As Giggles was leaving at her normal time today, she mentioned that she was excited about taking her daughter and other neighborhood kids trick-or-treating tonight. Since I was going to be stuck in the pharmacy all night, I told her to bring them by. Little trick-or-treaters are WAY better than old sick people.
Giggles: Are you sure?
Me: Yeah! I'll hook em up with mad candy.
Nine o'clock rolled around and I was busy trying to catch up from the day. Some woman had left a stack of scripts that she said she'd be back for when the pharmacy opened tomorrow. The doctor's signature was a typically indiscernible scrawl that made it appear he'd had an epileptic fit when autographing the scripts. There was no other identifying information of where the scripts had come from. No phone number, no address, no DEA number. What a dick.
Suddenly, there was a gaggle of costumed pediatrics milling around out front of the pharmacy.
Kids: (yelling in unison) TRICK OR TREAT!!!!!
Me: (shit, I forgot the candy) Wow, you guys look great!
The little bastards got straight to the point. They knew what they were here for.
Kids: Where's the candy?
Me: Uh, well...
Their faces instantly fell. The asshole in the white coat was trying to stiff them. You could say I felt pretty awful. I remembered how much I used to love Halloween, and there was no way I was going to disappoint them.
Me: Go up to the front of the store and get whatever you want, guys. Bring it back here and I'll buy it for you.
I probably should have thought that out a little before I said it. If anyone had been coming back to the pharmacy at that moment, they would have gotten stampeded by 6 to 7 little kids that were running like Phil Simmons was after them.
Luckily, Giggles regulated on them when they brought back a SHITLOAD of candy. She only let them get one of the big bags of assorted candy bars, saying they already had too much. I probably enjoyed it more than they did. Handing our candy is lots more fun than handing out pills.
31 October 2007
29 October 2007
Weekend of Nights
I worked the overnight shift the last 3 days for another Corpopharm this weekend. Right now, it's 7:48 AM on Monday morning and I'm chugging bourbon in a desparate attempt to fall asleep. I already know what's going to happen. I'm going to pass out in about an hour and wake up around noon confused as hell.
I got a call last night around 8 PM. It was a person who wanted me to transfer her prescription from another Corpopharm because that one was closed. I punched up her profile in the computer (all of Corpoharm's computers are linked together for your drug using convenience) and saw that the script had indeed been filled 3 days ago. The prescription had no refills, and I explained to her that I could not transfer the script because of this reason. She was not pleased.
Idiot: So, what, you're saying that the prescription is filled at the other pharmacy, but since no one is there you can't transfer it.
Me: That's right. The presciption has been filled, and has no refills, so technically there's nothing to transfer.
Idiot: (pause) So, I can't get my prescription today? Is that what you're telling me?
Me: That's right (I use this phrase a lot, I don't really know why). You'll just have to pick it up tomorrow when the pharmacy opens. They open at 8, that's only 12 hours from now.
Idiot: I need it TODAY! You're telling me that Corpopharm can't transfer my script for me from one store to another? That's ridiculous! That's RIDICULOUS!
I once again tried to explain the reality of the situation to her, but she had already drawn her own conclusion. I see this same thing happen every day. This person wasn't getting the answer they wanted (in the form of instant gratification from her happy pills) so she was creating her own reality to allow her a scapegoat. In this case, yours truly reserved the rights to the scapegoat as soon as I picked up the phone. School is now in session. Allow me to elaborate on the facts of this case.
1) As soon as I pulled up her records, I saw that this Rx had been filled on 10-25 at her normal Corpopharm. That's 3 days ago. 72 hours.
2) She knew the script was at her normal pharmacy. The first words out of her mouth when I picked up the phone were asking me to transfer the script from another pharmacy.
3) The script in question was for clomiphene. Clomiphene is a fertility drug, used to regulate ovulation and increase the chances of getting pregnant.
This prescription had been waiting for this woman for days. The fact that she hadn't gone to get it was not circumstance, it was choice. She was now growing distressed with this realization. She knew that she had been negligent, and she was angry with herself. However, as with most Americans, blame-laying was far easier for her than accepting personal responsibility. Fast forward to her screaming at me over the phone.
