breaking-reports-of-police-officer-shot-in-ferguson-missouri/

‘Beyond the pale': FBN’s Charles Payne blasts MSNBC for mocking Romney grandson


Well said. What a shame that so-called “progressives” feel the need to spit on a family’s love.



Fox Business’ Charles Payne on ‘euro-snob’ Nobel Peace Prize committee: ‘They suck’

Racism is hilarious! MSNBC panel mocks, belittles Romneys’ adopted grandson

‘Mock me too!’ Proud adoptive dad Nick Searcy slams bigot Melissa Harris-Perry [pics]

Romney grandson-mocking racist progressives of pallor at MSNBC in a truth-boom nutshell

‘Wildly inappropriate’: Scott Brown calls on MSNBC jerks to apologize to Romneys

Comedian Dean Obeidallah apologizes to Romneys’ grandchild ‘for being used as a prop’

Actress Pia Glenn apologizes — sort of — after mocking Romneys’ grandchild on MSNBC

Marc Lamont Hill clarifies remarks about Romneys ‘hauling out a black person’

‘Shame on MSNBC!’ Sarah Palin blasts ‘despicable yellow journalists’ for mocking Romney grandson

‘Lunatic!’ Melissa Harris-Perry ‘apologizes’ to Romneys (with self-serving hashtag); Do you buy it?

Read more: http://twitchy.com/2013/12/30/beyond-the-pale-fox-business-charles-payne-blasts-msnbc-for-mocking-romney-grandson/

Moby has a low opinion of security guards


If you’ve ever guarded the door at a venue where Moby was playing, we’re sorry.

The NRA’s suggestion today that every school be protected by an armed guard went over about as well as a lead bullet. As Wayne LaPierre pointed out, we expect armed guards to be present at banks, so why not our schools, which house something much more precious than money? Because security guards are imbeciles, duh.

Oh, and jack-booted thugs, according to Talking Points Memo.

Im experiencing a little cognitive dissonance w/the NRA’s new demand to have a jack-booted thug at every school & small business in the USA.

— Josh Marshall (@joshtpm) December 22, 2012

Exit question: if these jack-booted Burger King rejects are unionized, can we still call them thugs?

Read more: http://twitchy.com/2012/12/21/moby-has-a-low-opinion-of-security-guards/

Can The Next Generation Of Morticians Breathe Life Into The Death Industry?

The young, close-knit, predominantly female students in SUNY Canton’s mortuary school are fascinated with our most difficult, yet unavoidable, subject. But when it comes to changing attitudes about death and grieving, are educational programs like the one they’re in part of the problem?

Advanced Embalming begins Monday morning at 8. A small group of 20- and 21-year-olds, all of them dressed in too-big black and dark gray suits, shuffle tiredly into the classroom. Professor Barry Walch stands behind the podium, holding a stack of the students’ exams from last week. They did not do as well as he’d hoped.

“You guys ruined my whole weekend,” he says. “I graded these on Friday and spent the whole weekend crying.”

“Walshie,” says Kayce, who brought in a bagel and orange juice from one of the campus cafeterias, “we need extra credit.”

“There isn’t enough extra credit in America,” he replies.

Walch — sixtysomething, trim, white hair and glasses — is setting up the PowerPoint for today’s lecture. The introductory slide reads “SEVERE EDEMA REMOVAL.”

“Oh ho ho ho,” he laughs. “Wait till you see what we’ve got today. This one even makes me puke.”

Kayce Photograph by Andrew Renneisen for BuzzFeed

“Are there pictures?” asks one student.

“Oh, there’s pictures.”

The small, windowless, off-white room we’re sitting in is located on the basement level of French Hall, where most of SUNY (State University of New York) Canton’s mortuary science classes are held. Across the hallway is the Mortuary Science Association lounge, which is decorated with fake cobwebs and caution tape for Halloween. Between classes, students gather around its circular table to complain about tests and play cards. (Right now, they are very into euchre.) When I meet them, they are in the process of designing their wing of the school’s annual haunted house. Kayce, who is one half of a president–vice-president MSA power couple with her boyfriend Nick, tells me: “Ours is always the scariest.”

