The Will to Die

by Joe Pulizzi

  I pulled a cigarette pack out of my jacket. There were three cigarettes inside the dented box. I took one out and started digging for a lighter. Without saying a word, Roger flicked his lighter and held it out for me.

  “Thanks,” I said.

  “Judging from the shape of that cigarette, you don’t smoke very often,” Roger said.

  “Guilty as charged,” I said. “It’s my emergency pack. It’s been a tough week, so I’m allowing myself to smoke and drink at will.”

  “I take it that’s why you’re in town?”

  “Yep, death in the family.”

  “My condolences,” Roger said.

  “Thanks. Hey, you said you work in insurance. I have an odd insurance question if you don’t mind.”

  “Shoot.”

  “Have you heard of a life settlement? The first I heard of it was earlier today, and I didn’t think something like that existed.”

  “Oh, I can tell you anything you want to know about life settlements. It’s hotter than Bitcoin, and my first piece of advice is to stay away from them. The devil’s handiwork those are.”

  “Are they new?”

  “Not exactly. They’ve been around since the early 1900s, same as reverse mortgages, but now the big insurance companies, always looking for a buck, have created all these subcompanies that sell life settlements, and the industry has made it look like legitimate business. If you stay up late enough, all the commercials you’ll see are for either Viagra or life settlements.”

  “How exactly do they work?” I asked.

  “An insurance agent or broker, working for one of those large subcompanies, will scour the coverage area looking for anyone with, let’s say, a five-hundred-thousand-dollar policy or greater. Then they’ll get that data and cross-reference it with financial issues. Like maybe you haven’t been paying your bills on time, or maybe you had to downsize from a house to an apartment. Then they’ll take that list—did you see that movie Glengarry Glen Ross? Well this would be like the Glengarry leads, the good leads. Anyway, then they do their ambulance-chasing. They’ll call or visit or send emails and go fishing.”

  Roger pulled out another cigarette and continued. “They’ll tell you that you can get your insurance money now before you die and it’s all legal. This is especially promising for those who have lost their beneficiaries or maybe hate them and don’t want to leave anything to them upon death,” he said smiling. “Once the broker gets them interested, he runs the numbers with the subcompany on high, or maybe a couple of them, and they’ll quote him a figure. Generally, you’ll see something between fifty K and a hundred fifty K for a five-hundred-thousand-dollar policy, or maybe two hundred to two fifty for a million-dollar policy, depending on a number of factors. They use a very complicated formula to ascertain the current value and then give a ‘fair offer’ to the life insurance holder, which is generally quite a bit more than the cash surrender value of the policy. But in the end, the person who sells their life insurance policy receives some percentage of cash from the insurance company.”

  “So what’s the catch?” I asked.

  “The insurance company or third party that buys the policy is betting that you’ll die sooner than the math tells you. So let’s say you sell your five hundred K policy for a hundred K, and you’re healthy as a horse. But then the next week you die. The insurance company just made four hundred K, getting the entire death benefit of the policy, and all they had to give you was a hundred K. But if the individual would have waited that week and not sold, the person’s beneficiary would have received the full five hundred K in cash.

  “The long and short of it? I guess if you really need the money and this is your only way, then fine. Kind of like those check-cashing places. But I’ve stayed entirely away from that business. There are a lot of better ways for an insurance agent to make money than betting on when someone will kick the bucket. It does feel a little like gambling. Make sense?”

  “Totally, great explanation. Thanks!”

  “If I may ask, how did you come across a life settlement?”

  “My dad was in the funeral business. One of his customers paid for their father’s funeral with life settlement money.”

  “I’m surprised this is the first time you’ve seen it,” Roger said.

  We exchanged phone numbers for support, which was pretty much standard practice at GA meetings, said our good-byes, and I headed for the parking lot.

  On my drive back to Dad’s house, Roger’s last comment hung in the air. I’m surprised this is the first time you’ve seen it. I made a mental note to review Dad’s diaries and customer notes again to see if this had come up before.