Me: You're not listening to me. Legally and ethically, I cannot fill this prescription for you. I realize that you are upset, but that does not factor into my decision.
Idiot: Perfect. That's just perfect. *SLAM*
I put the handset of the phone I was using back in the cradle with loving care. At that moment, I felt calm, perhaps even serene. This is not a sensation that most pharmacists experience during their normal work day. The irony of the situation was just too perfect to ignore. Because of her own sloth and ignorance, this woman did not get her fertility drug. She would miss her chance at procreation this month. Clomiphene must be taken in strict timing with the menstrual cycle, and as I'm writing this she's missing her window.
For a long time I've believed that raising children should be a privilege, not a right. If I ever talk to this woman again (I doubt I will, I'm surprised she figured out how to use a phone the first time) I'm going to suggest that she names her next child Charles. Charles Darwin Lastname. I'll laugh and laugh and laugh.
I got a call last night around 8 PM. It was a person who wanted me to transfer her prescription from another Corpopharm because that one was closed. I punched up her profile in the computer (all of Corpoharm's computers are linked together for your drug using convenience) and saw that the script had indeed been filled 3 days ago. The prescription had no refills, and I explained to her that I could not transfer the script because of this reason. She was not pleased.
Idiot: So, what, you're saying that the prescription is filled at the other pharmacy, but since no one is there you can't transfer it.
Me: That's right. The presciption has been filled, and has no refills, so technically there's nothing to transfer.
Idiot: (pause) So, I can't get my prescription today? Is that what you're telling me?
Me: That's right (I use this phrase a lot, I don't really know why). You'll just have to pick it up tomorrow when the pharmacy opens. They open at 8, that's only 12 hours from now.
Idiot: I need it TODAY! You're telling me that Corpopharm can't transfer my script for me from one store to another? That's ridiculous! That's RIDICULOUS!
I once again tried to explain the reality of the situation to her, but she had already drawn her own conclusion. I see this same thing happen every day. This person wasn't getting the answer they wanted (in the form of instant gratification from her happy pills) so she was creating her own reality to allow her a scapegoat. In this case, yours truly reserved the rights to the scapegoat as soon as I picked up the phone. School is now in session. Allow me to elaborate on the facts of this case.
1) As soon as I pulled up her records, I saw that this Rx had been filled on 10-25 at her normal Corpopharm. That's 3 days ago. 72 hours.
2) She knew the script was at her normal pharmacy. The first words out of her mouth when I picked up the phone were asking me to transfer the script from another pharmacy.
3) The script in question was for clomiphene. Clomiphene is a fertility drug, used to regulate ovulation and increase the chances of getting pregnant.
This prescription had been waiting for this woman for days. The fact that she hadn't gone to get it was not circumstance, it was choice. She was now growing distressed with this realization. She knew that she had been negligent, and she was angry with herself. However, as with most Americans, blame-laying was far easier for her than accepting personal responsibility. Fast forward to her screaming at me over the phone.
Me: You're not listening to me. Legally and ethically, I cannot fill this prescription for you. I realize that you are upset, but that does not factor into my decision.
Idiot: Perfect. That's just perfect. *SLAM*
I put the handset of the phone I was using back in the cradle with loving care. At that moment, I felt calm, perhaps even serene. This is not a sensation that most pharmacists experience during their normal work day. The irony of the situation was just too perfect to ignore. Because of her own sloth and ignorance, this woman did not get her fertility drug. She would miss her chance at procreation this month. Clomiphene must be taken in strict timing with the menstrual cycle, and as I'm writing this she's missing her window.
For a long time I've believed that raising children should be a privilege, not a right. If I ever talk to this woman again (I doubt I will, I'm surprised she figured out how to use a phone the first time) I'm going to suggest that she names her next child Charles. Charles Darwin Lastname. I'll laugh and laugh and laugh.
24 October 2007
Happy Thoughts
This is a picture of my sister and I, doing what we do best. For the most part, I use this site to write about what pisses me off at work. It is rather therapeutic, and I truly feel that I am more mentally healthy because of it. I don't want people to think that all I do is gripe, though. I should concentrate on the happy things in life more often.