Katie Heaney / BuzzFeed

A little more than 50 students (35 of them freshmen) are enrolled in the school’s four-year program, one of just a handful across the country; everywhere else, mortuary science is a two-year associate’s degree. Enrollment is small, but growing: The 2015 American Board of Funeral Service Education (ABFSE) directory of mortuary science programs, groups, and professional associations puts the number of accredited institutions of funeral service education in the United States at 58, comprising 5,000 enrolled students, two-thirds of whom are between ages 17 and 30 — and over 57% of them are women. At SUNY Canton, the students are almost exclusively between the ages of 18 and 22; 80% of them are women.

In their choice of academic pursuit, these are young people who, whether they realize it or not, are pushing back against a lot: the derision of peers, and sometimes family; an aging curriculum increasingly at odds with the needs and wants of the contemporary American; and, according to many I spoke with, high dropout rates and, if they make it that far, high industry turnover. They are signing up to spend years talking about something nobody else wants to talk about. From the moment they show up at orientation, mortuary students are told they are — they must be — different than the rest of us. We need their help.

But a growing, increasingly vocal cohort of alternative death activists argue that the insularity mortuary science programs foster only serves to keep us beholden to a stagnant, stubbornly reclusive industry — to maintain a false binary between death’s proactive managers and the rest of us, its passive recipients.

Photograph by Andrew Renneisen for BuzzFeed

On Sunday afternoon, the mortuary science upperclassmen are watching football. David Penepent, program director and professor, invites his juniors and seniors — and he does think of them as his, calling the girls “honey” — over for beer and spaghetti. He calls it “supervised socializing.”

Marielle, a 21-year-old with long, flat-ironed maroon hair and razor-precise eyeliner, is from Staten Island, which is obvious as soon as she tells me she joined the program because she wanted to work with the “’uman” body. As a freshman she was one of 15 students; she excitedly tells me the current freshman class is more than twice that.

Katie Photograph by Andrew Renneisen for BuzzFeed

At some point the group becomes divided: The girls leave the silent boys on the couch and migrate to the dinner table. I sit next to Katie, who is wearing a navy hoodie and a purple bandana over her tight brown curls. I ask her if she’s always been interested in death and she says yes, since the first time she studied Egyptian history in high school. Her uncle is a funeral director, and when she told him she was interested in becoming one too, he told her, “Run while you can.” But she was undeterred.

I ask the other girls what type of reactions they get when other people learn their course of study. “People look at you like…” says JoAnna, followed by an expression that seems equal parts shock and disgust. Kayce says that a guy once sat down at her table in the cafeteria, asked her major, and, when she told him, promptly stood up again.

She came from culinary school, which she didn’t finish. When looking for a new path, her dad, who used to dig graves, suggested she consider mortuary school. It appealed to her immediately. “This is funny now,” she says, “but I didn’t want to work long weeks and crazy hours.” Everyone, including Penepent, who sticks his head in from the kitchen, laughs uproariously — dying does not have off-hours, or a slow season.

Theirs is the smallest program on campus, and likely the most marginalized too. It’s evident that the students are very close, unusually so. Marielle tells Katie, “We probably wouldn’t be friends if it weren’t for this program,” and I believe her. I ask them if they spend much time hanging out with students from other programs. “We don’t hang out with other kids,” says Marielle.

They even have their own slang: YODO. Like YOLO, but, you know.

At the mention of an upcoming embalming lab, Katie recalls a session in which she and and another student got blood spatter all over their faces after accidentally shredding a corpse’s jugular vein. It’s protocol for students to wear protective shields in lab, but they were leaning over the body at just the right (or, wrong) angle, so blood still got on their chins and, I’m sorry to say, in their mouths. As a result, they had to go to the hospital for HIV testing — standard procedure for exposure to bodily fluids, even if the body in question has screened negative for HIV. “I laughed,” she says, with a shrug.

I ask her if there’s anything that does make her uncomfortable. “We all have our things we don’t like to do,” she says, quietly. “For me it’s closing the mouths.” A year ago her grandfather died, she tells me. Her family prepared the body, but when it came time to close his mouth, she had to leave the room.

