Corpopharm Cancer Crisis

These are Christmas lights: pharmacy style!  My pharmacy is so nuts during the day time, I find it hard to believe they had time for such niceties.  See those green things behind them?  Corpopharm does a fund raiser twice a year to make it look like they give a shit about the little man.  This particular one donates funds to cancer research for children.  The registers promt the tech to ask if people would like to donate 1$ USD to the charity.  If they do, the tech gives them one of the green things and asks them to sign it so they can be recognized.

One day, I happened to be ringing up a patient while a Corpopharm manager was in the vicinity of the pharmacy.  He noticed that I wasn't asking people for the donation and prompted me about it.

Spiffy: I don't solicit people.  It's a personal policy.

Manager: You know what it's for, right?  Cancer.  In children.

He really stressed the children part, as if that somehow made it different than cancer in any other age group.

Spiffy: Do you know how much birth control I dispense every day?

Manager: Huh?

Spiffy: Every day I fill at least 10 scripts for birth control.  That means I fill at least 3650 every year.  And that's just my pharmacy.  Across America, pharmacists fill hundreds of thousands birth control scripts every year.  Do you know now much pregnancy that prevents, Manager?

Manager: Umm...

Spiffy:  Of course, no pregnancy, no children.  By dispensing all that birth control, pharmacists prevent thousands and thousands of new babies every year.  Not as many as I would like, but you've got to start somewhere.  That also means that simply by virtue of doing our job, pharmacists prevent hundreds of cancer cases in children every year.  They don't even have a chance of getting it.  Cancer, I mean.

Manager: Uhhhhh.......
Spiffy:  Yeah, I'm doing so much already.

After that, no members of management/corporate asked me why I wasn't hustling their customers.

Raunchy Restroom Regalia

I keep reminding myself that I'm almost done, that I don't normally work every day.  Friday, the sun will rise, and I will not go to Corpopharm that night

A lady came to the pharmacy with and interesting question last night.  

Lady: Who's in charge of the bathroom?

Some background for you.  At my Corpopharm, there are not restrooms for public use.  They are in back, behind a locked door, with the store manager's office and break room.  This is all located directly behind the pharmacy.  

This is a true universal contradiction, both very bad and very good at the same time.  Very good because the hordes of dirty, ignorant rednecks that populate my city have no access to them, ie, the cleanest bathrooms you've ever seen in a Corpopharm.  You don't even need to project vomit immediately upon entering.  Very bad because every ten minutes, some asshole comes to the pharmacy and says,

Where's the bathroom?

Now, normally I just tell people we don't have one.  This is essentially true, in that we don't have a restroom for public use.  When I'm at work, I'm pretty much a big asshole.  I don't believe that just because you have to urinate when you happen to be in the amusing little hell that is Corpopharm that Corpopharm must provide you with a place to do it.  For that matter, maybe you'll get the hell out a little faster if you've got a full bladder and your choice is to argue with me about coupons for another 10 minutes or piss your pants.

My source of ire comes from the fact that since the pharmacy is located so close to the water closet that those who know it's back there expect me to let them in.  This usually comes right after they hand me their ER script at 3 AM that they need so badly.  Now you've just asked your pharmacist to play bathroom attendant.  I don't think you know how insulting that is.  People usually don't understand that I can either fill a prescription (which no one else can do for you) or walk you to the bathroom so you can make lemonade.  I can't do both simultaneously.  And by the way, what do you think that register clerk is there for, good looks?  She doesn't even have all her teeth.

I have to admit that she caught me off guard with her question.  It may have been the sneaky bitches intent, now that I think about it.  Since my standard answer didn't apply, I said the first thing that came to mind.

Spiffy: In charge?  It sure isn't me.

I went back to work, and she just stood there for a while.  A few minutes later, I heard the register clerk up front page,

Pharmacy, code 10.

I turned to my tech and asked him what code 10 meant.  He replied that it meant someone needed to be let into the restroom.  I died a little inside and went back to explaining to the lady on the phone that she didn't get to change the dose of her antidepressant because she wanted it to be the same as her friend's dose.  I love people.

Corpopharm Conscience Clarity

There are 3 people in my Corpopharm over the span of the night from 10 pm until 8 am.  A pharmacist, a register clerk at the front, and a night manager.  This is usually more than enough people to stock the shelves, keep the drunks from stealing liquor, and of course fill the occasional prescription.  

