Will The Co-operative Group throw Funeralcare to the wolves?

On 2 July this year the Co-operative Group’s executive team visited Rochdale. The chief exec, Euan Sutherland, tweeted: “Spent the day at Rochdale Pioneers Museum with the Exec immersing ourselves in Co-operative heritage. Fantastic, inspirational, relevant”.

All very heartening if you’re one of those who inclines to the view that capitalism is essentially sociopathic, and that therein lie the seeds of its destruction. 

Disillusionment with capitalism does not in itself boost the credentials of co-operation. The history of consumer co-operatives is not especially glorious. They tend to start well then lose their way, demutualise, play copy-fatcat.

The history of worker co-operatives shines more brightly — as John Lewis and Waitrose testify.

Ethical values in themselves are no determinants of commercial fertility. The history of ethical values demonstrates that, actually, they are best exemplified by those people who renounce material things. Had Gandhi been driven everywhere in a Rolls Royce and dressed in a Prada suit, the story of Indian independence would read otherwise.

For this reason, the words ‘ethical business’, attractive as they are, have something of the flavour of an oxymoron.

But this is what The Co-operative Group claims to be, ethical, never more stridently than in recent weeks from amidst the twisted wreckage of its wretched bank. It is now 70 per cent owned by its creditors, including a bunch of American hedge funds. Rather than die of shame it instead proclaims new life: “By continuing to have regard for the highest standards of ethical principles we are more committed than ever to ensuring the Co-operative Bank remains just as special for years to come.”

Ethical schmethical. The bank has lost the title to call itself a co-operative in the sense of a jointly owned and democratically controlled enterprise. To call itself co-operative is now patently misleading and is rightly being legally challenged.

Where did it all go wrong for The Co-operative Group (as opposed to co-operative values)? The Daily Telegraph reports ceo Euan Sutherland conceding with refreshing honesty that “the organisation has lost it way, and, referencing the founding Rochdale Pioneers, that its recent controversial history was not what the organisation was set up for.” You can easily see the shades of the Pioneers nodding in sorrowful assent.

Whether or not, fuelled by the Rochdale Principles, The Co-op can in the future succeed in its core mission of enabling working people to buy those things that they would otherwise be unable to afford we shall have to wait and see. We simply note that, at a time when there is increasing anxiety about funeral poverty, Co-operative Funeralcare has offered no lead and generated no initiatives. Nothing.

The Pioneers surely would have.

Having said all of which, it may already be too late to lose any more sleep over the way Funeralcare has fallen short of — betrayed, some would say — its ethical values. Because it’s beginning to look as if, in order to bring the Group back into profitability, The Co-operative Group may be about to shed its funerals operation and throw it to the capitalists. The same Telegraph article tells us:

Mr Sutherland, who took control of the mutual from May 1, said that in order to reduce the current £1.3bn bank debt, it must look to productivity, efficiency, and selling some of its assets. Divisions which will not be sold include its food retail business and its pharmacy business, it is understood. Non-core arms are thought to include the funeral business and its security business, but Mr Sutherland would not comment further.

Given the deep loathing with which the top chaps at Funeralcare regard the GFG (good morning, Mr Tinning), we can forgive you for supposing that we’d celebrate this with a day at the races. But we emphatically wouldn’t. First, our politics here are pink. Second, we’d deplore the impact of this on the many excellent people in Funeralcare, especially on the shop floor (not the management). When Sutherland talks of productivity and efficiency, he’s using the language of the time and motion man. We can only imagine the effect that ‘efficiencies’ are having on good men and women right now.

Third, we regard the funerals business as pre-eminently suited to a social enterprise business model. We’d like to see Funeralcare given another chance to get it right and be what it says on its tin.

The Sunday Times has been told by Sutherland that “every private equity group in Europe” wants to buy Funeralcare, but that he is not minded to sell.

Time will tell. The man needs to find £500 million fast. If he’s minded to sell, let him talk to an excellent worker’s co-operative that we’ve long thought would make a very good fist of it. Tune in, please, John Lewis. 