22 October 2007
I Am A Great Source of Information
You may not know it, but you can get all kinds of useful information from your friendly neighborhood pharmacist. Here's a few examples from the dispensary today.
Lost: I need to know where the Corpopharm in Town X is (Town X is a small town on the edge of the city where my pharmacy is. It's about 15 miles away, and I've never actually been to that pharmacy). Can you give me directions?
Me: I don't know where that pharmacy is. I've never been there.
After stating this fact, there was a pause on the line. Lost clearly expected me to summon my map genie to get the directions for her.
Lost (huffy): Well..... Can you ask someone else? I need to know how to get there!
What the hell? The logic here is so backward and clumsy I don't even know where to start. The only conclusion I can draw here is that Lost assumed I knew where the pharmacy was because it was part of the chain I worked for. Did she think that Corpopharm wouldn't employ me unless I memorized the location of every pharmacy in the metro area? Did she assume we had poker runs on the weekends? If I ask someone a question and they don't know the answer, I find someone who does. I move on.
I put her on hold for 5 minutes. After that I picked up the phone and told her the first random address that I thought of. I figured waiting on hold for that long had at least earned her that.
The next question concerned the vitally important matter of toilet paper. I touches my heart that people would trust in me to give them information about ass wipe. Mind you, this question came at the busy part of Monday, the busiest time of the week at a pharmacy. There are long lines at pick-up and drop-off, and I'm up to my neck in shit... pun intended.
Ass: Where's the toilet paper?
Me: (dirty look) I don't know. Ask someone up front, they'll find it for you.
I usually try to be polite, but pestering a pharmacist at 5 o'clock on a Monday is not only inconsiderate and rude, it's bordering on malicious. I figured that if she wasn't smart enough to read the signs over the aisles that she probably didn't know how to wipe her ass either.
The last question was probably the most entertaining, though.
Caller: I just bought some Advil Cold and Sinus there and it says on my receipt that I was charged $X. I think it was labeled price $Y. I need you to check on that for me.
Me: This is the pharmacy.
Caller: I know.
Fuck that. You might as well call my entire profession shit if you want me to start doing stock clerk tasks. But wait! An idea was brewing in my cruel, petty little mind. I knew how to make her pay for her assaults. Oh yes. The current time was 9:55, and my pharmacy closes at 10 PM. I put the phone on hold, telling her I'm checking the price for her...
...Me: Oh my gosh! You're right, it was price Y! You'd better get back down here for a refund.
Caller: OK! I'll be there in about 20 minutes.
I wonder if she could see the price through the window. God, I hope so.
Lost: I need to know where the Corpopharm in Town X is (Town X is a small town on the edge of the city where my pharmacy is. It's about 15 miles away, and I've never actually been to that pharmacy). Can you give me directions?
Me: I don't know where that pharmacy is. I've never been there.
After stating this fact, there was a pause on the line. Lost clearly expected me to summon my map genie to get the directions for her.
Lost (huffy): Well..... Can you ask someone else? I need to know how to get there!
What the hell? The logic here is so backward and clumsy I don't even know where to start. The only conclusion I can draw here is that Lost assumed I knew where the pharmacy was because it was part of the chain I worked for. Did she think that Corpopharm wouldn't employ me unless I memorized the location of every pharmacy in the metro area? Did she assume we had poker runs on the weekends? If I ask someone a question and they don't know the answer, I find someone who does. I move on.
I put her on hold for 5 minutes. After that I picked up the phone and told her the first random address that I thought of. I figured waiting on hold for that long had at least earned her that.
The next question concerned the vitally important matter of toilet paper. I touches my heart that people would trust in me to give them information about ass wipe. Mind you, this question came at the busy part of Monday, the busiest time of the week at a pharmacy. There are long lines at pick-up and drop-off, and I'm up to my neck in shit... pun intended.
Ass: Where's the toilet paper?
Me: (dirty look) I don't know. Ask someone up front, they'll find it for you.
I usually try to be polite, but pestering a pharmacist at 5 o'clock on a Monday is not only inconsiderate and rude, it's bordering on malicious. I figured that if she wasn't smart enough to read the signs over the aisles that she probably didn't know how to wipe her ass either.