  Chapter 10 – The Ultimatum

  It was six thirty the next morning when I arrived at the funeral home, and both Jack and Janet were already there. I found them in the coffee room. “Why are you two in so early?”

  They looked at each other and smiled. “How do you think shit gets done around here, boy?” Jack said. “We can’t mosey in at eight like normal people and expect the world to cooperate.”

  Then Janet turned to me and said, “The phone’s been ringing nonstop since I walked in at six. Looks like people are just finding out about your father, so we should expect a full day of calls and visits, even though visitation isn’t until tomorrow.”

  “Got it,” I said, and headed for Dad’s office.

  This time it took me only five minutes to find the right key to the closet. I opened the door and pulled the chain on the light. I went to the top shelf where I thought the most recent notebooks were. The diary writing tailed off starting in 2015. There were twelve notebooks for 2014, eight for 2015, and six for 2016. I could only find two for 2017.

  I pulled out the 2017 notebooks and prepared for a full review. They were unlike the diaries I’d found from previous years. In these, Dad skipped days at a time and generally only posted about picking up bodies or visitations or funerals that interested him in some way. The death calls he detailed were the most interesting, and I appreciated his writing style.

  Janet buzzed me from her office. It was a call from Uncle Dan.

  “Hey, son,” Dan said. “There’s a luncheon of the downtown city leaders today. The group is called the Sandusky Alliance—SA for short. Your father helped create it. Anyway, I’d like you to join us today.”

  “Sure, I guess,” I said. “You don’t think I’d be out of place?”

  “No, no. Not at all,” Dan said. “If you decide to take over the funeral home, they’ll probably want you in the group anyway. It’s good timing.”

  “Okay,” I said. Dan gave me the location and I told him I’d see him there.

  Sitting at my dad’s desk, I tried to think what he would do during this portion of the day if he were still alive. When I was younger and used to follow him around the funeral home, one of his main activities was walking around the place and talking to all the employees. He would see how they were doing and ask them questions, both business and personal. I remember him telling me, Will, a true leader never hides in his office. A leader needs to be visible. A leader needs to care about his employees. And you have to be consistent about it. You have to get out there every day and talk to them.

  My first stop? To see how Sam was doing. I found her in the embalming room.

  “So, how was your meeting last night?”

  “I’m not sure we’re at a point where I can talk about my after-dinner meetings with you,” Sam said.

  “You’re right. Sorry I brought it up,” I said. “Actually, I was hoping to talk to you about the funeral home for a few minutes.”

  “That’s fine,” she said, looking at Mr. Davies, who was completely naked lying on a working table. In looking at him from this perspective, I had no idea how Jack and I pulled him off the toilet. “I don’t think Mr. Davies is going anywhere at the moment.”

  “I could use a refill,” I said, looking into my cup. “How about we go upstairs to the kitchen?”

  In the ki
tchen, Sam began looking at the different coffee flavors, and I closed the kitchen door. I didn’t want anyone to listen in at the moment. While Sam’s coffee brewed, I leaned back against the sink.

  “I’ll get right to the point, Sam. I haven’t made a decision yet, but I’m still considering whether to take over Dad’s business. And I know exactly what that means for you.” I took a deep breath and exhaled. My brain kept telling me to take the money and run, especially for Jess’s sake, but something in my gut told me that was the wrong decision. “Now, I don’t want this to seem like an ultimatum, because it definitely isn’t, but I’ll only do this if you decide to stay. If you tell me that you can’t work with me, I’m not going to do it.”

  Sam poured some half-and-half into her cup and had a seat at the kitchen table while I popped a breakfast blend into the Keurig. “It certainly sounds like an ultimatum, a weird one, but an ultimatum, nonetheless. You’re making your decision completely dependent on what I decide to do?”

  “You should be flattered,” I said.

  “Oh, grow a pair, Will,” she said. “You need to make this decision independent of what I do. That’s what your father would want you to do.”