A warrior’s sendoff

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It all started with an announcement in the Blackpool Gazette (above). 

Then it was taken up by Sgt Rick Clement of The Duke of Lancaster’s Regiment. Rick lost both of his legs to an IED in Afghanistan. He runs a fundraising website “in order to give something back to the various charities that have helped me and my family on the road to recovery.

Rick put a message on his Facebook page echoing the call for people to attend the funeral of Harold Jellicoe ‘Coe’ Percival, who served in RAF Bomber Command as ground crew in world war two and thereafter led a nomadic life, much of it in Australia, before somehow ending up in Blackpool. He never married. All family ties had dissolved. 

The Facebook appeal went viral and was shared by comedian Jason Manford. It now looks as if there’s going to be a terrific attendance at Mr Percival’s funeral, which is scheduled for 12 midday on Monday (11.11). 

Well done to Mr Clement’s undertaker, Roland Whitehead and Daughter, for  their original announcement. And a big thank you from the GFG to the funeral worker in Blackpool who was kind enough to ring us up and tell us about this. 

Full story here

Lest you forget

Remembrance Sunday brings the nation together in commemoration of those who fought and died in war. Old soldiers don their medals and attend church parades. Those who think this smacks too much of glorification mark the event in other ways.

But no one will pass through Sunday and then Monday (11.11) unaffected by the anniversary. Everyone has their own take on it.

For inhabitants of the Isle of Portland, where this blog will lay its bones, Remembrance Sunday has a particularly poignant resonance. You see, the Cenotaph was dug from the bowels of our island, and we islanders have a strong sense of connectedness with our exiled stone. 

The Cenotaph was actually quarried in virgin ground. Once enough stone had been dug for the monument, the workings were filled in and quarried no more.

The Cenotaph was designed by Sir Edwin Lutyens and incorporates some sophisticated geometry. The sides are not parallel, but if extended would meet at a point some 980 feet above the ground. The horizontal surfaces are in fact sections of a sphere whose centre would be 900 feet below ground.

Portland stone commemorates those who have died in battle in other ways. All those headstones you see in cemeteries maintained by the Commonwealth War Graves Commission and in cemeteries and churchyards across Britain: all Portland stone. 

The National Memorial Arboretum? Portland stone. 

As is, appropriately for an organisation created to bring an end to war, the United Nations headquarters in New York. 

Portland stone is not associated exclusively with solemn occasions. No royal wedding would be complete without an appearance by the happy couple on the balcony of Buckingham Palace. Yes, you guessed it: Portland stone. 

When the fog feels like a cage without a key

All so-called caring professions suffer from it. The difference is that they talk about it. If the British stiff upper lip is making its last stand, it’s down among the undertakers where resistance is mutely fiercest.

We’re talking about Can’t-Take-It-Anymore Syndrome, aka compassion fatigue, burnout, depression, nervous breakdown.  Read all the symptoms here.

How could undertakers possibly be exempt from burnout? After all, they deal, day after remorseless day, with grief and trauma. It’s not just that they see things they can never forget, they are the ones who have pick up the pieces — literally. Everyone else at a disaster scene, the police and the paramedics, has counsellors on hand to tend to their emotional health. Not the undertakers.

Burnout happens to undertakers too, of course, but mostly in a quietly desperate and deeply lonely way. Support networks in the industry, where they exist, tend to consist of friendly fellow undertakers or close family. This is an industry where there’s an expectation on you to grin and bear it – dammit, we’re funeral people, this is what we do —  as soldiers say to a wounded comrade, you shouldn’t have joined the army if you can’t take a joke. The trade associations, NAFD and Saif, offer no formal emotional support or counselling services to their members. The predicament of those who work outside supportive family businesses – in the big chains, for example – looks perilous.

