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Posted by on Jun 25, 2018 in Blog, Essays, Personal | 0 comments

Cremation Service Sends Me a Hot Check


On my long list of the last people I want to talk to over the telephone, receiving an unsolicited call from a telemarketer trying to pimp me “advance cremation arrangements” has to rank somewhere between the fake IRS agent with the indecipherable Nigerian accent threatening to imprison me, and a robocall from Republican Danny Tarkanian, who has lost eight straight political races in this state and runs for office every time there’s a full moon.

I don’t bother with answering the phone anymore.  It’s always either an annoying salesman, a bill collector, or someone wanting something from me that I don’t have — like money.  I don’t work a full-time job, so why bother reaching when the phone rings?  Hell, even when I was working two jobs, I never answered the fucking phone.  Hmm, maybe that’s why I don’t have a job anymore.

So last week, I opened up an envelope and there was a surprise inside.  It was a check for $129.85.  The check was made out to me, as in….

“Pay to:  NOLAN DALLA….The sum of:  ONE-HUNDRED TWENTY-NINE DOLLARS AND EIGHTY-FIVE CENTS.”  Gee, I’m sure glad I didn’t toss that envelope without opening it.  Usually, when mail comes and I don’t know where it’s from, I trash it — which may explain why the bill collectors phone so often.

The surprise check was a mystery.  I didn’t understand why I was getting a payment for $129.85 from a company I’ve never heard of.  Sometimes when you cash those things that come in the mail and don’t read the fine print, you later find out that you’ve just bought a timeshare.  I did some deep investigating, which basically involved reading a letter tucked inside the envelope.  The letter informed me this was a settlement from a class-action lawsuit.  I guess my side won the legal case.  Shit, I didn’t even get to testify.  Please, put me on the witness stand.  Surely, I can tearjerk them for at least another fifty.

Come to find out, some company that does cremations did something really, really bad, which is kinda’ twisted since their entire business model basically consists of baking dead people in a brick oven until they turn into jar of ashes.  Apparently, some overly aggressive cremation telemarketers for a private entity called the Neptune Society [READ MORE HERE] violated the federal “Do Not Call” consumer protection act and agreed to pay out a $15 million settlement.  My cut amounted to $129.85.  Hell, I didn’t even know I was on the “Do Not Call” list.  I don’t remember getting the phone call or filling out any paperwork.

No worries.  I ran to the bank and cashed it immediately.  The check cleared, which now means I get to keep my cable television package with HBO for at least another month.

Winning my class-action lawsuit got me to do some serious thinking.  I even came up with an idea.  Hopefully, some other cremators pitching their cremation stuff will give me a call at home.  Hey, call me as often and as many times as possible.  I’ll even pick up the phone.  Football season’s right around the corner and I could sure use the money.



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