That's what it felt like at least. The high point of the 36 hours was when Giggles brought some chili to work for lunch on day 1. That may have been the best chili I've ever had, even though the way you eat lunch in the pharmacy is hunched down behind the counter pretending you can't hear the phone ring.
I spent 8-4 Wednesday at my regular pharmacy. For the most part, it was uneventful. To tell the truth, I don't remember much of it because it seems like a terribly long time ago. After that, I went to another pharmacy in my district to help out from 5-10. This pharmacy is much busier than mine. I'd never been there, nor had I ever been to a pharmacy that was set up like this one. Needless to say, I was unfamiliar with their workflow.
Me (addressing head pharmacist): I've never been to your pharmacy before.
Dumbass: Oh.
He then schlepped around the pharmacy for another 10 minutes without showing me anything.
Dumbass: Well, I'm out of here. Have a good night!
Me: Great (Thanks asshole! Hope your house burns down!).
After that, it was a cluster for the next 5 hours. There were probably 10 scripts missing that nobody knew anything about, CIIs that had gotten out without being verified (for those that don't know, a big boo boo), and other general chaos on the level of Courtney Love on a mescaline binge. To add to the fun, our registers all simultaneously shut down at about 6 PM, AKA rush hour. Once I was informed of this, I turned to the lines of people at the front of the pharmacy and braced myself for the fallout. I didn't care for the way they were looking at me.
Me: Unfortunately, we're having some difficulties with our computer system. We can't ring up any scripts until this problem is resolved. I apologize for the inconvenience, hopefully we'll have the problem corrected within a few minutes.
Lady at the front (huffy): I was told my script would be ready in 15 minutes a half hour ago. Now this!
She acted as if I'd just unzipped my fly and pissed directly on our server and laughed at her as I did it. I'm always ready to assume personal responsibility, but I just don't understand her mentality. Why would I want to make her wait? Trust me, I want you people out of the pharmacy just as fast as you do. Probably faster.
Wednesday night finally ended. I looked up for once and it was 9:55. I hadn't moved from my station save for a few times to counsel and other various tasks. My dinner was uneaten and my kidneys were drowning.
The next day, I had to open at the pharmacy downtown. It opens at 7:30. Instead of going home and sleeping like a good boy, I elected to stay out until 2. I've always promised myself that I would never let work get in the way of my social life. Thusly, I woke up with enough time to shower and drive to work.
The downtown pharmacy is awesome. It's on the street level of a building sort of on the edge of downtown. Walk past Subway, Huggy Bear's Bail Bonds and AMC and you've found it. It's awesome because not many people know it's there, and it seems to have been in a time capsule for the last 50 years. There's some interesting characters that visit this pharmacy.
Old guy: I've got a coupon her that says I can get a 5$ coupon with this Rx. Is that true?
Tech: Sure! Here you go.
He looks at her, looks down at the gift card, and looks back at her.
Old guy: Do you sell whiskey in this store?
Tech: Uh... Yes, but you can't use that to buy it.
Old guy (looking disappointed). That's OK. I've seen the light!
Yeah, I bet you have. Probably a brownish, murky light being filtered through a bottle of Old Crow.
Having gotten up late and missed dinner the night before, I was pretty hungry by 2 PM, which is when I finally got a chance to eat. I had put my lunch bag in the freezer (with the sandwich I made the morning before but hadn't gotten to eat yet) because there was no room in the fridge. When I got the sandwich out, one side was frozen and the other side was soggy. It tasted like shit. I ate it anyway.
Today my friends, I am off. Glorious, glorious freedom. I'm going to pick out some appliances for the house with Don'tworryaboutit and Risk. Hopefully they think we're flaming homosexuals.
31 August 2007
28 August 2007
Rule 2: You May Not Return Your Prescription
I assume that this rule (just like I assume every other rule) need not be explained. Let me rephrase that: need not be explained to intelligent, coherent members of Jesus-loving America. I keep forgetting that the majority of the United States are are knuckle dragging mouth breathers.
A recent dialogue with a patient may more aptly represent Rule 2:
Patient: You filled my script incorrectly. I usually get (insert drug type A) and today I got (insert drug type B).
Me: (pantomiming shooting myself in the face) Let me check the hard copy.
I check the actual prescription, and find that good ol' MD did indeed write for drug A. I get back on the horn with Patient.
Me: Your doc wrote for drug A. That's what they want you to have.
