Mr. Hoser dials up the pharmacy.
"You have a refill on my son's Benzoyl Peroxide Cream?! Huh? Do you?!"
There's a brief pause while I pull up the info on the computer. I know who is calling even though he never said who he was. "No, he's out of refills on his Benzoyl Peroxide GEL."
"Do you have it? Do I have to wait? You guys never have things when I need it. Can you call the doctor? Or is it faster if I call the doctor? Huh?"
"If you call the doctor it will go faster. We have the GEL in stock. That's what he had before."
<click>
TEN MINUTES PASS
Mr. Hoser's doctor dials up the pharmacy.
"I want to authorize a refill on Larry Hoser's Benzoyl Peroxide Cream plus three refills."
"Larry had the GEL before. That's what we have in stock."
"Ok, then we authorize a refill on the GEL."
<click> Does no one say "goodbye" anymore?
FIVE MINUTES PASS
Mr. Hoser dials up the pharmacy.
"Did the doctor call? Did he? Can I come get my son's cream? Can I? Huh?"
"Yes, the doctor called. It's FILLED and READY to pick up. Come get your son's GEL..."
<click>
LESS THAN TEN MINUTES PASS
Mr. Hoser is at the window. "I'm here for my son's cream!"
I can't help myself. "Pimple emergency?" I ask.
"Larry has a lot of anxiety..."
Mr. Hoser's cell phone rings. He answers it, "What the HELL do you want? I told you I'd call you back when I'm damn good and ready. Now F--- off!" <click>
I'm beginning to see where Larry gets his anxiety.
I hand Larry's prescription to Mr. Hoser. There is no co-pay. You might have already guessed, THE TAXPAYERS PAY FOR IT. It's Medicaid.
Mr. Hoser rushes off. That must be one whopper of a pimple.
2 comments:
You should have offered him a bottle of windex.
You have no sympathy for sick people...you uncaring SOB.
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