Undertaking a Difficult Sales Job

Heather: Actually, it's a blast! When I call people, and I say I am calling on behalf of the National Funeral Directors Association, they say, "Omigod, is it my time?"

Me:

Heather: Well, I enjoy it.

Me: You poor baby. It's not like having to drum up fluffy publicity for Hasbro toys or the state lottery or the puppy and kitten industry, is it? You really have to work at this, don't you?

Heather: I like to think I always work very hard.

Me: I'm not without a heart, and, frankly, Heather, it is nearly breaking. I'm going to make you an offer. I am going to ease your burden. I will print whatever positive things you say about the funeral directors, right now. I will suspend all journalistic skepticism, because I feel so sorry for you. Go ahead. Anything you want to say about funeral directors, and it goes from your mouth into the pages of The Washington Post, unedited and unverified. Go crazy. Lionize them! Lie!

Heather: I really can't comment on that.

Me: What?

Heather: I'm only qualified to speak on the mass fatality issue.

Me: My God. You are a saint.

Heather: If you knew more about it, you'd understand. If there were an avian flu pandemic, what would happen with all of those bodies? I know this sounds morbid, but . . .

Me: Stop!

Heather: . . . but what would happen if 1.9 million people died in months? We don't put people in mass graves like some Third World countries do. What happens to all those bodies?

- - -

I simply couldn't let her go on. Heather might not be my choice for, say, an inspirational speaker or toastmistress at a Goodfellows banquet, but she is a PR person, doing her job. I wish Morticia, I mean Heather, only the best -- a client that is easier to represent, such as the American Association of Nose-Pickers and Sexual Deviants.

Gene Weingarten's e-mail address is weingarten@washpost.com.

Chat with him online Tuesdays at noon at www.washingtonpost.com.