"Thank you for calling Goofmart Pharmacy, home of the painless flu shot. This is Crazy RxMan, how may I help you be well today?"
"I just opened my bottle of Ly-sint-toe-pril. It looks different. Is it different now?" she asked.
"Ok, let me get on the computer. What's your date of birth?"
I get the patient info and pull her profile up on the computer. I scroll down, and down, and down. There isn't any lisinopril on her profile.
"Mrs. Cordoba, I don't see lisinopril on your profile. What is the Rx number?" I ask.
"It is 1001-03394-304930-493941-19343," she replied. I might be exaggerating there. I just remember it was a long number that went on forever.
"Mrs. Cordoba, that's not one of our Rx numbers. Did you get this in the mail?"
"Does it say 'Goofmart Pharmacy' anywhere on the bottle?" I ask, just to make sure our company didn't send it to her.
"How would I know what's in the bottle? Why didn't you call the people who sent you the bottle?" I ask, annoyed. I'm trying to fill 287 prescriptions all at the same time and I sure as heck don't have time for this phone call.
Mrs. Cordoba doesn't know what to say, and for good reason. She's asking ME to identify a medication we didn't fill for her. And she doesn't want to call the pharmacy that did. That's freaking annoying.
"Mrs. Cordoba, bring the bottle by the pharmacy. We'll take a look at the tablets to make sure what's actually in there if we can. No promises, though, ok?"
"Ok," and she hangs up.
So mail order, you masterful wizards, you've sure got a great thing going for you. You take away our pharmacy business but leave the counseling up to us. That's just great, you sleaze lords.