Last night I got to talking with the night manager Stan.  He's a pretty quiet guy (and I'm not exactly conversational with people I don't know that well) so we haven't really exchanged much other than general pleasantries and small talk.  I'm currently in the middle of a long work jag since my partner is out of the country for a few weeks.  Stan wanted to know how I was holding up.  

Compared to days, nights in the pharmacy are a cake walk.  Changing from days to nights for me was like struggling to stay alive in the majors and then getting sent back to little league.  No competition.  I told Stan that things were fine and dandy like sour candy, but admitted that I would be ready for a little siesta when my partner came back.

Stan said he understood.  He said that he'd been in my shoes before, but that once he got into the rhythm of going in to work every night, it wasn't so bad. 

Me: Oh yeah?  What's the longest stretch you've worked?

Stan: Oh, gosh, I guess it was about four months.

Me: Wait, sorry?

Four months.  FOUR, with not a single day off.  Stan explained that about 13 years ago, another Corpopharm employee (his night counterpart) quit unexpectedly, leaving him as the only night manager.  At the same time, he was going through a divorce and naturally was in need of more income.  He said that Corpopharm was willing to give him the overtime so he just kept working to pay for the divorce.  

Me: Good lord!  How did you keep from going crazy?

Stan: Well, I felt pretty lucky to get the extra cash.  I just tried not to think about how long I was working for.  I put my head down and pushed forward.  It was the only way to do it, really.  There were a few nights, though...

He trailed off and a distant look grew in his eyes.  It only stayed there for a second or two, but you could tell he was remembering how awful it got for him.  Imagine how you would feel after 120 consecutive days (at 12 hours a day) in a retail store.  There are limits to what the human psyche can bear.  

                                                        ...well, you know how it goes.  After so long, it did start to get to me.  That's why I only did that for a few years.

My mouth dropped open further.  I probably looked like I was waiting for the dentist, not the rest of his story.  He went on to explain that he worked at Corpopharm every day for the next few years, with a day off here and there when day shift people would relieve him.  After the divorce, he had child support payments to keep up with, so he worked as much as Corpopharm would allow.  And after that few years?  I expected him to say that he went back to the normal 40 hour work week.  Wrong.  Stan said that after 4 years of nonstop Corpopharm pleasure, he started get a little weary of being in the store that much.  So, instead of just cutting back, he got a second job. 

As of now, he splits his time between Corpopharm and a local school district where he works a few days a week.  He works 80-90 hours each week.  Three days a week, he gets only three hours of sleep.

Stan: Those are the hardest days.  I do get a little tired sometimes.

Me: Stan... how do you do it?

Stan: Well, I wanted to be able to support my kids and still have some money for myself.  I didn't want to have to do without anything or not be able to afford the things I enjoy.  I want to have a life for myself, too.  Yeah, I wish my marriage had worked out better.  I think a lot of guys do yard work just to get a break from their wives.  Maybe there were some days when I should have stayed out in the yard a little bit longer.  Let me tell you something: if you get married, don't have kids and get divorced. 

Then he smiled.  It wasn't a bitter smile, either.  It was a happy smile.  He'd just given me some information that he had learned the hard way, and he was glad to do it.  There aren't many times that I talk to Stan that he doesn't smile like that.  I guess working as hard as he does, as many hours of the day as not, leaves you with a clear conscience and an easy demeanor.  If you work that hard, you can afford to smile like that.

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A phone call.

Caller: Is my prescription ready yet?

I waited.  And waited.  I was waiting for it to sink in that I needed something, anything, to identify this person.  Apparently, the person on the phone thought I knew them.  Or that I'm psychic.

Me: Your prescription (I wanted to have some fun)?

Caller: Yes, my prescription (a little impatient now)!

Me: Oh, right!  Well, let's see (I bang on the keyboard loud enough that hopefully the caller can hear the clatter of the keyboard).  Well, I do have some prescriptions ready.

Silence.

Me: Sir, I don't know who you are.

Caller: Oh!

------------------------------------------------------------------------

A man comes in to get a refill. I submit the claim to his insurance company.  The man's wife gets a three month supply of medication at a time.  The insurance company says it's a month too soon.  I check our records, and it is indeed a month early.

Me: Sir, do you still have some medicine at home?  You should still have a month left.

Man: No, we're out already.  My wife and my dog take the same thing, so I just give him some of hers when he needs it.

Insert your own joke.

Corpopharm Curiosity

Last night was an interesting night.  Sometimes I write down all the strange things that happen at work in the span of a shift.  It's pretty amazing how attenuated you become to the peculiar behaviors of people.  After a certain amount of exposure, you get so numb that things don't seem very remarkable at all until you put them in a different perspective.