The last question was probably the most entertaining, though.
Caller: I just bought some Advil Cold and Sinus there and it says on my receipt that I was charged $X. I think it was labeled price $Y. I need you to check on that for me.
Me: This is the pharmacy.
Caller: I know.
Fuck that. You might as well call my entire profession shit if you want me to start doing stock clerk tasks. But wait! An idea was brewing in my cruel, petty little mind. I knew how to make her pay for her assaults. Oh yes. The current time was 9:55, and my pharmacy closes at 10 PM. I put the phone on hold, telling her I'm checking the price for her...
...Me: Oh my gosh! You're right, it was price Y! You'd better get back down here for a refund.
Caller: OK! I'll be there in about 20 minutes.
I wonder if she could see the price through the window. God, I hope so.
16 October 2007
Cover Your Head and Cry: Crazy Comes to Town
The phone call came around 6:00. Rush hour is starting it's daily wane, but I'm still up to my ears in work. My tech tells me it's a doctor, and they want to speak to the pharmacist. This is exceptional for 2 reasons. One is that doctors themselves rarely make pharmacy calls, usually leaving this task to their office staff. The other is that it's 6 PM. Customarily, doctors are not working until 6. I brace myself and pick up the phone.
Doctor: OK, I've got this lady. She needs antifungal therapy, and I've already... *sigh*. We've already done a course of Diflucan, and... OK, this lady is crazy.
I deal with crazy people at the pharmacy every day, and one of my Crazy Classifications divides them into 2 distinct tribes:
Doctor: OK, I've got this lady. She needs antifungal therapy, and I've already... *sigh*. We've already done a course of Diflucan, and... OK, this lady is crazy.
I deal with crazy people at the pharmacy every day, and one of my Crazy Classifications divides them into 2 distinct tribes:
1. Crazy Crazy
You might say you can see them a mile away, but oftentimes sight is not the first of your senses that alerts you to their presence. You may hear them shout obscenities, you may smell the reek of their poor hygiene, you may feel the crazy baking off of them like radiant energy. Sometimes, you can just feel it. These are the crazies that are blatantly obvious. They may show up dressed in winter clothes in 90 degree weather, they may decide to do some snow angels on the carpet in front of the pharmacy. They may make inappropriate sexual advances. They may bite. The Crazy Crazy will sermonize you concerning the Apocalypse while exploring their belly button for treasure. Most times they're perfectly benign, but crazy nonetheless.
2. Covert Crazy
The Covert Crazy appears normal. To look at them you would not suspect that beneath the apparently normal exterior, craziness on the scale of Gary Busey is present. At first they confer small talk chit-chat upon you. Then, suddenly they mention that the government is reading their thoughts because they forgot their tin foil helmet this morning because they were up all night covering the walls with peanut butter. The Covert Crazy has far more potential to be damaging to your work flow because you rarely see them coming. They come out of left field and spray crazy all over the place.
The warning the doctor gave me was a double edged sword. On one hand, I would know this person was mentally unstable and adjust my interaction with them accordingly. On the other, I now felt the fear of the potential interaction with a Crazy. They could show up any time. The devil is in the waiting.
My lead tech could sense my apprehension as I hung up the phone. It may have been the way I tried to pulverize the cradle with the handset. Sometimes I handle stress inappropriately.
Giggles: What's up?
Me: Batten down the hatches. I want everybody at battle stations.
My conversation with the doctor had not given me hope. The doctor explained that he had treated Crazy's thrush (oral fungus, looks like white stuff on your tongue) with standard antifungal therapy, dosed every 1 tab every 3 days for 6 days. This had not satisfied Crazy, and she demanded the same medication daily for 2 weeks. This is absurd in many ways, first and foremost because it's normally the doctor who decides the treatment plan, not the patient. Not that it mattered, because her insurance would not pay for her cockamamie dosing schedule. Of course, she would do back flips all the way from the doctor office to the pharmacy before she would pay for it out of her own pocket. Although, I'm sure she could have. Crazy people have lots of energy.
