The Bare Bones of the Matter

Weird days are par for the course. 

There are days where very woman seems about to give birth. 

Days when you see hundreds of vertically challenged individuals. 

Days when obesity seems to be the norm. 

Today took weird and shot into the stratosphere.  

I’ve worked in advertising for longer than I care for, over 15 years. During this time I’ve had my fair share of strange clients, terrible briefs and bizarre requests. I should be fairly inured to strangeness. It turns out I am not.

The illustrious owner of the agency I am contracted to, made a rare visit to the office this afternoon. Showing an unbridled enthusiasm that always make me reach for a Xanax, he invited me into the boardroom.

IO: Come and meet our new client. I’ve got a fabulous brief for you, it’s going to be a lot of fun!

This sort of comment makes the hairs stand up on the back of my neck. His brilliant briefs are inevitably nightmares waiting to be born. Instead of an Armani wearing BEEntrepreneur I found a large, sunburnt Afrikaans man in situ. He was also over-excited. The blood drained from my head.

Do you want to know the brief? You know you’re dying for it.

Caskets and coffins.

This one gives you wings

Coffins and caskets are not the same. They differ in shape. Coffins have the tapering end, caskets are great big boxes. 

Apparently it is a growth industry, although I found it a little crass to show such avarice in the face of the Grim reaper – tempting fate you might say.

IO: Hah! This must be a first for you.

Yup. It is. Although I quickly got into the swing of things and regaled them with the tale of my Great Uncle Wilsie who built wagons and made coffins at Keiskammahoek in the Eastern Cape. 

Coke is it!

He is, of course, best known for getting his big toe stuck up the hot tap during a bath, but that is entirely beside the point. Having established some common ground we got into the bare bones of it.

Sometime in the recent past this man’s son came to him with the idea of tapping into the only industry not really hit by the recession – death. 10 000 people a day die in Gauteng alone. He reckons on a profit margin of over R6 million a month. 

I was told with a great deal of paternal pride that this particular offspring was extremely creative. In fact he designed and built a coffin in the garage and they were off. Today they assemble a coffin or casket in under 7 minutes.

24/7 connectivity from beyond the grave

I thought I’d better some details on the job and proceeded to ask what wood he used. He doesn’t, not really. These are non-biodegradable coffins. They have wood in them, sort of – it’s a 3 ply wood and plastic mix I gather. In desperation I asked about the handles and gold embossed lions. Not brass. Genuine plastic brass.

Keeping a straight face was becoming harder and harder, but I maintained a corpselike demeanour of polite interest throughout. He was very impressed and apparently I asked some insightful questions.

One of them was, so can these be used for burial and crematoria? 

Nope. They melt into plastic gloop, so they do manufacture one of a suitably flammable material.

Just do it.

I struggled on. Were they made to measure? 

After all what happens if a 9 foot tall basketball player drops dead? 

These are one size fits all. 

I assume they fold them up inside? 

Actually, I shudder to think.

I got a footing on firmer ground. What were the unique selling points? 

48 hour delivery countrywide. That was about it.

Admittedly, a timber casket or coffin can set you back a good R35 000, so their prices are pretty reasonable even if you do get interred in gaudy splendour. Better yet, no-one is going to dig you up and sell your coffin on the black market.

Snow White's coffin

By the time I escaped I was desperate. I closed the door of the studio, sank to the ground and howled. When I proceeded to impart the brief to my comrades, they reached the conclusion I was taking the piss and it was a joke. “No!” I howled, “It’s deadly bloody serious!”

I have quite often thought that I have reached the depths of hell in my career, but 6 foot under is a new low.

I shouldn’t laugh in the face of certain death. I’ve never had to arrange a funeral, however I have a friend who specialises in funereal planning. She is a sort of a wedding planner at the other end of the spectrum. 

Unlike a wedding planner, I suppose she doesn’t really have repeat clients. She does their make-up (the interees'), organises the music and all the rest. 

  

She is a professional make-up artist. One day at a party she complained about constantly having to make small talk with inane schmodels. I laughingly suggested she contact a few mortuaries and offer her services for open-casket funerals. Now she is making a killing out of it.

Now, I am faced with writing a sophisticated, friendly and respectful website, brochure and promotional calendar about death. Yes, promotions. Two for the price of one. Buy one get one free. Bulk discounts for family orders.

My mother, who shares my macabre sense of humour, had a field day. She suggested they turn them into coffee-tables, clothes chests and wardrobes. The idea being you can have one on hand when you need it. It could work. The Emos would love it. Coffin-chic. Turns out someone has already done it.

So far I have been told:

It should be dead easy

Think out of the box

Don’t get buried in the work

Re-hearse my presentation

Don't take it lying down

It is, I think, the final nail in the coffin of my advertising career. 

It could be the death of me. 

For more crazy coffins check out: World's Most Bizarre Coffins and Crazy Coffins