FIVE TIMES

Dim Fart rolls up on one of the motorized shopping carts. He's here to pick up his "hydroco." It doesn't do any good to tell him that the medication is actually called "hydrocodone" because the label says "hydroco."

I get the bag of medications and set them out for him to inspect. This is his ritual every time. He snags the bottle of Metformin and gives it a good look.

A lady gets in line behind Mr. Fart. 

"Why is there only 15 tablets in here?" he asks.

"When you called yesterday asking me to refill your Furosemide, Mr. Fart, I told you that Dr. Fillemup renewed your Metformin prescription with a two week supply and put on the e-Script that you need an appointment."

"I don't see Dr. Fillemup."

"She's probably the one that was refilling prescriptions that day for the office," I reply, noting that a man has now joined the line behind the patient lady behind Mr. Fart.

"I don't see Dr. Fillemup. Why is there only 15 tablets?"

"Because you need an appointment. They want to see you in the office."

Mr. Fart continues his inspection. "Where's the leg cream I asked for? It comes in a jar."

I know he's referring to triamcinolone cream, the 454 gram tub we get for people with massive amounts of itchy skin. "I didn't know you wanted that refilled."

"I TOLD MICKEY ABOUT IT LAST WEEK!" he yells, referring to our pharmacy manager. I go over to the doctor call out file. Sure enough, we're waiting for a refill request from Dr. Skinwalker. I show Dim Fart the fax request. "We haven't heard back yet from Dr. Skinwalker."

"I don't see Dr. Skinwalker. He retired. I TOLD YOU THAT FIVE TIMES."

To my recollection, this is the FIRST time he's ever mentioned it.

"Who do you see now?" I asked.

"I don't know her name. What is it?" he asks, like I have any idea.

"Is it the same office as Dr. Skinwalker?"

"YES! I TOLD YOU THAT FIVE TIMES."

"Then whoever is IN the office NOW will see eventually see the fax and respond to it," I reply, trying desperately to keep Dim Fart from having a cow.

The guy who was in line behind the patient lady disappears. But a new person gets in line.

Mr. Fart continues his inspection. He sees the Furosemide."

"Why is this in here?"

"When you called yesterday you asked me to refill your Furosemide."

"I don't take it anymore! I TOLD YOU THAT FIVE TIMES!"

I take the bottle of Furosemide and start to set it on the counter behind me. Dim Fart stops me and asks, "WHY ARE YOU PUTTING THAT BACK?"

"You said you don't take it anymore. Do you want it or not?"

"I want it."

I ring in the medications and scan Mr. Fart's club card. He sees me scan the club card and starts to swipe his credit card. A receipt prints out and I hand it to Dim Fart. He begins inspecting it.

"Did you scan my club card?"

At this point I can't resist. I say, "Oh, did you want me to scan your club card?" I knew it was coming. I knew he would say it. I couldn't hardly wait to hear it... and then, you guessed it... he said:

"YES! I TOLD YOU THAT FIVE TIMES."