Another time she refused to buy a box of "Allergy Relief" (our store-branded diphenhydramine) because it didn't say "sleep aid" on the box, despite my insistence that it truly was the same thing as ZzzQuil. I finally took a pen and crossed out "Allergy Relief" and wrote "Sleep Aid" on the box, but even that wouldn't sway her. Twenty minutes later I saw her on aisle eight with a bottle of ZzzQuil in her cart.
"I need to talk to you immediately," she blurts out. I point to the waiting room and meet her there. I'm barely in the room when she starts an inquisition of questions about her "Alprazadone." I've long since given up on trying to correct her that it's pronounced "Alprazolam." Besides, the techs and I have a good laugh calling it Alprazadone now.
Miss Loosey is worried because she was recently arrested for shoplifting at the Snootyville department store. Her pharmaceutically-trained hairdresser blamed the "Alprazadone" and now she wants to build her defense by saying it was the "Alprazadone" that caused her to try on a new pair of shoes and wear them out the door. As she's explaining her story in her present condition I can't help but picture her in the cape with her hair a complete mess, lumbering around the department store impaired by "Alprazadone" and trying on different shoes. And with that image in my head I can't keep the smile off my face. Every time I smile she squints at me in total disapproval.
I think I can use some "Alprazadone" now.