1.  One of the first people I filled a script for asked me how much the medication would cost.  It's quite often that people hand me a prescription and ask, within a few seconds, 'How much will that cost?' like I know right off the top of my head.  I told her I would have to put the scripts into the computer before I could give her a price.  One was for amoxicillin, the other was for a cough suppressant.  I told her the price.  She responded with, 'Is that for the actual medicine?'

'Haha, of course not!' I replied, throwing up the facade directly behind me, exposing the shelves of actual medicine.  'You're the first person to ask for the actual medicine!  I've been giving the rest of those dolts sugar pills.  The joke is on them, my dear!'

I ran out from behind the counter and we danced a lively jig together.  Then we went unicorn hunting... with God.

2.  Shortly thereafter, Xanaxguy showed up.  Xanaxguy tries to get early refills on his Xanax every month.  Actually, it's more like every 3 weeks because he is always trying to get it filled before he's supposed to be out of it.  He calls in requesting a refill roughly ten times every day, I am not exaggerating.  You see, junkies think that if they can find someone at the pharmacy that doesn't know them, they can get their dope whenever they want it.  I think that they're so stoned they forget that the pharmacists, who all know who they are, have to check the script before it leaves.  

He was picking up a script for his son.  He had called in the refill for his son's medication and his Xanax at the same time... when I was on duty the night previously.  I had promptly cancelled the Xanax refill.  He didn't have the guts to ask about his Xanax, and I cherished the look of disappointment on his face.  He was also buying a large plastic dump truck.  Yes, for some reason Corpopharm sells some toys.  Lord knows how lucative the toy market is.  I had a sudden mad urge to grab a bottle of Xanax and dump it into the back of the toy dump truck.  I wanted to see his eyes widen as the pile of pills grew higher.  I didn't do it.

3.  As soon as I got to work, all I wanted to do was eat my tacos.  I had inadvertently slept all day, thus had no time to eat before work.  I grabbed some Taco Bell and arrived a few minutes early so I could inhale my soft shells.  As soon as I arrived, one of my techs had a funny story.

Some lady came to the drive through.  As the story went, she was being rather rude.  She demanded to know exactly how long her presciptions would take to fill.  My technician gave her an estimate of time and asked her to come back.  Suddenly, her attitude improved significantly.  Apparently, her car would not start and she wondered if he would not mind pushing her out of the drive through and giving her a jump start, pretty please please?

4.  Two of my favorite women, Superpharm and TheSister, called me on the doctor line.  I'd rather hear from them than any doctor.

5.  A lady came in with an Rx from the local poor hospital.  Poor hospitals are defined as hospitals which treat patients that have no means to pay for their own care.  These hospitals provide adequate care, but lack certain other attributes.  She had a script for 10 Vicodin.  Whoop-de-do.  I never make conversation, but she started in regardless of my stony face.  

PoorVicodin: 'Do you have anything for tooth pain...' I start thinking Orajel-Anbesol... 'because I lost my top denture, and the bottom one is rubbing on my gums.'

Wait.  Wait just a god damned minute.  How do you lose your top denture, but not the bottom one?  Did she lend it to a mean spirited friend?  Did she get in a spitting competition on the edge of a deep sea?  Did she get an unexpected visit from the evil tooth fairy?  Maybe she drove around town with her head hanging out the window like a dog, cheeks flapping in the wind with an air of gay frivolity.  She actually said that she lost one denture but not the other with a straight face, like that kind of thing happened every day.  

6. A guy came to the pharmacy for a consult on cock rings.  Yes, apparently Corpopharm sells cock rings.  Vibrating cock rings.  They are right next to the condoms.  He came to me because he was concerned that his dick was too big and that he would injure himself by using it.  He said that he was willing to try because it was his girlfriend's birthday, and he wanted to make her happy.  In the course of the conversation, he noted that he was from Michigan, and that he didn't much care for Missourians.  I'd have to say that I agree with him.

7.  I got home at 7:15 and deposited 65 doses of flu vaccine into my keg refrigerator.  They're right next to a keg of Bud Light and underneath a six pack of Summit ale.  When I picked up the keg, they said, 'Oh, you again?'.  Applephiliac got the Summit as part of a love offering from some sick fiend in Minneapolis.  The flu vaccine is going to a clinic that another Corpopharmacist is doing next week.  I wonder how all those patients would feel about about that vaccine sitting in a refrigerator that has caused so much vomiting.  This is my life.