After spaghetti and garlic bread, we eat a very sweet but allegedly sugar-free dessert that Kayce made special for Penepent, who was recently diagnosed with diabetes. Little sugar gravestones adorn the chocolate frosting.

David Penepent Photograph by Andrew Renneisen for BuzzFeed

Penepent then sets up the movie he wants the students to watch: 700 Sundays, Billy Crystal’s one-man show about his father, who died when Crystal was 15. In the show, Crystal describes his grief as a boulder, which he mimes pushing around the stage. Penepent uses this as an entry point to a lesson: What boulders are the students carrying? In what way will various individuals’ boulders play a role in their future funeral homes? When JoAnna answers, she punctuates her thoughts with punches into her palm and liberal use of the word “fuck”: “When I talk about death, I get angry,” she says. It’s not clear at whom. God, maybe.

Mid-answer, she notices that Katie has started to cry. At 27, JoAnna is significantly older than her peers, and it shows: She crouches at Katie’s feet, taking her hands in her own, kissing her on the cheek. “I know you’ve been suffering,” she says. Katie’s grandfather’s death is something they’ve already talked about. The group’s ease with one another is startling. Nobody is embarrassed for anyone; this is what they are here for.

“Does school make your boulder heavier?” Penepent asks.

“No,” says Katie, who has stopped crying.

“Does it make it lighter?”


Penepent then asks Katie if she’d like a blessing, and she says, “OK.” It is only then, when she stands up, that JoAnna lets go of her hands.

Penepent leaves the room, coming back moments later with what looks like a palm-size wooden log. “This is NOT a big joint,” he says. It’s sage, which he lights with a match. He tells Katie to hold out her arms, and he shakes the stick around in an imaginary perimeter around her body, a wispy trail of smoke flowing from its end. “May you be blessed with your grandfather’s spirit,” he says. There is some light giggling; they are very serious young people, but they are not unshakable.

Photograph by Andrew Renneisen for BuzzFeed

Like many students who end up in mortuary school, Caitlin Doughty grew up with an above-average interest in what she calls “morbidly related things.” In college she majored in medieval history. At 23, she got a job as a crematory operator. Now 30, she has a favorite funeral rite: Tibetan sky burial. A tradition of Vajrayana Buddhism, practiced in several Chinese provinces as well as Mongolia — places where high altitude limits tree growth and therefore pyre building, and where the often-frozen ground makes traditional burial difficult — sky burial is the name given to the rite in which a dead body is placed atop a mountain and left there to be carried away and eaten, piece by piece, by birds of prey.

Doughty from the “Ask A Mortician” YouTube Series. Ask a Mortician / Via youtube.com

“I think it’s just beautiful,” she says in the third episode of her popular series, Ask a Mortician. (Some episodes have racked up close to 200,000 views.) “The idea of your body being taken apart and flown into the air in a million different directions is really, really powerful, and if it were available in the U.S., I would be cultivating a flock of vultures,” she adds.

Though I knew what Doughty looked like thanks to YouTube, when I meet her for breakfast in New York, I’m surprised by her height: 6-foot-1 before the heels on her boots. Her glossy black hair is cut into blunt Bettie Page bangs. Her sonorous voice is lower in person than it sounds in her videos. She strikes me as unignorable, though she assures me the targets of her critiques do their best.

“Traditional industry people won’t comment on me,” she says, seeming surprised in spite of herself. “I get anonymous comments sometimes, but when I say, like, ‘Would you be willing to do a back-and-forth debate on the blog or in a video?’ there’s no response. They’re not willing to do it. And I’m ready to go.”

Ask a Mortician is especially, delightfully goofy given the subject matter: The series finds Doughty, a licensed mortician, answering a variety of dark and sometimes unsavory questions like “Do you have to grind the bones after a cremation?” and “How prevalent is necrophilia in the funeral industry?” Her answers (short version: yes; not very) are patient, nuanced, and not condescending. If “funeral director” has an archetype — graying, potbellied white man in an outdated brown suit — Caitlin Doughty is the perfect foil.

