More Than a Cup of Coffee

By Jay U. Jacobson, LUTCF, CPC, CFSP

Whenever I tell someone how I interview prospective funeral directors, they usually laugh.

"You do what?"

I simply smile.

When a candidate arrives for an interview, I don't immediately invite them into my office. Instead, I ask if they'd mind driving me to their favorite coffee shop.

It sounds odd.

I've even had a few applicants give me a puzzled look before saying, "Sure."

During the drive we talk.

Not about embalming.

Not about funeral law.

Not about restorative art.

Those things can all be taught.

Instead, we talk about life.

What are you learning right now, and where do you turn when you want to learn something new?

Where do you get your news?

What do you enjoy doing on weekends?

Tell me about a recent win. What made it meaningful?

What current event has captured your attention, and why?

Those questions aren't designed to trap anyone.

They're designed to help me understand the person sitting behind the steering wheel.

But there is another reason I ask them to drive.

I'm quietly observing something they probably don't even realize I'm noticing.

Their car.

For many young people entering funeral service, it's the largest investment they've ever made. It represents responsibility. Pride. Stewardship.

I'm not looking for perfection.

I've raised children. I know life gets messy.

But I am looking for evidence that they care for the things entrusted to them.

Is the vehicle reasonably clean?

Has it been cared for?

Does it reflect someone who takes pride in their responsibilities?

Over the years I've learned something.

People usually don't become more conscientious after you hire them.

They simply become more comfortable.

How they care for the important things in their own lives often tells me how they'll care for the important things in mine.

Not always.

But often enough that I've never stopped making that trip to the coffee shop.

Recently I came across a post from leadership advisor John Eichmann that immediately resonated with me. After growing a company sevenfold in just five years, he was often asked a question I've heard throughout my own career.

"How do you hire the right people?"

His answer wasn't about résumés.

It wasn't about degrees.

It wasn't even about experience.

He said he looked for four characteristics:

Intelligence. Passion. Energy. Curiosity.

As I read those four words, I found myself smiling.

After forty years in funeral service, I realized I'd been looking for exactly those same qualities without ever giving them those names.

Intelligence and curiosity create problem solvers.

Passion and energy create people who willingly do whatever needs to be done when a family needs them most.

But if I had to choose just one of those qualities, it would probably be curiosity.

Curious people rarely stop learning.

And funeral service has never been a profession where you can afford to stop learning.

Families change.

Communities change.

Technology changes.

Expectations change.

The funeral director who believes they've "arrived" has already begun falling behind.

For years, one of the questions I enjoyed asking was, "What are you reading?"

Then Tammy Verbrugge, an independent HR consultant with HR Approach (www.hrapproach.com), made an observation that caused me to rethink it.

Reading, she reminded me, is only one way curious people learn.

She told me why.

Tammy loves cooking shows. Her favorite is Chopped, but she enjoys nearly all of them.

From those shows, she learned to let meat rest after grilling instead of cutting into it immediately and watching the juices run onto the plate.

When she installed raised garden beds and wanted to learn how to harvest and dry her herbs, she turned to YouTube.

Now the fruit trees she planted have her thinking about learning to make jams and jellies.

A question about books might never reveal any of that.

Yet Tammy's examples reveal exactly what I hoped the original question would uncover.

When Tammy does not know how to do something, or simply wants to become better at it, she goes looking for a way to learn.

That is curiosity in action.

The better interview question may be, "Tell me about something you wanted to learn but did not know how to do. Where did you turn, and what did you learn?"

The answer may involve a book.

It may also involve a podcast.

A professional organization.

A mentor.

A class.

Or a video watched at exactly the right moment.

The medium matters far less than the habit.

I'm listening for something much deeper.

Is self-directed learning already part of who they are?

Another favorite question is, "Tell me about a recent accomplishment."

Then I stop talking.

Their answer is interesting.

Their face is even more interesting.

Does it light up?

Can I hear genuine enthusiasm?

Passion is difficult to fake.

Likewise, when I ask what they enjoy doing on weekends, I'm not evaluating hobbies.

I'm listening for relationships.

Family.

Friends.

Volunteering.

Coaching.

Serving.

Because funeral service is, at its heart, about investing in people.

Those questions tell me far more than another review of their résumé ever could.

In fact, I've come to believe my job during an interview isn't to learn what someone has already done.

It's to imagine what they might become.

A résumé documents yesterday.

A conversation often reveals tomorrow.

Of course, hiring the right person is only the beginning.

Too many organizations believe the hiring process ends when the offer letter is signed.

That's where leadership actually begins.

I've watched exceptional young funeral professionals fail because they were handed a handbook instead of a mentor.

I've also watched individuals with very little experience become remarkable funeral directors because someone invested in them.

Onboarding isn't orientation.

It's cultivation.

Teach them how to complete the paperwork.

Certainly.

But don't stop there.

Teach them why every detail matters.

Teach them why we answer the phone with compassion before efficiency.

Teach them why every family deserves our full attention, even on our busiest day.

Teach them why trust is earned in a thousand quiet moments that no one else ever sees.

Most importantly, create an expectation that learning never ends.

Send them to conventions.

Encourage them to learn in the ways that work for them.

Share books, articles, podcasts, videos, and courses.

Connect them with professional organizations and mentors.

Debrief difficult services.

Invite questions.

Celebrate curiosity.

The finest funeral professionals I've ever worked alongside all shared one thing in common.

None of them believed they had everything figured out.

They remained students long after becoming experts.

As leaders, that's exactly who we should be looking for.

Not someone who already knows everything.

Someone who wakes up every morning wanting to know a little more than they did yesterday.

Looking back, those trips to the coffee shop were never really about coffee.

They were about discovering character.

Because families never meet our résumés.

They meet our people.

And the future of every funeral home is determined, one interview at a time, by the people we choose to invite along for the ride.