The doctor knew that insurance wouldn't cover Crazies bastardized therapy plan because he had called it in to the pharmacy earlier that day, at which time my techs informed him that insurance would not cover it and that it would be rather costly. This was even more evidence of what a pain this particular crazy was. Even though the doctor knew that it was inappropriate usage of that medication, he wrote her a script for it anyway just to get her out of his hair. Crazies are persuasive, and this one apparently had used a Jedi Mind Trick.
Doctor: What do you suggest? Her insurance won't cover the Diflucan. Big surprise.
Me: Right. How about nystatin suspension? It's cheap, and the duration of therapy should satisfy her. It seems like that's what she's most worried about. Say nystatin three times a day for a week?
Doctor: Fine. She doesn't know the prescription is being switched, though, so you'll have to explain it to her when she gets there. She's probably going to balk, so be sure to let her know that what we just talked about is what I want.
Me: Don't worry. I have experience with these kind of people.
Crazy ended up coming to the drive through about an hour later. She found out he prescription was switched and freaked. I spent probably 20 minutes with her. Not only was she crazy, she was dense. I'm talking George Bush foreign policy stupid. I explained the situation to her about ten different ways. I finally settled for something she would understand.
Me: Your doctor did a special analysis of the infection. This is the only thing that will work.
Crazy got her medication, and I defused a bomb in the pharmacy. Everybody wins.
14 October 2007
In The Words Of Wayne Brady...
...today I nearly had to choke a bitch.
I was doing my usual pharmacy thing (counting pills, denying Vicodin refills) when a woman approached the register.
Me: Got some scripts to pick up?
Bitch: No, I just need you to ring me up.
I may have already mentioned that the pharmacy is not the place to take your grocery cart. This in itself is enough to make a pharmacist want to sterilize you so that you may not reproduce and spawn such discourteous offspring. I'm still working on a remote sterilization device, by the way. When I get it perfected, I will use it a SHITLOAD.
One offense (even one so horrendous) is forgivable. This ingrate decided that one was not enough, and decided to follow it up with more abuse. A few minutes after leaving, she came back to the pharmacy.
Bitch: Excuse me? Um, the womens bathroom is out of toilet paper.
Wow. I nearly lost it. People wonder why their prescription takes so long to fill.
Me: That's not really my department.
Bitch: Can you call someone? I don't want to go all the way up front.
Me: Sure.
I didn't call anyone. I wonder how long she waited.
I was doing my usual pharmacy thing (counting pills, denying Vicodin refills) when a woman approached the register.
Me: Got some scripts to pick up?
Bitch: No, I just need you to ring me up.
I may have already mentioned that the pharmacy is not the place to take your grocery cart. This in itself is enough to make a pharmacist want to sterilize you so that you may not reproduce and spawn such discourteous offspring. I'm still working on a remote sterilization device, by the way. When I get it perfected, I will use it a SHITLOAD.
One offense (even one so horrendous) is forgivable. This ingrate decided that one was not enough, and decided to follow it up with more abuse. A few minutes after leaving, she came back to the pharmacy.
Bitch: Excuse me? Um, the womens bathroom is out of toilet paper.
Wow. I nearly lost it. People wonder why their prescription takes so long to fill.
Me: That's not really my department.
Bitch: Can you call someone? I don't want to go all the way up front.
Me: Sure.
I didn't call anyone. I wonder how long she waited.
08 October 2007
Rule 4: I Fill Prescriptions, I Do Not Find Makeup/Toilet Paper/Soda
An average question on an average day:
Patron: Where's the _______?
In the space, insert any item I don't give a shit about, such as magazines. Such as cigarettes. Such as crazy glue. Noticing a theme? None of these items have anything to do with pharmacy, which means they don't have anything to do with me, the pharmacist.
My response to this question 9 times out of 10:
Me: I don't know.
People get put off by this. They usually pull a stupid look for a few seconds which is replaced by a dirty look after the gears stop grinding. Most people will drop it and take some initiative themselves and (gasp) go looking for said item. For the undaunted, though, they carry on.
Undaunted: You don't know? Who would know?