In the seven years she’s been working in the funeral industry, Doughty has created a full-time career as an alternative death activist. She is the founder of The Order of the Good Death, a group of funeral industry professionals, academics, and artists dedicated to changing the cultural conversation about death, and is also in the process of opening a DIY funeral service called Undertaking L.A.

W. W. Norton & Company / Via amazon.com

Her first book, a New York Times best-selling memoir called Smoke Gets in Your Eyes (& Other Lessons From the Crematory), devotes substantial space to her experiences in cremation, though one gets the impression that the relatively few lurid details she provides are proffered as bait. The first line of her book is “A girl always remembers the first corpse she shaves,” but if she has any intent to titillate, it’s only a means to an end — a way to grab hold of our darkest curiosities, pull us closer, and make us grapple with the fact that (to borrow a lyric) everyone we know, someday, will die.

At its core, the book is a clarion call directed primarily at the death industry, and, secondarily, its customers — which is to say, everyone. In Doughty’s view, the system currently in place has too long relied on an unhealthy symbiosis: clients who are too petrified to think about death long enough to wonder if they might want things done differently, and funeral directors who are all too happy to keep everything the same.

Doughty calls this “death denialism” — the uniquely American belief that death can be overcome, or at least ignored, for a very, very long time. Here extension of life is the ultimate imperative, and illness, an opportunity: to persevere, to marathon, to win. If we must die, then we will do so privately and tidily, ushered quickly out of the hospital or home, out of the hands of our families and into those of sanitized professionals. If we are to see a dead body it must be made up to look living, puffed up and painted, hands folded peacefully across the chest.

As a result, our perspective is blinkered. We don’t treat our time as finite; we gulp down our resources and our days because we don’t really believe they’ll run out. To quote just one of a number of gorgeously stern passages in her book: “Corpses keep the living tethered to reality.” In other words, our inability to deal with death is ruining our lives.

So, after a year at the crematory — during which time she grew increasingly wary of establishment morticians, whom she frequently felt were misinforming and up-selling the bereaved — Doughty enrolled in mortuary school as something of a Trojan horse. (She also refers to mortuary school as “Deth Skool” and sometimes “The Formaldehyde Tower.”) Going to mortuary school was the only way to be sure mortuary school was being done wrong.

The way Doughty describes her 18-month program verges on Pleasantville-esque dystopia: self-serious faculty; soaring, preachy platitudes; and an unswerving, unnerving attention paid to the very aesthetic, very particular details of the embalming process. Doughty describes coming across an article, found in the stack of trade magazines outside the lab, called “Cosmetic Considerations for the Infant Death,” which, she writes, is fancy mortuary-speak for “Makeup for Dead Babies.”

Of her former classmates, Doughty is equally unsparing. She describes hoping to find “fellow death revolutionaries,” meeting instead a group of doe-eyed drones. At a meet-and-greet with upperclassmen, the newcomers are asked to share why they enrolled in mortuary school. Doughty writes, “Surely they would boldly refuse to give the same cheesy, party-line answer, ‘I just really want to help people.’ No such luck.”

The line struck me as a bit harsh — who among us can answer an icebreaker question without succumbing to cliché? — but it is true that mortuary science students repeat this mantra a lot. Among students I talked to, it was the first and most given response to the same question. It’s an admirable motive, if a simplified one. There are lots of ways to help people. Why this one? But Doughty does see reasons to be encouraged by recent cultural changes, like the gender breakdown in programs like SUNY Canton.

“The main thrust of the interest in death right now really does come from young women,” Doughty tells me. “If you go to events around death or death awareness, that’s majority women.” There is also a surging and parallel set of majority-female interests working in her favor: New Age-y spiritual endeavors like astrology, witchcraft, and tarot. Doughty ascribes these pursuits to an increasingly secular population eager to reclaim ritual; though she describes them as “not [her] bent,” she’s happy to welcome their adherents.

