"Is my prescription ready? I gave it to the other guy on Wednesday to transfer. I want that gift card."
I look. There it is. No refills. The "other guy" (a floater) called and left a message for the doc to call back. I show her his handwriting, MD calling back. You gotta love floaters... they put in the least amount of work possible.
I tell her that unfortunately, when we do get the call back, it will technically be a "new" script because the old one didn't have refills, and that makes it ineligible for a gift card since we're not actually doing a transfer. She nods like she understands.
Friday, 8am: Lady Mumford is at my drop off window.
"Is my prescription ready? You said the doctor would call back. I want that gift card."
"No, not yet." I wimpishly remind her the issue with the gift card. I don't know if "wimpishly" is a word, but that describes how I did it. I show her the fax verification where I faxed the doctor after she left on Thursday. I give her enough of her medication to last the entire weekend and tell her at this point to come back Monday.
I think of the showdown that's coming, the fight for the gift card, and the unholy evil that will come from that fight. Doc Holiday with TB firing blazing shots, zombies eating brains, cats and dogs living together, and the mother of all unholiness, a complaint sent to corporate. Oh my gosh, Noooooo...
I look at the tech. "You know this is going to get ugly, right?"
Friday, 7pm: Lady Mumford is at my drop off window.
Before she speaks, I tell her we haven't heard from the doctor. She insists that I fax the doctor again. What the heck, I'll fax it again. Why not?
Saturday, 8am: Lady Mumford is at my drop off window.
Mind you, she's been a patient at our pharmacy for years and if we did have her prescription, she would pick it up at the PICK UP window. I don't know why we use such fancy terms like "DROP OFF" and "PICK UP" for the windows anyway. It just confuses and frightens the people who voted for the wrong guy this last election.
"Is my prescription ready? I want that gift card."
I reply, "Does your doctor work on Saturday?"
I'm not sure Lady Mumford knows what planet she is on, let alone what day of the week it is.
"Then it's highly unlikely he's seen the second fax which I sent 13 hours ago just before the weekend."
"Oh." She walks away.
Sunday, 8am: Lady Mumford is at my drop off window.
I'm in the middle of the pharmacy but she can see me just shake my head no. She walks away. I'll bet she really wants that gift card.
Monday, 8am. Lady Mumford is at my drop off window.
And for the grace of everything that is holy, or perhaps out of fear of Lady Mumford, the doctor did the e-script first thing Monday morning. I saw it and immediately filled it.
"Is my prescription ready? I want that..."
I cut her off, "It's done! Come down to the PICK UP window." I sigh and gear up for the shoot out at O.K. Corral, the mother of all pharmacist/patient disputes, the FIGHT for the GIFT CARD.
Lady Mumford signs it out and pays for the prescription. She folds the bag neatly several times and files it away in her purse like there is a special pocket just for it. She ambles away. Oddly, she never mentioned the gift card. Not a word. I was waiting for a showdown of epic proportions, but it didn't happen.
The gods smiled on me today.
P.S... just so you know, Tombstone, Arizona, couldn't possibly have had gun play at the O.K. Corral. They had strict gun laws at the time and no one was allowed to have weapons in the city of Tombstone. The history books must be incorrect about that gunfight.