I wrote this last night during a little down time at the ol' pill room. Of course I got about half way in and was really rolling when the shit hit the fan. The middle section is the first guy that interrupted me that turned out to be drunk/high/confused. You decide.
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Right now it is far too quiet to be a Friday night in the pharmacy. I shouldn't even think that let alone type it. My two techs left and it's like a tomb in here. Maybe even a little spooky being this close to Halloween.
Last night, however, was a doozy. It was steady enough that I stayed busy the entire night both filling scripts and taking care of some projects. The highlight of the night, though, was definitely Faker.
Faker came in around 11:30 wanting to fill a prescription for Oxycontin. I recognized him immediately having filled a rather large prescription of oxycodone for him a few weeks prior. That one had been for 240 oxycodone 30 mg tablets. For those of you not in the biz, that's a lot of damn oxycodone.
My wind was already up. One of my fellow Corpopharmacists had called me an hour earlier warning me about Faker, saying that he had already been to another pharmacy that night and was most likely Up To No Good. Not only that, but Faker himself had called earlier in the evening on two separate occasions. The first call was to see if I had a large quantity of oxycodone in stock, the same amount that he had gotten at my pharmacy before. The second call was to see if I had the Oxycontin which he was now trying to fill. He told me he was planning on paying cash. Sixty Oxycontin 80 mg is about $900. All this adds to up to one big stinky bit of fishiness.
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Hahaha. A quick funny. Some guy out in the OTC section just started mumbling rather loudly, ending in PHARMACIST. I look up, and he's about 50 feet away from the pharmacy holding a box of some vitamins waving them around like a traffic director, apparently trying to ask me a question. I asked him if he had a question, but he just continued to stand where he was and mumble at high volume. I instructed him to come over to the pharmacy if he had a question.
Guy: I just wanted to see if you were awake.
Me: (glare) Do you have a question about those vitamins?
He stared down at the box of vitamins as if he was surprised to see them. After a few seconds he looked back up, puzzled. He looked back down at the vitamins.
Guy: No. I don't have a question.
His cell phone started to ring.
Guy: I'm not here. Nope. I'm not here at all.
He walked away.
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Where were we? Ah yes! Faker. Faker was standing at the drop off window while I looked at the prescription that he has just handed me. The prescription appeared to be a copy, although close to being good. The doctor's handwriting was a pretty excellent forgery but the prescription itself was obviously a copy on plain old white printer paper. I was trying to decide what reason to give Faker for denying the fill when he opened his mouth and started to dig himself even deeper. Fakers do this quite often.
Faker: Yeah, I'm heading out of town tomorrow and I forgot all about this prescription. I know it's a little early but I need it. Unbelievable! I gotta pay cash for it, too. I hope that's OK. I've been taking this stuff for years after my surgery. When can I pick that up?
This is an abbreviated version of Faker's story. The Story is a trademark for every person who's trying to fill a fake prescription. I have no idea why, but they all have diarrhea of the mouth when it's time to try and pass off a fake. Maybe they think that if they distract the pharmacist he/she won't realize they're a big fat liar. Maybe it's just nervous babble. Whatever the case, every faker has the same story that is used every damn time, and this was no exception. Faker had given me the same spiel a few weeks earlier, even when I had no reason to suspect him and filled his prescription without argument. It's tiresome. This was just another clue that Faker's prescription was about as real as a three dollar bill.
My computers were down at the time. I told Faker to come back in about a half hour. I wanted to be sure of myself before I refused to fill the script. Faker left and I was poring over the presumed fake script when the night manager came back to the pharmacy.
Night manager: Did that guy try and fill a script?
Me: Yeah, I'm looking into it now.
Night manager: He was just up front making copies of a prescription. I saw him doing it and he said it was for tax records. Did you fill it?
Seriously? My jaw hit the floor. I probably looked like I'd just bought the Golden Gate Bridge and suddenly realized it. Picture the situation for yourself. This guy walks in a Corpopharm, proceeds to the copy machine (10 cents each) at the front of the store, slaps down his prescription template and runs off ten or so copies. He pulls out a freshly copied blank, scrawls out whatever prescription he's craving, and walks to the back of the store where the pharmacy is located. On the way he folds his newly minted fraudulent prescription back and forth a few times for good measure (he doesn't want it to look too fresh). Everybody knows most smackheads can't keep their prescriptions pristine anyway (they're usually torn, wrinkled and dirty). Arriving at the pharmacy, he presents his prescriptions with pride and the solemn knowledge that he has Done Good. Corpopharm, your one stop shop for all your fraudulent prescription needs.
I just stood there for a few seconds and let my brain process the information. Who the hell is that stupid? As it turns out, he was a whole lot dumber, but we'll get to that later.
Faker called back over the phone after about an hour and asked if his prescription was ready. I told him I would have to verify the script with his doctor because of the high dose. He mumbled part of The Story again and said he would be back in a few minutes.
Faker returned and brought out the big guns, the Guilt Trip Please Help Me Story. He stated that him and 'the wife' were leaving for a cruise the next day, and that he would miss the trip if he didn't get his medication NOW. He even told me 'the wife' was out in the car crying here eyes out. Boo hoo. He begged. He pleaded. He all but accused me of suspecting him for what he was, stating he'd never had a problem filling before and didn't understand what the big deal was. It was pretty neat to watch his emotions range from distressed to angry to hopeful. I just stood there and looked bored. After a few minutes he finally stopped orating (or maybe paused for breath). I simply reiterated that I had to verify the script this his doc before I could fill it. Faker looked like I'd just told him his dog died. Had I told Faker that if he got down on his knees and begged for it, I'm sure he would have. Don't doubt it. Opiate addiction is a terrible thing. Faker finally said he would take his prescription somewhere else to fill it. I wished him luck and he left.
When the day pharmacist arrived I explained the situation and asked her to verify Faker's script with the doctor's office and see if they wanted to try and catch him. When I arrived back to work this evening, a note was pinned up at the pharmacist's station with some paperwork attached. This was it:
That's right. Faker was so anxious to get his dope that he left the original in the copy machine. At Corpopharm. At the Corpopharm he was trying to commit fraud at.
This is the pinnacle of civilization has to offer in the year 2009. Excuse me while I go dump cyanide into the water supply.
1 comment:
priceless
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