When you ask people in the funeral industry why they think women are flocking to the field, they almost always answer in gender-essentialist terms: They’re “naturally” caring, “naturally” sensitive. Women have “natural motherly empathy,” Penepent tells me. Even the young female students answer this way. At the spaghetti dinner, Marielle told me, “Women are good at talking to people, and caring.” Put this way, it sounds like biological destiny.

The “natural empathy” line smacks of compensatory rationale a bit — if women are and have always been more sensitive than men, why haven’t they always been here? Rhetoric like this seems like a way to make women working in the death industry more palatable to people who might otherwise bristle at the change swelling up around them — a way to calm the old, white, male guard by assuring them: It’s OK, the girls are just here to be nice. This might be how it’s possible to have an enrollment that is well over half female and an industry that still doesn’t see them at the top. Despite all this eager female presence, the funeral industry remains overwhelmingly male: A 2010 study found that just over 18% of the nation’s funeral directors were women.

“Women will get hired and end up getting sandwiches for the guys,” Walch tells me. “Women will put up with more nonsense on the job site than men will” — basically, because they have to.

Still, Doughty believes the sheer quantity of women taking interest and showing up must, eventually, necessitate a sea change: “It’s not gonna work for much longer for the guys to be like, ‘What are you doing here?’”

Library of Congress (LC-USZ62-121654)

The funeral industry likes to tie contemporary Western embalming practices to ancient Egypt, but many (including Doughty) point out that the heavily ritualized, months-long mummification process is a world apart from what is done in American funeral homes today. Modern embalming is owed to the confluence of two factors: the American Civil War and the 1867 discovery of formaldehyde by German chemist August Wilhelm von Hofmann. The war decimated tens of thousands of young men in devastatingly short bursts of time, leaving battlefields quite literally covered in rotting dead bodies. Corpses were returned to families by train, but decomposition moves more quickly than rail.

A makeshift embalming practice created to receive casualties of the Civil War in a barn outside Fredericksburg, Virginia. Library of Congress

A group of enterprising young men began marketing their method of preserving the war’s casualties, using a pre-formaldehyde blend of chemicals including arsenic, zinc chloride, mercury, lead, salt, and various acids. Among them was Dr. Thomas Holmes, who would later be dubbed “the father of American embalming.” Holmes claimed to have personally embalmed more than 4,000 soldiers; he charged $100 per body.

Within a matter of decades, embalming was considered a highly specialized trade. The manual labor involved in picking up bodies and digging graves gained a medical sheen; embalmers insisted (and still insist) that their work protected the living from the dead, though scientific study has repeatedly shown that — with very few exceptions, Ebola being one of them — it is very hard to catch disease from dead bodies. (Embalmers, by contrast, come into direct contact with a known carcinogen each time they preserve a body: formaldehyde.)

No longer were bodies to be washed and displayed in the family home before burial. It was too risky, too unclean. Laypeople were encouraged to think of themselves as such; grieving and burial now required expert assistance. Undertaking became funeral direction.

The earliest mortuary schools were founded in the late 19th century by embalming chemical companies with the express purpose of teaching workers how to use their products. More than 120 years later, modern mortuary schools still exist primarily (if not exclusively) to teach students how to embalm.

But embalming is on the decline, and has been for some time. In its stead, cremation is booming: The national cremation rate in 2012 (the last year for which National Funeral Directors Association statistics are available) was 43.2%, up from 34.6% in 2007 and 26.17% in 2000. In some parts of the country, cremation rates are much higher: 74.2% in Nevada; 72.6% in Washington; figures right around 70% in Oregon, Hawaii, and Maine. Earlier this year, embalming was included in a list of disappearing middle-class jobs, with a projected 15% decline over the next 10 years.

And yet the funeral industry is slow to adjust for this. Most states have laws requiring funeral homes to have on-site embalming rooms, and many require casket showrooms as well. Cremation is hardly touched on in mortuary school, if at all. In order to become a licensed funeral director, graduating students must pass the national board exam — because the national board exam barely mentions cremation, the schools don’t either.

“You can actually get better training in the responsible and safe operation of a crematory by attending a two- or three-day seminar by the Cremation Association of North America than you get in mortuary school,” Josh Slocum tells me.

