Thursday, November 1, 2007

Unsolicited Love Letters

Hey, I'm back. I was going to comment on our trip to Chicago (and I will later) but a couple of things that came up this week prompts me to talk a little about death. That is because once you retire, you begin to get things in the mail and phone calls trying to help you ease into a smooth transition from the living to the dead.

Earlier this week I got a call from Chase trying to sell me a plan to protect us from unemployment. Before I could get a word in, the person on the other end wanted to make sure that my payments could be deferred if I became unemployed. Once it was my turn to talk, I explained that I was retired. Then the tone and tactic switched. I had to protect my loved ones from death. The minute they discovered I was retired, my death seemed imminent and I just had to have the coverage to make sure I did not leave a loved one with debt. I assured them I was in fine physical condition and had no intention of dying in the immediate future so I was not interested.

Next came the "Love Letter" from a local funeral home. Now I know they have good intentions and eventually I will "prearrange" everything but just because a person retires does not mean that it is critical that you plan your final rest. Many retire early as I did and we are not sitting around waiting for a final resting place believe me. So, be prepared as you advance in age, you will not only be deluged with crap from the death merchants, the AARP will provide you with enough paper to cover a rather large home.

3 comments:

mielikki said...

As long as you don't get run over by a bus tomorrow you'll be fine! LOL
my parents have been getting bombarded with that junk for quite a while now. . .
they finally gave up, did their "arrangements" and now can tell the vultures to piss off.

CamiKaos said...

next time just tell them you don't like your ids very much so it doesn't matter ;)

Bubblewench said...

Ok, um, since this has been on my mind alot lately and I can't get straight answers out of my parents when I ask 'Have arragnements been made?'

Now I know I can just dig a hole in the backyard and wrap them in all the deathmerchant mail and call it good.