DEATH BECOMES HER

When I accepted the job of obituary writer, I initially thought I would stay one or two years while I built up my post-college work history. While it can be a high pressure, high stress job at times (but then again, what job doesn’t have its share of pressure or stress?), I have quite a fondness for what I do and have had work experiences I would not have had if I were in any other line of work.

            That being said, however, from time to time I still experience a slight twinge of self-consciousness about my work and it occurs when I am going out on a date. For one thing, my schedule keeps me at work nights and weekends, limiting my opportunities to go out and meet people. When I do have a date, it is usually during the middle of the week, like Wednesday or Thursday. So any potential suitors have to contend with an unusually demanding work schedule.

            While scheduling issues can be worked out, it’s the conversation aspect I’m most concerned about. For example, several years ago I briefly dated a NASA meteorologist. He was a very nice guy, if a little on the shy side, but while he was discussing weather patterns and projects he was working on, I was filling him in on changes the paper was making to the obituary page. Halfway through our first date the thought occurred to me that he must think I’m incredibly morbid for discussing our high volume of obituaries over drinks and appetizers. It was one of the few times I ever wondered if I’d be more fun on a date if I’d chosen a different occupation.

            Last summer, I broke down and decided to try dating a guy who worked at a funeral home. I resisted for a long time because I was afraid the relationship would be a little too clichéd: an obituary writer dating a funeral home employee. During dinner, I didn’t feel quite as self-conscious because we quite a lot in common work wise. Despite the pleasant nature of the date, I’m sure we made the other patrons of the restaurant uneasy with our in-depth and at times graphic discussions of the unsavory practices of some notorious funeral homes given that it was seniors’ night at a seafood restaurant.

            Now I’m single again and hopeful that the new year will usher in a new relationship. Of course, this time out I think I’m going to ease into any in-depth discussion of my work. While I like what I do, it is amazing how one’s job can shape their sense of identity.