  I took a seat across the table from Sam. “I’m not so sure of that, Sam. You’re the best there is at what you do, and outside of being good with people and understanding the mechanics of the funeral business, I don’t know shit. I’ve looked at the reports. I’ve looked at the numbers. There might be some things I can do to turn this around, but you run the core business. There are some things that are going to need to happen quickly around here, but none of that can happen if I have to find a new embalmer who can’t do half the things you do.”

  Sam looked down at her coffee. “This is not ten years ago when I helped get your marketing business off the ground. Now I love what I do and don’t want to stop by any means. I know I’m good at it and it’s truly meaningful work, but how do I know you won’t take the business and screw everyone over.”

  Sam always knew how to get to the point quickly.

  “Honestly, you don’t. I might come in here and screw it up. Since we split up, I’ve been getting help. It’s a daily grind, but as long as I focus on the right things, go to the meetings, ask for help when I need it, I’m beating this thing. Could I lose it? Yes. Do I think I will? No.” We both sat in silence. “How about this, Sam? Just give me a month. Thirty days is all I ask. After that, you and I talk. If you aren’t happy, I walk.”

  Sam stared into my eyes. Then she stood to walk out, stopped, and looked back at me. “Okay,” she said and left the room.

  Chapter 11 – The Alliance

  The Sandusky Alliance meeting was a block away from Uncle Dan’s office. Larraby Tours, the sign said. Again, a beautiful view of the bay. Seemed like a waste to put an office here and not a restaurant with a patio, or maybe one of those outdoor shopping areas that are popping up everywhere, but what do I know? I parked the van and knocked on the door.

  A man, a little over six feet tall, pulled the door open and stood to the side, welcoming me in. I started to introduce myself but was quickly interrupted.

  “Will, you don’t have to knock, just come on in,” he said.

  It was a ten-foot hallway that led to a larger office area. Four cubicles, all connected, with phones and laptops and personal items cluttered around the monitors. I turned back to face him as he closed the door and walked toward me.

  “You don’t remember me, do you? That’s okay. Mark Larraby,” he said putting out his hand. “I was assistant coach on your baseball team too many years ago. I think it was a team sponsored by your father.”

  I still didn’t remember but I went with it. “Mr. Larraby, I’m sorry I didn’t recognize you. What was that, thirty years ago?”

  “More than that,” he said. “I was just out of college helping my dad with the team, and you were a little shit. Anyway, we’re waiting for a few more to drop by, but most of the group is already here. Follow the hall to the back, and I’ll be there in a minute.”

  I made my way down the hall to a conference room. In the front was a large table that seated ten or twelve. In the back was a table covered in food—sandwich spreads, meats, cheeses, olives, and three guys loading up plates. As I walked into the room, they stopped what they were doing and called out my name, each putting down their plates on a side table.

  “Welcome, Will,” the first man said. “We’re so very sorry about your father. I’m Mitch Dreason,” he said, holding out his hand. The other two gentleman were Bob Kasper and Barry White. I chuckled when I met Barry, a tall thin man who looked nothing like the R&B singer, but I said nothing.

  Uncle Dan and Mike Walker, owner of Walker Cleaners, entered the room, followed closely by Mr. Larraby. Everyone filled up their plates, grabbed some coffee, and sat at the conference table. I was at the head of the table, feeling a bit uncomfortable that I was probably sitting in my father’s chair. It felt like I was meeting with the cast of Cocoon, minus the women.

  Mr. Larraby began the meeting. “Before we start the official meeting, I have two announcements. First, we want to recognize the loss of our good friend Abe Pollitt, who served with us in this group for many a year. Second, welcome to Will, Abe’s son. I think everyone here knows, but Will runs a successful marketing firm in Cleveland and is currently considering whether to run his father’s funeral business here in Sandusky.”

  The comment took me off guard. I didn’t know that they knew about my father’s will. Dan quickly chimed in, “Your father shared his most intimate details with this group, so everyone here has known for years what his succession plan was. I just want you to know that it didn’t come from me,” he said, smiling.

  “No worries at all,” I said, but I didn’t like it. It seemed everyone knew my father’s plans but me.

  “Did your dad tell you much about what we do here at Sandusky Alliance?” Mark asked.