A former newspaper reporter, Slocum is the executive director of the Funeral Consumers Alliance, a 501(c)(3) charity that he likens to “Consumer Reports magazine for funerals and burials.” Its aim is to educate funeral consumers about their legal rights, which they do through reporting on industry trends at the national and state levels, providing funeral price comparison sheets and working with politicians to overturn or reverse industry laws they consider regressive and/or prohibitive.

“The problem with mortuary school is that it continues to propagate misinformation and outright falsehoods,” he says. “They are still teaching the bullshit that embalming is a public health measure. They’re teaching a curriculum that is about 125 years old. Most of these schools spend about nine months on practical embalming and the remainder of the time with a smattering of business administration, some very poor pop psychology, and not nearly enough about the legal responsibilities and duties that funeral directors have to the consumer.”

I should note that Slocum is speaking of the vast majority of mortuary science programs that are two-year associate’s degrees; he’s less familiar with four-year bachelor’s programs like SUNY Canton’s, but he’s not optimistic they’re using that extra time to any great advantage. In Slocum’s view, the schools (and the profession at large) cling to embalming not only because embalmed funerals are the ones that make funeral directors the most money, but because it’s the only thing they can point to as a marketable skill.

“The only thing that funeral directors do that the rest of us don’t is embalm. That’s it. Everything else they do, the administration, the organizing, all of this stuff — all of this used to be done by American families themselves,” he says. “Taking care of a dead person is not rocket science.”

Slocum is careful to acknowledge that even if any one of us can wash, prepare, and bury our dead relatives on our own, most of us won’t want to. And while the national trend may be reversing, for now, most people still get embalmed. What’s crucial is that we know we don’t have to be — it is not required by law.

That most people don’t spend a lot of time thinking about why they might request embalming for themselves or their family members is troubling to Doughty, who believes that embalming as standard American death practice is largely arbitrary.

“When I talk about embalming not having a lot of meaning, there are some people — African-American culture especially, in the South — that have a huge amount of meaning around the embalming process,” she says. “I’m actually all for that. But for most of the rest of U.S. culture, they don’t derive a lot of meaning from embalming. So what’s the point of that? Why are we paying for that, why are we continuing to support it as an institution if it’s not bringing us comfort and joy?”

Funeral direction need not be obsolete, Slocum says, but it does require a massive shift toward transparency, and away from the learned sanctimony. “They have it drugged into them that they are a special, almost priestly class of people who have this sacred calling. They’re being taught to value themselves as the experts without whom nobody can deal with death.”

To better serve the population, mortuary schools have to change — so much so that Slocum isn’t sure it wouldn’t be easier to start over completely.

“If they all closed today, I don’t think it would do any harm at all,” he says. “And it might actually do a little bit of good.”

Katie Heaney for BuzzFeed

There are a few reasons professor Barry Walch, who has been at Canton for 26 years, suspects the mortuary science program is growing. One is that a competing program, the Simmons Institute of Funeral Service in Syracuse, New York, closed last year after a number of female students accused the president, Maurice Wightman, of sexual harassment and gender discrimination. At the time of its closing, Simmons was the second-oldest mortuary science program in the country.

That Canton is now a four-year program is another draw, Walch tells me — he guesses that many high school kids now consider bachelor’s degrees the default minimum level of post-secondary education. Also — and he’s frank about this — the program isn’t especially challenging. “Anyone can get into it now,” he says. “It’s not that hard.”

Canton’s program was previously a two-year associate’s degree, but it lost accreditation a few years ago — not enough people were passing the board exams. (Schools must maintain a 60% passing rate to be accredited by the American Board of Funeral Service Education.) So they rebuilt, starting the four-year program in 2010, hoping the extra time would increase enrollment, benefit the students, and regain accreditation, which it did in 2012.

But it’s not clear the extension is helping: In 2013, according to the ABFSE, just two of four graduating students passed the board exams. When passing the board exams is what a program exists to do, that’s not good — particularly when you’re taking twice as long to do it. David Penepent offhandedly told me that he was glad to have me take class time to talk to the students because he had a whole semester to teach several weeks’ worth of material.

