Snake Oil Soap

Snake Oil Soap

Let the oil of the cobra cleanse you! The Snake Oil Soap contains real cobra oil and can help clean your skin like a magical elixir which secret is passed down from generations to generations of hand washers. Would we lie to you?

This is EXACTLY something we need at the pharmacy to go with all the Dr. Oz recommended products!

I'll be Simone

My sister and I text all the time. Unfortunately, my sister is often the victim of the auto correct feature of her cell phone. Most of the time it is pretty funny, especially when I play along and have fun with it:

You Got Me!

Mr. Cream is in a BIG hurry. He's given me three prescriptions to fill and wants me to know that he needs them right away.

"I'm on my way to the airport... headed out of town. Sorry, no time to wait."

At Goofmart Pharmacy we believe people. That's what we do. So we go to work and fill Mr. Cream's prescriptions lickety-split. In a few minutes, he's back at the window to get his meds. And the tech and I are feeling pretty good about the whole thing. We've been able to get Mr. Cream's medications ready in no time at all and he can get to the airport and on his way to his very important business meeting.

Mr. Cream wants to pay for a few things. I tell him sure. It will save him some time not having to go through the check-out at the front of the store again. I start pulling stuff out of the mini basket and ringing them up.

Then I saw it. A half-gallon of rocky road ice cream. Not a little single or double scoop pack. No, this is a huge HALF GALLON of ice cream, enough for several family members or one very hungry ice cream eater.

I hold it in my hand, look at Mr. Cream, and the words came out of my mouth before I could stop myself:

"Didn't you say you were on your way to the airport right now?"

Mr. Cream looks at me, then at the ice cream. Busted.

He laughs, nervously... "Uh, yuk yuk, you got me!"

And people wonder why pharmacists become a miserable bunch...

Jan's on Second, but Who's on First?

A lady appears at the PICK UP window...

"I'm here to pick up a prescription for Jan Flickendorf."

I look. Nothing is in will-call.

"I don't have anything for you."

"But I got a phone call less than a week ago."

"What's your birthdate?"

"10/7/1945"

I type it in. Nothing comes up. "Will you please verify your birth date for me?"

Eyes roll. "10/7/1945!"

"I don't have you in the computer. What was the last name again?"

"Flickendorf!" she yells it at me.

I see your name here, but the birth date isn't 10/7/45. But I do have Jan Flickendorf. I'm sorry. What was the medication you needed?"

"I don't know. YOUR computer called me."

I fiddle some more, then I see it. We filled Avodart twelve days ago. Nine days after that it went back to stock because it wasn't picked up. But I'm troubled. Why would this lady need Avodart? I see weird stuff all the time, but I'm still troubled.

"I see we filled Avodart twelve days ago. When it wasn't picked up, it went back to stock."

"Well HE needs it now! He just ran out!"

"Who?"

"Jan!"

"I'm sorry, aren't you picking up a prescription for you?"

"JAN IS MY HUSBAND. THE NAME 'JANET' IS A WOMAN's name. I'M PICKING UP FOR MY HUSBAND, JAN."

Based on the angry response, I think this has happened a few times since 1945.

And there you go... that explains everything, except why someone would give their own birthday when picking up for someone else, or why someone would give a son a woman's name at birth. But apparently "Jan" was a popular boy's name in the 1940s. Unfortunately, that was quite awhile ago and this is the FIRST time I've come across a male named Jan and I've been around a few years. All the people named Jan that I know are female.

"I'll get it filled right now."

"Why wasn't it ready for me now? Your computer called me."

"You mean Jan?"

"Yes, I mean Jan!"

"The prescription was filled twelve days ago. Ten days ago you would have received your first call. Seven days after that it would have gone back to stock?"

"Why?"

"We put things back to stock after nine days."

"But I wasn't out of medication!"

"You mean Jan?"

"Yes, I mean Jan!"

I briefly fiddle on the computer. The dates indicate that Jan the man isn't fully adhering to his medication therapy. I try to explain this to Mrs. Flickendorf.

"Well I don't care... your computer called me too early."

"You mean Jan."

"YES I MEAN JAN."

The Shaker

Man, early 60s, extremely skinny, comes to the pharmacy DROP OFF window. He's dressed in a light tee shirt and 1970s shorts. He's shaking, a lot. He asks me what he can take for the shaking. I ask him WHY he's shaking and after a few questions and answers he complains of a fever. I tell him that the fever might be causing the shaking and that he should seek medical attention because a fever usually means infection too. I recommend some of our OTC antipyretics. He leaves.

TWO WEEKS later... same man, identical outfit, STILL SHAKING, appears at the pharmacy DROP OFF window again. He asks me the SAME question AGAIN. I'm wondering if this is some strange deja vu or if I'm dreaming or what's going on.

I ask him, "Didn't we have this conversation last week?"

"Yes," he replies. So I ask him, "What did the doctor say about your condition?"

"I didn't go to the doctor." 

I stare at him for a moment. I'm thinking: DO YOU PEOPLE HAVE ANY IDEA HOW MUCH PHARMACISTS HATE IT WHEN YOU DON'T LISTEN TO US? DO YOU?

Apparently he didn't have time to change his outfit either, so I give him the exact same counsel as two weeks ago. He acts like this is new advice and disappears.

If he's back in two weeks, I'll let you know.

Sunday Knee-Slapping Fun

With Apologies...

...to Gary Larsen