  “I’m sorry,” I said. “To be honest, I just found out about the Alliance from Uncle Dan.”

  Mark smiled. “No problem at all, Will. So you know, this is not a formal meeting of SA, but Dan thought it would be a good idea that you got to know us a bit, and we all agreed.”

  “SA is the group behind the resurgence of Sandusky’s downtown area,” Dan said, looking up at the ceiling, then back to me. “At least we like to think so. Pollitt Funeral Home is an important part of Sandusky, and we want to see that continue. Everyone knows that the funeral business is a tough one these days, with all the cremations, but we at SA would like to see both Pollitt and Traynor Funeral Home stay a part of this vibrant community.” Dan paused, probably giving me time for that to sink in. John Traynor and Dad had a rivalry for years, and it was never a friendly one. Dad believed that Traynor cut corners in both its funeral execution and its sales practices to create a profitable enterprise. I was actually good friends with John Traynor’s son Alex in high school, but that never went over well on either side.

  Bob Kasper cleared his throat and began to speak. “I believe Dan has told you that Jack Miller is interested in buying your father’s funeral business. That’s true and not true at the same time. While Jack has some money, he doesn’t have close to providing you with fair value if you choose to sell the business. Our idea—and Jack is well aware of this—is to provide a loan to Jack to get him to a point so he can pay you the value of the business, which we believe stands at one-time revenue, or about eight hundred thousand. Minus your father’s outstanding loans, that would leave you with approximately half that.”

  Geez, they even knew the revenue numbers. Talk about coming to a meeting with your pants down. But holy shit. Four hundred thousand would solve all of my debt problems and keep Jess in school. Valuing the company at one-time revenue, for this business, was almost too good to be true.

  Bob paused long enough for me to get a word in. “Anything this group isn’t aware of?” I said, looking at Dan.

  “Will, this group knows everything about Sandu
sky, which means this group knows about your father’s business in its entirety,” Dan said without concern. “And we all know about each other’s business, intimately. Let’s just say, if one of us goes down, we’re all affected. It may sound strange coming from Cleveland, but groups like SA thrive in just about every small city in the Midwest. Regardless, let Bob finish, and then we can all chat.” Dan nodded back to Bob.

  “We’re willing to provide a no-interest loan to Jack so he can continue your father’s business. Again, only if you decide not to run it yourself. Jack, with our assistance, can then continue your father’s tradition of quality funeral service at Pollitt Funeral Home.”

  “Sounds like a great deal for Jack and me if I decide not to take over the business,” I said. “What’s the catch?”

  Dan smiled. “I told you he’s smart, didn’t I, gentlemen? Yes, William, there’s a catch, which is the real reason why you are here. Even though we want both Pollitt and Traynor in Sandusky, we don’t believe Pollitt can survive on its own in the current business climate. The only way your father kept it going was by selling a number of assets. He sold most of his real estate portfolio over the past few years as a cash infusion for the business. Basically, Abe Pollitt, the individual, was the only reason Pollitt Funeral’s business stayed open.”

  The choreography was amazing. Everything seemed so relaxed between the group, but I’ve been in thousands of meetings and knew better. This had a clear agenda. Now it was Barry White’s turn to speak.

  “We’ll stop beatin’ around the bush,” Barry said. “Jack would do a great job running the funeral home, but he can’t grow the business. I’ve been told you know Jack pretty well, so you know this to be true. We have an alternative proposal for you to consider.”

  Ah, here it comes.

  At that, Barry deferred to Mitch. “We’re good friends with the Traynor family. Now they’d be willing to purchase Pollitt Funeral Home. Being that you’ve been competitive with Traynor for years, probably knowing this since you were just a small boy, this might be an uneasy proposition for you. That’s understandable. Alex Traynor, he’s John’s son who took over the business, is about your age if I’m not mistaken. You used to be friends, right? I told Alex that you’d only consider if you received a premium over-stated current value and the name Pollitt stayed on the sign for perpetuity. Alex knows we’re talking today and wanted to approach you personally, but we all here agreed it would be better coming from us.”