None of this is to say that the professors don’t hold their students in high esteem. “Anybody who gets through this program, I trust as a funeral director,” Walch tells me. “Although, three of our graduates are in jail,” he says, laughing. (He’s referring to the 2006 arrest of Michael Mastromarino and associates, who were found to be selling cadavers’ tissue on the black market.) The students enrolled now are great; Walch thinks having four years with them helps them to become more mature, more ethical.

Still, he worries that even if they are more prepared than the average mortuary science graduate, they won’t be able to find jobs. “Nobody trusts you in this business unless you have gray hair,” he tells me. I ask him what they do, then, between graduating at 22 and gray hair.

“Most of them won’t make it,” he says.

Photograph by Andrew Renneisen for BuzzFeed

Putty-colored molds of human heads are arranged in neat rows on the tables and shelves of the Restorative Arts laboratory. Each has a name taped on the base beneath it — Tyler, Sara, Ashley. The last one wears false eyelashes; each of them was shaped, and in some cases personalized, by the student it mimics. They’re a little lumpy, but they’re realistic, save for one thing: “The students all seem to have a hard time with the ears,” Penepent tells me, and it’s true — every pair appears tacked on, unnaturally flat and ridge-less.

Katie Heaney / BuzzFeed

These are the sculpturing models upon which students learn to restore cadavers. In some cases, this part of the embalming process is relatively simple, limited to the application of makeup and other cosmetic details. In others, the students — once certified — will be closing wounds, attempting to make injured or diseased heads seem whole again.

In today’s Restorative Arts lab, though, the students are starting a special project, one they hear about from older students, who recall it with a mixture of fondness and survivor’s bravado: the preparation and decoration of plaster life masks. Life masks (also called death masks) are not particularly common among today’s funeral traditions — “It’s a dying art,” says Penepent, pun painstakingly intended — but many mortuary schools still teach them. To Penepent, life mask preparation remains a valuable skill, an accessible and secular ritual that offers families a meaningful way to remember.

Plus, it is an excuse to papier-mâché the university president’s face once a year.

To say that Zvi Szafran is enthusiastic about the process he is about to undergo would be an overstatement; he seems, appropriately, like someone who thought the idea sounded sort of funny a few months ago, but, now that the day is actually here, cannot remember why. After a few brief jokes — delaying tactics — he gamely climbs onto the large wooden lab desk at the front of the room and lies down, resting his head on a pillow. The lab’s five students briefly discuss how best to protect Szafran’s clothing, settling on laying a clear plastic bag on top of his body and holding it in place with a Kleenex box placed on his stomach. He takes off his glasses, closes his eyes, and waits.

Katie Heaney / BuzzFeed

Penepent shows the students how to mix up a blue-green goo, which he applies to the president’s face with a tool that looks like a tongue depressor. Szafran lies very still as his face is covered save for two small nostril holes. A little trail of the mixture slides down through his left sideburn and onto his shirt collar. Penepent pauses every half-minute to ask if he can still breathe, which Szafran confirms with a thumbs-up. One begins to see the advantage in doing this on cadavers.

Around 3:00, a few of the building’s other classes let out, and the hallway outside the open lab door fills up with students walking by. Many of them, catching sight of this body lying still and covered in plastic on the table, do cartoonish double takes. Several stop completely — one young woman leans in the door, pointing at Szafran, and in a tone much less alarmed than her question would suggest, asks, “Is he dead?” To a group of three friends who pause outside the door in clear hopes someone will explain to them what is happening, Penepent says, “That’s our president — he’s making a good impression.” (He will repeat this joke three more times in the course of the afternoon.)

After waiting 20 minutes to dry, Szafran is told he can finally sit up. The mask comes off easily at first, and then not very. Bits of plaster cling to his hair and face, and he yelps a few times as Penepent pulls it away. Finally it’s decided he needs to use scissors. The mask is clipped off, right along with Szafran’s right sideburn.

Katie Heaney / BuzzFeed

“Let’s talk about your tenure,” he semi-jokes to Penepent.