Holy shit. Any time this happens, I get the temptation to toss a smoke grenade over the counter and do a little 'urban cleansing'. I'll tell you who would know. The pharmacies at Corpopharm are in the back of the store. That means to get to the dispensary, you must walk through the entire store. This entails walking past the front store where you will find many helpful cashiers. These people stock the shelves at Corpopharm. This means that they're painfully familiar with the location of all the useless crap your little heart desires. They'll even lead you to it.
It wouldn't bother me so much, but pharmacists are busy. I barely have time to eat lunch or take a piss. I don't get breaks. The average chain pharmacy fills around 2000 scripts per week. Each and every one of those scripts must be checked before they go out into the real world to prevent stomach acid and induce boners (that's a technical term for erection).
Here's an example from today:
Chick: Excuse me! Excuse me! (I had my back turned to this person, and they needed my attention urgently). Do you guys sell cat food?
Me: No. (Yeah, bitch! It's right here next to the blood pressure medication and birth control. What the hell do you think?)
Why you're out of line:
Pharmacists don't go get their big expensive educations to help you choose a dish detergent or make sure you get the sale price as advertised in Corpopharm's flier. Ensuring medication safety means people don't die. This is more important than anything else, and that's why I don't really care if you can't find the Pepsi. It's just not important to me.
What you need to do: If your question is not medication related, figure it out for yourself. Or don't. Either way, don't ask me. You may end up impressing yourself by discovering potato chips in the "Snacks" aisle and diapers in the "Baby Care" aisle. I doubt it, though.
Patron: Where's the _______?
In the space, insert any item I don't give a shit about, such as magazines. Such as cigarettes. Such as crazy glue. Noticing a theme? None of these items have anything to do with pharmacy, which means they don't have anything to do with me, the pharmacist.
My response to this question 9 times out of 10:
Me: I don't know.
People get put off by this. They usually pull a stupid look for a few seconds which is replaced by a dirty look after the gears stop grinding. Most people will drop it and take some initiative themselves and (gasp) go looking for said item. For the undaunted, though, they carry on.
Undaunted: You don't know? Who would know?
Holy shit. Any time this happens, I get the temptation to toss a smoke grenade over the counter and do a little 'urban cleansing'. I'll tell you who would know. The pharmacies at Corpopharm are in the back of the store. That means to get to the dispensary, you must walk through the entire store. This entails walking past the front store where you will find many helpful cashiers. These people stock the shelves at Corpopharm. This means that they're painfully familiar with the location of all the useless crap your little heart desires. They'll even lead you to it.
It wouldn't bother me so much, but pharmacists are busy. I barely have time to eat lunch or take a piss. I don't get breaks. The average chain pharmacy fills around 2000 scripts per week. Each and every one of those scripts must be checked before they go out into the real world to prevent stomach acid and induce boners (that's a technical term for erection).
Here's an example from today:
Chick: Excuse me! Excuse me! (I had my back turned to this person, and they needed my attention urgently). Do you guys sell cat food?
Me: No. (Yeah, bitch! It's right here next to the blood pressure medication and birth control. What the hell do you think?)
Why you're out of line:
Pharmacists don't go get their big expensive educations to help you choose a dish detergent or make sure you get the sale price as advertised in Corpopharm's flier. Ensuring medication safety means people don't die. This is more important than anything else, and that's why I don't really care if you can't find the Pepsi. It's just not important to me.
What you need to do: If your question is not medication related, figure it out for yourself. Or don't. Either way, don't ask me. You may end up impressing yourself by discovering potato chips in the "Snacks" aisle and diapers in the "Baby Care" aisle. I doubt it, though.
04 October 2007
Rule 3: I Am Not Your Doctor
I am also not your insurance company. Now, I realize that this seems redundant. While interacting with any person in the pharmacy, I would expect this answer from this question:
Me: Who am I?
Anyone: Why, you're a pharmacist (?).
Correct you are! Most any person I would pose this question to would answer correctly. However, on a daily basis, I am confused with both doctors and insurance companies by a good portion of people that meander into my pill shop.
The genesis of this post lies in the fact that I get yelled at a lot. A LOT. I'm the first to admit fault, and sometimes it is the pharmacies fault. Sometimes means about 5% of the time, and that's being generous.