Some burnout sufferers manage to maintain a mask of professionalism behind which they grow jaded and despairing. Vengeful, even. Remember that horrible old kids-hating teacher when you were at school? Like that. Remember that FSO who stole the purse of the dead woman from her bedside? He said: “For six-and-a-half years I have been in this job and have seen some very vile, nasty and horrible things. Decomposed bodies, people that have been run over, things like that. I saw the purse, I did take it and I thought it was the way out. I have never done anything like this before and I’m sorry.”  We should be sorry, too – sorry for him.

Other uncharacteristic behaviours include being horrible to dead people, partners, children. A lot of innocent people get caught up in the crash-and-burn. One way out for a business owner is to ignominiously sell up, which is why Funeral Service Partners temptingly target crash-and-burn undertakers: ‘A funeral director’s profession requires total commitment and over the years this can cause exhaustion and burnout. With FSP’s investment, you can retain your commitment to your company, but begin to breathe again too.’

British undertakers don’t talk about this much, not publicly anyway – nowhere googlable. No surprise there; they’re not a pen-to-paper species. But the American undertaker Caleb Wilde has talked about it quite a lot, bravely and from his own experience:

I take 40 mg of antidepressants each day.  I’ve done so since my last dangerous bout with burnout some five years ago.  Life loses its value.  I lose empathy.  And the boundaries that stand between me and self-harm become very thin … You think about leaving your wife because you see just how awful you’ve become and you don’t want that person to be near the ones you love. 

You can read more of Caleb’s thoughts on this here and here and here

Given what to many looks like the most unhealthy emotional diet in the labour market, dealing with death all day, it’s amazing to me (once an outsider, always an outsider) just how emotionally healthy most undertakers are. Sure, there are some who are protected by their lack of emotional intelligence, but the good ones, of whom there are far more than people think, are men and women of deep sensibility and an extraordinary ability to throw themselves fresh into the fray, new every morning. It’s astonishing and moving.

Which isn’t to say that there probably isn’t more they can and ought to do to promote healthymindedness. I wonder, for example, whether all this talk about service is such a good thing, as in: I didn’t choose the profession, the profession chose me. The highest and most fulfilling experience in life can be that feeling and recognition of following your calling … Funeral service is one of the few professions or vocations where doing your job equates to “dispensing mercy.” [Source

Is that a bit overegged? Sanctimonious, even? As for selflessness, it can be taken to extremes. Too much of it, and you’re left without any self at all. Mightn’t a better relationship with the bereaved be defined as a more collaborative one – for the emotional benefit of both parties?

In the same way, I have to confess to wincing every time I hear an undertaker or arranger talking in that possessive way about ‘my families’.

Again, it’s an American who talks about this most articulately. This time, it’s deathbiz guru Alan Creedy:

Are you addicted to helping others or are your customer relationships creating unhealthy responses? Perhaps you’ve fallen victim to the Rescuer Syndrome. One of the common threads I am discovering as I get deeper into the study of culture within the funeral profession is the belief that one must be a “suffering servant” doing what we are told and working long hard hours for low pay. This belief often becomes a badge of honor for some. Funeral Directors are supposed to be caregivers. But too many take it too far. They hate confrontation, preferring encounters that result in gratitude if not downright worship. They begin to define themselves by their ability to generate effusive gratitude on the part of those they serve. 

Whatever the truth of that, and you’ll probably say that most Brit undertakers take a more down to earth view of their work than this, there is clearly more that undertakers ought to be doing to look after themselves and each other when they encounter emotional bad weather. 

UPDATE: 07-11-2013 @ 11.52. I have just received the following response from the NAFD:

“Funeral Directing is first and foremost a caring profession, with funeral directors and arrangers looking after the bereaved in often difficult and distressing circumstances. Like the emergency services and other caring professions, this means employees within the funeral service sector can sometimes suffer as a result of the stresses of caring for both the living and the dead.

“The NAFD has discussed the impact of compassion fatigue within the funeral profession and provided advice to members to make sure they take proactive steps to look after their employees’ emotional wellbeing – as part of their duty of care as employers. Individual employers within the profession offer differing levels of support, with some offering access to outsourced counselling support for their employees and others actively encouraging staff to share the details of particularly stressful or upsetting experiences so to encourage peer support – making it easier for staff, who may be feeling low, to speak up.

