My dad had a gig at a funeral home where he lived there in exchange for keeping an eye on the place at night. He jokingly called himself a "body guard", LOL. The funniest part was that the name of the family that owned the place was "Graves". He ended up getting a pretty sweet used hearse out of the deal too. Then he traded it for a not-so-sweet Chevette (aka the rolling turd) that died soon after he towed it back to TN.

Good luck with your essay. Call it morbid fascination but I always thought it would be cool to be a mortitian.