My classmate, after graduation, went to work at a crematorium.

Not carrying bodies, but operating the boilers.
He worked there for a year, then went home for the New Year, and was not allowed into the house.
His mother said it was bad luck and told him to stay in a hotel.
He wasn't angry and said, "Mom, you’ll have to come to my place someday too. I’m being nicer to you now, so you won’t suffer later."
His mother’s face turned green.
He added, "Which furnace to burn, how long to burn, whether the ashes are crushed or not, I press the buttons."