Over the years, I’ve had a few directing gigs—most of them smooth, some of them… memorable. Take the funeral I was directing, for example. Everything was going beautifully solemn, until someone’s phone started blaring. Cue awkward side-eyes, frantic pocket-patting, and a chorus of “Not me!”
Of course, nobody fesses up—because nothing says “perfect timing” like a ringtone in the middle of eulogies. And just when you think it couldn’t get worse… well, let’s just say it turned into a scene worthy of its own script.