Me: Who am I?
Anyone: Why, you're a pharmacist (?).
Correct you are! Most any person I would pose this question to would answer correctly. However, on a daily basis, I am confused with both doctors and insurance companies by a good portion of people that meander into my pill shop.
The genesis of this post lies in the fact that I get yelled at a lot. A LOT. I'm the first to admit fault, and sometimes it is the pharmacies fault. Sometimes means about 5% of the time, and that's being generous.
Here's how the problem usually arises: You stop into the pharmacy to pick up your scripts. Not all of your scripts are ready yet. You immediately become angry and agitated. You huff and puff and threaten to blow the whole pharmacy down. There is a reason that one or more of your scripts are missing, and it's not because of me. Here's a list of reasons. It's actually rather short.
1) You doctor did not call in the script yet. You just left the office 5 minutes ago. Amazingly enough, you're not the only patient they have to take care of that day. Are you having an epiphany yet?
Spiffy: I've got 1 Rx here for you.
Dumbass: No, no, no! There's supposed to be 2!!!!
Spiffy: Was your doctor calling another one in for you?
Dumbass: They were supposed to! I just left there.
And so on and so forth. When you inform them that they haven't called it in yet, the normal response is to stand there and stare at you. I call it the refill-stare-down. Most people think that if they look at you long and hard enough, you'll just pull a new Rx out of your ass and bless them with some pharmacy love. It's comical.
Spiffy: I've got 1 Rx here for you.
Dumbass: No, no, no! There's supposed to be 2!!!!
Spiffy: Was your doctor calling another one in for you?
Dumbass: They were supposed to! I just left there.
And so on and so forth. When you inform them that they haven't called it in yet, the normal response is to stand there and stare at you. I call it the refill-stare-down. Most people think that if they look at you long and hard enough, you'll just pull a new Rx out of your ass and bless them with some pharmacy love. It's comical.
2) Your doctor hasn't gotten back to the pharmacy with the refill request we sent them a week ago. Once again, your doctor is very busy and usually doesn't get to his/her paperwork until his/her office staff corners them with red hot pokers. In this instance, your doctor is an asshole. I don't know why it's taking a week. Refer to the title.
3) Your insurance company has decided not to pay for your script. Sometimes, it requires a Prior Authorization (the PA will get it's own post in the future) and sometimes your dumb ass has tried to refill too soon. Either way, they're not paying for it. In this case, the script is indeed ready and filled, but for the full cash price. Of course, you'd rather murder babies than pay out of pocket for your medication. Thusly, you go home thinking that the mean ol' pharmacist just felt like being an asshole and denied you your medication. Right, like I want to give you another reason to yell at me.
Why you're out of line:
Any time an Rx is not ready, the pharmacy becomes the whipping boy. The reason is simple. The moment of realization occurs in the pharmacy, and we're the closest person to yell at. Regardless of who is at fault, we're the first to be punished. You're blaming the wrong person.
How to not be an asshole:
Take a deep breath! Count backwards from ten. Now, in those ten seconds you should come to your senses and realize that screaming obscenities at the pharmacy staff will get you nowhere. The size of the tantrum you throw is not directly related to how quickly you will get your script. Realize that we're doing everything we can for you. If the problem could be solved at the pharmacy, you would already have the script in your hand and you would be proceeding to more important tasks at the pharmacy like buying gossip magazines and arguing over coupons. Somebody shoot me.
Why you're out of line:
Any time an Rx is not ready, the pharmacy becomes the whipping boy. The reason is simple. The moment of realization occurs in the pharmacy, and we're the closest person to yell at. Regardless of who is at fault, we're the first to be punished. You're blaming the wrong person.
How to not be an asshole:
Take a deep breath! Count backwards from ten. Now, in those ten seconds you should come to your senses and realize that screaming obscenities at the pharmacy staff will get you nowhere. The size of the tantrum you throw is not directly related to how quickly you will get your script. Realize that we're doing everything we can for you. If the problem could be solved at the pharmacy, you would already have the script in your hand and you would be proceeding to more important tasks at the pharmacy like buying gossip magazines and arguing over coupons. Somebody shoot me.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
