Why I Left Corporate Funeral Services to Build a Family Cremation Business

I never planned to be in this industry. My dream job was to be a Secret Service agent — I even started the path toward it. But at 18, right before I left for Army bootcamp, I took a front desk job at a corporate funeral home. Ten years later, I'm running Direct Cremation LA. This is the honest story of how I got here — and why I finally walked away from the corporate side to do it my own way.

How I Ended Up in a Funeral Home at 18

The truth is, I got into this industry entirely by chance.

My aunt worked at a corporate funeral home. My cousin was buried there. She wanted to be close to him, so she took the job — that's how she ended up in the industry. When I was 18 and getting ready to leave for Army National Guard bootcamp, she mentioned they needed someone at the front desk. It was a short-term job before I shipped out. I said yes.

I always thought I'd end up in law enforcement. My original goal was to become a police officer, and my long-term dream was to work as a Secret Service agent. Funeral services was never on the list. It was just a job to fill the months before I left for basic training.

When I came back from bootcamp, I picked the job back up. I figured it would be a temporary thing while I figured out my next step toward law enforcement. That temporary thing became eight years.

Why I Stayed

I think what kept me there — at least at first — was the same thing that draws a lot of people to this work. It's not glamorous. It's not what anyone dreams about as a kid. But it matters. When a family walks into a funeral home, they're going through the worst week of their lives, and every small kindness lands differently than it does anywhere else. Getting the little things right — remembering their loved one's name, making sure the paperwork is easy for them, walking them out to their car — actually changes someone's experience of one of the hardest moments they'll ever have.

I liked being useful in that way. I still do.

I also liked learning the operations side. Over the years I moved from the front desk into arrangement coordination, then into more of the operational and management side of things. I got exposed to the crematory side of the business, which was newer and growing fast in California. By the time I was in my mid-twenties, I understood most of how a funeral home actually runs — behind the polite face families see.

I stayed because I thought I was building something. I thought that eight years of loyalty, learning every job, training new hires, and doing the hard work would eventually lead somewhere. I thought this could be the last company I'd work for. I even started thinking about it as somewhere I might retire from.

Why I Left

What I didn't understand until later was that corporate funeral businesses don't reward loyalty the way you'd hope.

Over the years, I was passed up for promotions more than once — sometimes for people I had personally trained. When I asked why, the honest answer, eventually, was this: "We can't replace you where you are."

That's a strangely painful realization. It's not that they didn't value me — it's that they valued me so much they refused to let me grow. And every time someone I trained moved past me, it stung a little more.

I want to be clear: I don't hold grudges against the people I worked with. Many of them are still friends. The problem wasn't the people. The problem was the model. Corporate funeral businesses are built to extract maximum value from every family and every employee, and neither one benefits when they finally figure that out.

After eight years, I left.

The Year at the National Cremation Brand

My next stop was one of the big national cremation brands — the kind you probably see advertised in the back of newspapers or online. I thought maybe the problem was traditional funeral homes, and that a direct cremation-focused company would be different.

It wasn't. Not really.

The national cremation brands operate at scale, which means most families never talk to the same person twice. Call centers handle the initial contact. The "counselor" you speak with may be in a totally different state from where your loved one is. The prices look low on the advertising, but by the time all the fees are added, they're often above what a local independent charges.

I was there for about a year. That was enough. I understood then that the answer wasn't to work for someone else. If I wanted the industry to work the way I thought it should work, I was going to have to build it myself.

Starting My Own Company (Twice)

I started my first cremation company with a partner. It was a good learning experience. We built something real, we served families, and I learned what running a business actually feels like — from payroll to permits to price lists to the constant, unglamorous work of being on call 24 hours a day.

After about two years, my partner and I had reached a point where our visions for the business were pulling in different directions. It happens. She bought me out, and I moved on to start what would become the brands you see now: Direct Cremation LA, Direct Cremation LA, Direct Cremation Riverside, and soon Direct Cremation Santa Clarita Valley.

My vision this time was clearer, because I had done it before and I had seen what happened in a corporate environment. I wanted to build something that was:

• Locally known throughout California. Not a national brand parachuting in with a call center. Real presence, real people, real offices in each community.
• Family-owned and independent. No corporate parent, no franchise. What families see is what they get.
• Transparent to a fault. One price. Fully itemized. No hidden fees. Ever.
• Personally responsive. Real humans answering the phone at 3 AM. Personal delivery of urns and certificates. The kind of care that used to be the standard.

What's Different About Doing This the Family-Owned Way

People sometimes ask if it's harder running my own company than working for a corporate one. It is. The honest answer to "the hardest thing about running this business" is wearing all the hats and managing a team, and that's true.

I'm on call. I'm managing operations. I'm training. I'm looking at the numbers. I'm answering emails. I'm doing the things a corporate structure would have someone else do for me. That's the tradeoff for having full control over what this company is.

But here's what I get in return: when a family calls at 3 AM and I answer, I know exactly what's going to happen next. Nobody is going to add a fee I don't know about. Nobody is going to upsell them a service they don't need. Nobody is going to leave them on hold for 20 minutes.

When a family gets their loved one's ashes back, I know a human being — often me or someone from my team — is physically bringing them or shipping them with care. Not a courier. Not a third-party vendor.

When we send out a death certificate, we've helped that family order it at cost ($26 per certified copy, California state fee), without markup, because that's how it should work.

Where We Go From Here

Direct Cremation LA is one part of what I'm building. Direct Cremation LA serves families across Los Angeles County. Direct Cremation Riverside serves the Inland Empire. Direct Cremation Santa Clarita Valley is next.

The plan isn't to become a corporate brand. The plan is to be the trusted, honest, family-owned direct cremation option in every California community we can reach — with the same standards, the same pricing philosophy, and the same 24-hour real-person response, no matter which brand a family calls.

If that resonates with you, I'd rather have you as a family we serve than as a website visitor. When you're ready — whether that's now or in five years or when you need to plan for someone you love — call. We'll answer.