Patient: Well, I want to have drug B. That's what they used to give me!
Me: We'll have to verify that with your doctor. We can't just dispense it without having a prescription for it first.
Patient: You can take back the other one and refund my money, right? I mean, since you filled it for the wrong drug?
Me (hemorrhaging internally): I just explained to you that we filled it for what your doctor wrote for. And no, we can't take that medication back once it leaves the pharmacy. That's the law.
I've had people threaten to get me fired, to take their prescription to another pharmacy, and demand me to get the store manager. All of these threats are irrelevant, boring and utterly empty. Do I give a shit about any of the above? No. No no no.
Here's the deal: Once a script leaves the physical confines of the pharmacy, it is illegal for the pharmacy to take it back and dispense it at a later time. Period. I don't care if it was Jesus himself that picked up the script and immediately deposited said script in a kryptonite lined safe. Still illegal.
The Problem
Some people think that buying an Rx is like buying a bag of chips. Pull your head out. Imagine if your pharmacy just took back everything that all those assholes brought back on a daily basis and dispensed it to the next person who walked in.
Me: Here's your Vicodin. By the way, I just got this from that staggering mess of a human being that you passed coming in. Yeah, the one that was simultaneously lighting a crack pipe and picking at her pressure ulcers. Impressed?
Allright, I'll admit it, that scenario is fairly improbable. No one returns Vicodin.
The Solution
Educate yourself about your medications and know what your doc is prescribing to you. Instead of just giving an impatient nod or 'no no' when I ask if you have any questions about your prescriptions, put down the cell phone and take a look at what your new Rx is for. Your life may depend on it.
A recent dialogue with a patient may more aptly represent Rule 2:
Patient: You filled my script incorrectly. I usually get (insert drug type A) and today I got (insert drug type B).
Me: (pantomiming shooting myself in the face) Let me check the hard copy.
I check the actual prescription, and find that good ol' MD did indeed write for drug A. I get back on the horn with Patient.
Me: Your doc wrote for drug A. That's what they want you to have.
Patient: Well, I want to have drug B. That's what they used to give me!
Me: We'll have to verify that with your doctor. We can't just dispense it without having a prescription for it first.
Patient: You can take back the other one and refund my money, right? I mean, since you filled it for the wrong drug?
Me (hemorrhaging internally): I just explained to you that we filled it for what your doctor wrote for. And no, we can't take that medication back once it leaves the pharmacy. That's the law.
I've had people threaten to get me fired, to take their prescription to another pharmacy, and demand me to get the store manager. All of these threats are irrelevant, boring and utterly empty. Do I give a shit about any of the above? No. No no no.
Here's the deal: Once a script leaves the physical confines of the pharmacy, it is illegal for the pharmacy to take it back and dispense it at a later time. Period. I don't care if it was Jesus himself that picked up the script and immediately deposited said script in a kryptonite lined safe. Still illegal.
The Problem
Some people think that buying an Rx is like buying a bag of chips. Pull your head out. Imagine if your pharmacy just took back everything that all those assholes brought back on a daily basis and dispensed it to the next person who walked in.
Me: Here's your Vicodin. By the way, I just got this from that staggering mess of a human being that you passed coming in. Yeah, the one that was simultaneously lighting a crack pipe and picking at her pressure ulcers. Impressed?
Allright, I'll admit it, that scenario is fairly improbable. No one returns Vicodin.
The Solution
Educate yourself about your medications and know what your doc is prescribing to you. Instead of just giving an impatient nod or 'no no' when I ask if you have any questions about your prescriptions, put down the cell phone and take a look at what your new Rx is for. Your life may depend on it.
26 August 2007
Weekend
What an awesome weekend. I made it my goal to not plan anything, to have no commitments whatsoever so that I would be able to pursue any novelty, no matter how self destructive.
Don'tworryaboutit decided to try out a new pickup line at JUD on Saturday night. He must have been working on this little gem for awhile. We were on the top floor, watching a band that was playing mostly cover music. They actually did 'Sober', which really surprised me, because everything else they covered was pretty up-beat. It also reminded me to sober up for the drive home. How serendipitous.
These two girls started asking me about my tattoos, so I was chatting with them and doing my best to resist my natural compulsion to drink all the beer in the place. About that time, Don'tworryaboutit approaches and sits down at the table next to one of the girls. He says a few things I can't hear, as he's across the table and we're right in front of the band. After a few minutes, he leans an bit closer and offers this little doosey to the girl he's sitting next to:
'So, am I going to score with you later or what?'
