The exercise:
Write about: the undertaker.
I dislike being sick.
Mine:
The undertaker regarded his most recent client the same way he had the thousands that came before her: without pity, without enthusiasm, without compassion. He knew nothing he could say or do would ease their pain, no gesture from a stranger they never wished to meet could bring their loved ones back. So why bother trying?
Besides, it wasn't like they could take their business elsewhere. His was the only funeral home for a hundred miles in any direction and, really, once you've got one family member in your graveyard, you've got them all. Assuming no disastrous disagreements within the tree, of course.
It's not that he didn't enjoy his job. He absolutely did. The part that didn't involve the living, at least. So he put up with those left behind, in order to work with those passed on.
But there was no chance he was going to waste energy being nice about it.