“The NAFD has also had discussions with a couple of organisations which provide counselling and psychotherapy support to discuss this issue and member firms are signposted to these organisations through the members section of the NAFD website.”

Remembrance Day #3

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The window of the Individual Funeral Company, Oxford. 

Proprietor Lucy Jane tells us: ‘Almost everything in the window was donated by my cousins Lewis & Chay Coulbert and was used by them in Afghanistan. They also gave me lots of pictures. The large one in the front of the window is Lewis while he was in the Grenadier Guards with the Queen.’

Have you seen a really good Remembrance Day window? Snap it and send it in, please! 

RIP R Sage ur a ledgend & ull be back

MAyer

 

In case you missed it, the Mary Mayer Funeral Home, run by the mischievous Richard Sage under the moniker of Mark Kerbey, is in liquidation. He’s still there and was sighted at the crem a couple of days ago. Our spies have him under observation with strong binoculars. 

Where next will he rise again from the dead? 

Thank you, Nick Gandon, for spotting his latest demise. 

Undertakers on parade

Undertakers aren’t noted for versatility when it comes to window-dressing, and they’re not to be blamed for this. If you’re in the death business there’re all sorts of things you simply can’t put on display.  

Not that this in any way excuses an assortment of dusty headstones and urns dotted by dead flies and flanked by faded plastic flowers. There’s no excuse for not trying. 

Remembrance Day, though, gives undertakers’ windows a rare topicality and licenses a riot of colour. All at once, our undertakers can ride the public mood and fill their windows with of all manner of patriotic commemorabilia. 

That time of year is with us once more and, as you can see above, Park Funeral Directors in Barry, Wales, have already put on a pretty good show. 

We welcome any other pics of outstanding undertakers’ windows. Please send yours to charles@goodfuneralguide.co.uk

Introducing the Citroen Type-H hearse

You’ll be wanting to give a warm welcome to John Turvill’s Citroen Type-H van hearse. He’s been getting it ready for a while now, and we have enjoyed corresponding with him as he has drawn closer to launching. The website’s not finished yet — his photographer hasn’t managed to make time yet to snap it from all angles — but the van is ready to work.

You can see that John has given 100% attention to all the sorts of things that undertakers worry about. It’s mechanically perfect, the bodywork is as good as it gets and the deck is everything you would expect and require.

For anyone who would like to tell their clients about the van, John has produced a postcard (illustrated below). Contact him and he’ll send you some.

The other really important thing you’ll want to know is: is John a nice person? Based on our correspondence with him, the answer to that is a big yes. 

Find John’s landing-page-only (as yet) website + contact details here

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Habeas corpse

Bristol undertaker Thomas Davis has been branded a “‘Burke and Hare’ operation” by MP Caroline Noakes after her constituent Peter Williams accused the undertakers of taking his mother-in-law’s body from Bristol Royal Infirmary and keeping it for ten days without asking.

She said: “Thomas Davis acted unlawfully, because all that had been requested by the Williams family was for them to provide a quote for their services and make provisional inquiries with a local crematorium. There was no contract, no formal quote and at no time were the family informed the body had been collected. Furthermore, at no time was any of the paperwork, required under Department of Health or hospital guidelines for the release of Mrs Pugh’s body, handed over by the family.”

A spokesperson for Thomas Davis claimed that the family had instructed the firm to carry out the funeral, and that the mortuary had released the body owing to “high standing and well-respected reputation” of the undertaker.

The NAFD sided with the undertaker: “The board believe that Thomas Davis acted in good faith, on the understanding that they had been given instructions from Mrs Williams to proceed with the funeral arrangements and have therefore agreed not to take the matter further.”

The hospital apologised to the family and blamed a member of the mortuary staff. (When big things happen, it’s the little guys who get it in the neck.) 

Full story in the Bristol Post here

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