I Am The Healthiest Man Alive

Just got some blood work back from the doctor.  I went last month for the first time in about 5 years because my head felt like it was going to explode and my blood pressure was tad high.  It had been a bad week at work.  The results are in:

HDL: 75

LDL: 60

Trigs: 66

AST: 20

ALT: 21

Average pulse and BP (cumulative): 60 and 125/82

What these mean in a nutshell is that I will never have cardiovascular disease and that my liver has taken all the punishment I've thrown at it over the years with jolly good cheer.  Also, my heart is the size of a small imported car (but in a good way).  With that, where's my whiskey?

Fraudulent Fentanyl Fiasco

And last night may have been boring.  Sometimes I'm glad for all the smackheads in my neighborhood.

Fakescriptguy showed up again last night.  He's been in twice in the last month, and I promised myself that I was going to do something about it the next time he showed up.  The last two times he came in he came with fake scripts for CIIs (the good shit).  Anybody that brings in something I suspect to be fake gets the same treatment.  I tell them that I have to call their doctor and check with them about whatever before I fill the script.  They usually take the script, give some bullshit excuse, and never come back.  Fine.  This asshole keeps coming back, and it is testing my patience.  Trying something that dumb multiple times means that a) you are indeed that dumb, or b) you have a substance abuse problem that causes you to do dumb things to obtain drugs.  Neither of these is forgivable.

I was on the phone with Superpharm when I saw him walking toward the pharmacy.  It was about midnight and nothing else was going on.  I got excited.

Me: Shit!  Fakescriptguy is here!  He was just here last week!

Superpharm: Really?

Me: I'll call you back.

I grabbed my notebook.  The local police station is only 2 blocks away and I have a number that will take me directly to dispatch.  They love crackheads just as much as I do.

Fakescriptguy: Hi! I need to buy some needles.  I need BD 1/2 cc short needles.

Apparently Fakescriptguy thinks that being able to tell me what kind of syringes you want gets me to open the door of the pharmacy. 

Me: Do you have a prescription for syringes or insulin?

Fakescriptguy: No.  I thought you didn't need one.  I know what kind of insulin my friend uses...

It's always 'my friend'.  In case you didn't know, diabetics are unable to buy syringes for themselves, and must always send a friend to get them.  Such a terrible affliction.

Me: I don't sell them unless you've got a script on file for insulin. 

Fakescriptguy: OK, I'll go see if they've got one.

He left, and I have to admit I felt a bit cheated.  Apparently he'd already obtained narcotics elsewhere and now just needed needles.  I was wallowing in self pity when I saw a cop wandering around in the store.  I decided to get some legal advice.

I hailed the cop and talked with her for a few minutes.  I showed her some copies of the fake scripts from previous episodes, explained the situation, and asked if she could arrest this asshole for me.  I told her I could get cooperation from the doctor he was forging, show her video of him at the pharmacy, get them fake scripts that he'd filled previously, etc.  

Cop: No problem.  Next time he comes in with a fake, just stall him out and call us.  We'll bring down the drug dogs and show him what a set of cuffs feels like, if he doesn't know already.

It's time for some pharmacy justice, bitches.

Saturday Stupidity

A phone call.

Caller: Can you tell me what atenolol looks like?

Me: Uh, there's lots of different manufacturers that make that.  What's your name? (checking computer)  I don't see you in our computer.  Did you get them here?

Caller: No, I got them at Wal Mart.

Me: OK.  If you get all your pills and tell me what they look like, I can tell you which one is atenolol.

Caller: I think I took the last one.  What does Wal Mart's look like?

Me: (pause) Sorry?

Caller.  What does Wal Mart's atenolol look like?

Me: How would I know?

That's right, the person just asked me what kind of pills Wal Mart has.  Just so we're clear, I don't work for Wal Mart.  I don't even go to Wal Mart.  The last time I was there of my own volition was years ago.

This sort of thing happens more commonly than you would like to think.  People sometimes expect me to 'check in my computer' to see if any other Corpopharm has their medication in stock.  Half the time the computer at my pharmacy doesn't even know what the hell we have in stock.  Ask me what drugs I have, I'll tell you.  Ask me what a different pharmacy has and I'll tell you where to go.

And another thing: quit fucking asking me where shit in the store is located.  Here's some food for thought.  Look in the pharmacy.  Notice everybody wearing white coats?  Now, look throughout the front store.  See any white coats? No?  What does that tell you?  The only time you're going to see a white coat any where but the pharmacy is because they're showing your dumb ass where the tampons are because you're too fucking stupid to read the signs over the aisles.  I'm done.