FDLIC Corporate Officers blog about current issues in the preneed industry and in funeral service, providing insight, commentary, and news updates.
A Life Lesson
Tuesday, February 16, 2010
I was twenty two years old and serving as an apprentice mortician in the German farming community of Fairfax, MN. Orin was in his late eighties. He was there to bury his wife of 63 years.
Orin and Gladys hadn't lived in Fairfax for decades, but Gladys wanted to be buried at Fort Ridgely Cemetery in rural Nicollet County. This final leg of her earthly journey would place her body near her childhood home overlooking the majestic Minnesota River Valley.
Fort Ridgely is a unique place. Originally Fort Ridgely was a U.S. Army outpost built in 1853 to protect white settlers during the U.S.-Dakota wars that raged until the early 1860's. In addition to the historic fort, Fort Ridgely is home to a cemetery, a state park, and a nine-hole golf course that once had Astro-Turf greens.
It is also home to one of my greatest life lessons.
As the arrangement conference ended, I asked Orin if he wanted me to arrange to have Gladys' date of death inscribed on their monument. Orin said that wouldn't be necessary because he and Gladys had not purchased a stone. He asked if I knew of someone who could help him.
Just a few months earlier, Al, the owner of the funeral home, asked me if I wanted to offer monuments and markers to the families we served. He thought it would be a great service to families if they could take care of this purchase while completing their funeral arrangements. He also said I could keep the commission. Newly married, with a small baby at home and student loans to pay off, I was interested. "After all," I thought to myself. "How complicated could this be?"
A week or so after the funeral, I called Orin to set an appointment. He lived at the Masonic Home in Bloomington which was about 120 miles away, so I offered to come his way. With my wife and son in tow, we drove over in our 1987 Mercury Lynx station wagon loaded with a car seat and an over-sized black briefcase packed full of granite samples and brochures. As my wife and son waited for me in the car, I went in to make my pitch.
Orin was just like I remembered him a week earlier: gentle, warm, funny, and sharp as a tack. As we visited, I asked Orin what he did before he retired. He said he spent more than 40 years as an over-the-road salesman. "Peddling my wares" was how he put it. Taking this as a cue to get started, I jumped in. I asked him what kind of monument he wanted. He said "Show me what you got." That was when the trouble started.
I grabbed a brochure and cracked it open. Orin pointed at a slant marker and asked, "How much is that one?" I fumbled around looking for my pricelist. After taking several minutes to find the correct price, he asked about changing out the floral design that pictured in the brochure. And he wondered what that might cost. He also wondered what the total installed price would be. After several painful minutes of panic, I admitted that I had no idea. He grew frustrated.
As a seasoned sales professional, he knew that I had no idea how to answer his questions even before I did, just by reading the look on my face. He knew this appointment was over. And I knew he was going to tell me.
And right then--at that very moment--he took the brochure from my hand, folded up my price book and packed everything back into my briefcase. He placed his hand on my knee and said, "Son, I can tell that you weren't prepared for this appointment." His agitation began to fade and a warm glow reappeared in his eyes. "I'll tell you what. You take your things with you and you go study up. When you get this stuff all figured out, you come back here and we'll make a deal." All I could think to say was, "Yes, sir. Thank you, sir," as I retreated out the door.
I returned home with a commitment to learn everything I could about the granite business. I attended training in Sioux Falls, South Dakota, I spent time with Chuck, my granite company representative, I studied my products and materials, and I practiced my "pitch" until I knew Orin would approve.
A few months later, I made that return trip to the Masonic Home in Bloomington. I'll never forget the proud look in that man's kind eyes as we concluded the deal with a hearty handshake. To this day, I can drive right into Fort Ridgely Cemetery and walk right over to the stone that marks the grave of the man who gave me a great life lesson.