Once he’s freed and cleaned up (students Emily and Kelsey dab at his chin and collar with wet wipes) with glasses back on, in generally good spirits all things considered, Szafran appraises the form of his face: the squishy blue interior and the hard, white shell.

“Is this what you do all day?” he asks the students, who laugh and say yes, more or less, it is.

“I’ve got news for you,” he says. “In theater, the kids practice kissing.”

Photograph by Andrew Renneisen for BuzzFeed

In 1999, Social Psychology Quarterly published an ethnography titled “Emotional Capital and Professional Socialization: The Case of Mortuary Science Students (and Me),” by Spencer E. Cahill, a former professor of sociology at the University of South Florida who died in 2006. For five months, Cahill studied and lived among a group of mortuary science students, primarily interested in their socialization and their emotional reactions to the course material. He writes: “Shunned by the other students and weary of their morbid curiosity, most of the students … stick together.”

To put it plainly, other people, a lot of the time, think the mortuary students are freaks. So they hang out with one another, in school, and then — if they do join the field — for years and years afterward. They get more insulated, more defensive. “Because we’re such babies when it comes to this stuff, and we’re so easily terrified by it, culturally we’ve put them into sort of a quarantined circle,” says Slocum. Every student here has been made fun of for it and is here anyway, thinking about death, addressing it daily, head-on.

So why do they do it? Doughty believes it has a lot to do with our somewhat generational search for purpose: “Mortuary school gives you meaning right away. It forces you to address [death] in a very deep way almost immediately, and I don’t know that people can ignore that,” she tells me. “That’s a thrilling thing.” There are practical reasons too: Mortuary school is cheaper than medical school, and shorter. Some have family in the business. Some don’t know how to explain it; they are young.

And yes, they all really want to help people. There are other ways to try, but this is one.

“I always wanted to be a counselor of some sort, and I never really knew why,” Katie tells me. “But then I saw the embalming process and the science behind it really interested me. That is so morbid to tell someone, like, ‘I find death cool.’ But it is.”

Photograph by Andrew Renneisen for BuzzFeed

Embalming is what first drew Katie to mortuary science, and what keeps many of her peers most fascinated; almost all the students I talk to name it as their favorite class. They think it’s challenging and fun. They are told that family viewing of the embalmed body is vital to the grieving process, and they believe it. Other options are always dutifully acknowledged, but generally as secondary alternatives to the proper norm. Of cremated (or otherwise body-less) funerals, Penepent tells me, “It’s like going to a party without the birthday cake.”

I ask Katie why, if embalming is on the slow but steady decline, she thinks it’s still so central to her education and why there isn’t more said about cremation, or green burials. “I think it’s because embalming is going to always be around regardless,” she says. “However you choose, cremation or embalming, there’s still — you can still do whatever you want. But I mean, I don’t know. I don’t know why it’s such a focus.”

At the beginning of Funeral Home Management I, Penepent tells the students, “Everyone looks wonderful. My compliments to the embalmers.” He pauses. “That’s a joke.” Later, while he lectures, I notice the same phrase printed on his coffee mug.

Class wraps up a little early so I can talk to the students. I ask how many of them knew they wanted to do this in high school. (More than half.) I ask what people get wrong about them. (They don’t play with dead bodies.) I ask them what’s going to be hard about being a funeral director.

A student named Autumn raises her hand. “It’ll be hard to remember not to tell people that everything’s going to be OK. It’s not true,” she says. “And it’s rude.”

Autumn explains that a friend of hers died last summer, of a heroin overdose. Knowing that she was studying to be a funeral director, the small community where she grew up looked to her for support. She is 20 years old.

“I had to take everyone else’s grief,” she says. “Seeing everyone come to me was hard.” It is clear from her face, though, that she doesn’t hold this against anyone. This is her job now.

Photograph by Andrew Renneisen for BuzzFeed


Caitlin Doughty has been working in the funeral industry for seven years. A previous version misstated the number of years. BF_STATIC.timequeue.push(function () { document.getElementById(“update_article_correction_time_4472036″).innerHTML = UI.dateFormat.get_formatted_date(‘2014-12-12 07:34:31 -0500′, ‘update’); });

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