Funeral Scam: They Never Sent Dad Off

The man's expression went cold the moment I said that, and he raised his hand and slapped me across the face.

My head snapped to the side, and my ears rang. All I could hear through the buzzing was him screaming at me.

"Extortion? Watch your goddamn mouth! I already told you the system doesn't make mistakes. This funeral home goes by the system, not by whatever bullshit comes out of your mouth.

"If the system says the body is here, then the body is here. You want to slander this establishment? You're asking for it."

He stepped forward, grabbed me by the collar, and slammed me against the wall.

"I'm going to ask you one last time. 100,000 dollars. Are you paying or not?"

His sidekick came closer too, kicking at the torn scraps of receipts near my feet. "Don't push your luck. We're charging by the book here, so be smart and start scraping the money together. Otherwise, we can't exactly guarantee that your father's belongings will stay in one piece."

I was pinned against the wall, so furious that I could barely breathe.

"I'm not making things up, and I'm not dodging any bill. The body was cremated. You're shaking me down, and you know it."

The man's grip on my collar didn't loosen an inch. If anything, he squeezed harder, completely self-righteous. "Shaking you down? You don't know a damn thing.

"The system log is crystal clear. Your father's remains were held here for seven days, and the storage and preservation fees are owed in full. That's the rule.

"I'm giving you ten more minutes. Either you come up with the money, or you watch me burn everything your father left behind. Your choice."

The sidekick piled on right away. "Don't be stupid about this. The longer you drag your feet, the more you'll owe. On top of losing his belongings, you'll be racking up daily charges for cold storage, space usage, and administrative fees.

"And when all of that piles up, every last dollar gets pinned on you. If you still won't cooperate, we'll take it to court. You'll end up paying even more on top of legal fees, so think about whether that's really the hill you want to die on."

Those words cut right through me.

I looked at the man's face, completely shameless and utterly convinced that he was in the right, and then down at the shredded receipts scattered across the floor. Every ounce of strength drained out of my body.

But the rage inside me only burned hotter.

"Burn them?" My voice came out raw and shaking, and I couldn't hold it steady no matter how hard I tried.

"What gives you the right to burn my father's belongings? They don't belong to you. You have no right to touch them."

The man let out a scornful laugh and shoved me again. The back of my skull cracked against the wall, and my vision went black for a second as a sharp ringing filled my ears.

"What gives us the right? You not paying gives us the right. That's how things work in this funeral home." His tone was pure arrogance, and he was grinning now.

"You said we don't have the authority? Fine. Ten minutes. You've got exactly ten minutes to come up with the money, and if you don't, I'll let you see for yourself just how much authority we have.

"So what do you say? Want to test me?"

The sidekick crowded in beside him. "Yeah, go ahead and test us. You want to play the waiting game? Let's see who can wait longer.

"Either borrow the money and pay up so you can walk out of here with his things, nice and easy, or watch them go up in smoke and walk away with a pile of debt and a lawsuit on your hands. It's up to you."

I braced myself against the wall and slowly straightened up. Pain throbbed through the back of my head in waves. But the fury burning inside me was close to swallowing every last shred of reason I had left.

I looked at the two of them standing there in front of me, completely brazen, extorting me without a flicker of guilt, and then at the torn receipts littering the ground. And suddenly, I laughed.

It was a cold, trembling laugh, the kind that only came from being so angry that there was nowhere left for it to go.

Fine. If they were going to push me this far, hold my father's belongings hostage, and squeeze me for 100,000 dollars under their so-called rules, then I'd give them exactly what they wanted.

I took a deep breath, forcing down the rage and the humiliation, and spoke slowly. "Fine. I'll pay."

But the man didn't back off. If anything, his eyes lit up, greedy and brazen, and his tone turned even more aggressive without a trace of courtesy. "Smart move. But 100,000 dollars isn't going to cut it anymore."

I blinked in surprise, completely thrown. "Why not? You said 100,000 dollars. Why isn't that enough all of a sudden?"

He scoffed, took another step toward me, and stared down at me. Every single word he spoke was with that same self-righteous arrogance. "Why? Think about it.

"I wasted all this time on you, going back and forth, explaining things over and over. Do you have any idea how much of my day you've eaten up?

"And what about all the energy I spent dealing with you, the mental strain, the wasted hours? You don't think you owe me for that?"