Tuesday, June 28, 2016

The Squint of Death

A lady comes in and asks for her medication. I go to will call. There's nothing there.

"It may have been here awhile," she says.

I tell her we don't have anything for her.

"YES YOU DO!" she says, angrily.

I verify her name and date of birth. I verify her address. I look on the computer. The last time Goofmart filled anything for her was two and half years ago, and that was at another location. I tell her that.

"Nope, the doctor called it in HERE," she says.

"Maybe it was called into Flea Circus Drugs down the street, or Wagmart across the street?" I ask her.


"I don't have anything here and I don't know what to tell you."

She rolls her eyes. She grabs a business card off the counter and squints at me as she walks away.

I can't wait to see what nonsense she's going to say to Goofmart in her complaint.


Anonymous said...

I hate dealing with that special kind of moron.

I mean, really, what reason would I have to lie about your prescription? For goodness sakes, its my job to fill and get rid of prescriptions as fast as possible.

The longer I have to stand at the counter arguing with stupid people, the more I time I could have been actually doing my job.

And its not like corporate would back you up either. My idiot boss throws gift cards around like a rapper making it rain in a strip joint.

Zed said...

This blog is making me feel sorry for pharmacists now. Are there good days?

Anonymous said...


These days? The exception rather than the rule. The few 'good' customers and/or days that I have? I cherish. I weep for my profession.

Anonymous said...

There are good days, though,they are few.and far between. Its all about the good moments: helping that little old lady out in aisle, convincing a parent that the BS they read "online" is just that and they have no reason to worry, being thanked profusely by a patient for making sure they have vital meds because the doctor cant fax a reply back in less than a week. Those are the things we live for in retail. Those are the moments that keep us coming back day after day and year after year...

shrillr said...

Ahh, that's classic dementia. This is how I get thru my day: every difficult person is assigned a random disorder. Dementia, personality disorder, fuckwits disease, fucktardia, whatever. This kickstarts my empathy neurons and helps me remember that it's not me, it's them.