A collection of half-inebriated, non-sequitur rants and ramblings from the hellish mondane world of retail pharmacy.

Wednesday, May 24, 2006

The patients I hate

I haven't be at this pharmacy game for too long now, but I am recognizing a general pattern in the types of people that shamefully leave their homes and bother me at work. Lets discuss a few;

The early riser-
They beat you to work. They're waiting for you, and they are pissed as hell that today isn't the day you mistakenly showed up for work an hour early. How dare you?! Get to work slacker.

Oh guess what? The script was dated for 2 months ago. YOU HAD ALL THE TIME IN THE WORLD! I can remember the last specific day and time you were last in my pharmacy, and this Rx is older than that.

The supervisor-
Fuck you. When you interrupt me checking my email for the 57th time today, and I say your prescription will take a couple minutes, that is not an invitation for you to hold up your end of the counter and stare into my eyes. Go walk around, go check out the merchandise, and let me check my email. This ain't fast food. Lets take our time, make an event out of it. Nevertheless, let me do my job. I want to do it right, and do it under my clock, not yours, so go take a look around.

But you my friend, you are a double edged sword. You can be the best part of my day. Why? Because I can be the worst part of your day very easily. You are ready to go, you want to get going, but, oops, I can't just quite read what your physician wrote. I think I'll give them a call. Whoopsie daisy, I had to leave a message. Get your fucking hands off my counter and call back tomorrow. Thanks with a smile.

Fucker.

The completely clueless-
This one is pretty simple. They are their own self-written joke. What are you here to pick up? What is it for? What letter does it start with? What does it look like?... I dunno. Even asking them what their name is results in a pathetically long pause. The truly sad part is, they aren't drunk, they aren't high, they are just dumber than rocks. Part of me feels really bad for them, but then again, my feet hurt and I don't really like standing longer than I have to while they figure out if they want to form an intelligent thought or not.

Shit, I wish Aricept actually improved memory and made people smarter. Suddenly I would be making a shit ton of mis-fills.

The spelling bee champ-
"Hi, pick up for Davis, D - A- V- I- S."

Me, "N O F U C K I N G S H I T"

Tell me where my fucking car keys are in the morning if you want to help me out, but the next time you tell me how to spell a common, American last name, I am going to punch a baby. Apparetly you think a pharmacy degree can be obtained by buying enough boxes of Cap'n Crunch and sending in for it. Apparently you think the job is limited to putting pills from a big bottle into a smaller bottle. Wait... anyways, the fact that I am upright and breathing should prove that I can spell your damned name. Thanks for the tip asshat.

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