Now, in Don'tworryaboutit's defense, he was drunk as a lord and fatigued by a long day of sitting by the pool and drinking beer. If he had had one more drink, he might have been slurring enough so that his oral diarrhea would have been entirely unintelligible. He was about as lucid Whitney Houston on coke binge. He might as well have asked her if she wanted to help him fund a 'kill some kittens' drive. The look on her face could best be described as shocked disgust. I lost it and started laughing my ass off. Hey, it was funny.
Girl: 'What did he say to me? What the fuck did your friend just say to me?!?'
Me: 'I think he said he likes you. How about this band, huh?'
You just can't beat that.
Don'tworryaboutit decided to try out a new pickup line at JUD on Saturday night. He must have been working on this little gem for awhile. We were on the top floor, watching a band that was playing mostly cover music. They actually did 'Sober', which really surprised me, because everything else they covered was pretty up-beat. It also reminded me to sober up for the drive home. How serendipitous.
These two girls started asking me about my tattoos, so I was chatting with them and doing my best to resist my natural compulsion to drink all the beer in the place. About that time, Don'tworryaboutit approaches and sits down at the table next to one of the girls. He says a few things I can't hear, as he's across the table and we're right in front of the band. After a few minutes, he leans an bit closer and offers this little doosey to the girl he's sitting next to:
'So, am I going to score with you later or what?'
Now, in Don'tworryaboutit's defense, he was drunk as a lord and fatigued by a long day of sitting by the pool and drinking beer. If he had had one more drink, he might have been slurring enough so that his oral diarrhea would have been entirely unintelligible. He was about as lucid Whitney Houston on coke binge. He might as well have asked her if she wanted to help him fund a 'kill some kittens' drive. The look on her face could best be described as shocked disgust. I lost it and started laughing my ass off. Hey, it was funny.
Girl: 'What did he say to me? What the fuck did your friend just say to me?!?'
Me: 'I think he said he likes you. How about this band, huh?'
You just can't beat that.
24 August 2007
Death From Above
I was lucky enough to be out running today (I was done with pill counting by 2) while an F-14 was maneuvering at very low altitude over my neighborhood. It was an amazing and terrifying sight. We've all seen dozens of movies with fighter jets (although only 1 with Tom Cruise, sad) but they really don't do the real thing justice. I was most surprised by the sound. At one point it flew directly overhead and was (I'm estimating here) about a thousand feet up. The sound was what I can only describe as a new orifice being torn in the sky. It literally sounds like ripping fabric. LOUD. If that thing was after me, I would bend over and kiss it goodbye. Being the victim of an air strike would suck righteously.
People all over the neighborhood people were standing outside rubber necking. Everyone from the nice offices downtown to the crackhead apartments a few blocks away. I think some of the bums even forgot bout their 40s for a second or two. I almost ran into a store when I was downtown to see how much loot I could rip off. No one would have noticed.
People all over the neighborhood people were standing outside rubber necking. Everyone from the nice offices downtown to the crackhead apartments a few blocks away. I think some of the bums even forgot bout their 40s for a second or two. I almost ran into a store when I was downtown to see how much loot I could rip off. No one would have noticed.
20 August 2007
Posting
I like seeing the comments you're all leaving on my posts. However, I do ask that you don't write my name or any other personal identifiers within them. Do to the sensitive material I write on my site, I feel that this should be self explanatory. Any information that identifies me or gives clues to who I am could compromise my work situation. Even though I never include any confidential information or identify anyone in my posts, it's still a risk. With that, I hope you're all enjoying the blog.
I realize that all I've been writing about lately is work, but that seems like all I've been doing. You can only write about getting loaded at a bar and sitting by the pool all weekend so many times before it gets a little repetitive.
With that, more work gripes!
One of my techs called in sick today. Sweet. It's not like we need the help on Monday. The phone would never quit ringing and it seemed like everybody wanted their script yesterday.
An interaction with an insurance company:
Me: I'm calling because I have a patient here who contacted you about his copay. You told him that it should be much lower.
Insurance: Oh! Yes! His copay for this medication should be much lower! That's far too high.
*pause*
Me: No shit. That's why I called you. Are you going to fix it?
An interaction with a lady who gave me approximately 1/10th of a second to acknowledge her presence at the consultation window.
Lady: Hey! Hey! I have a question (she actually yelled 'hey' twice in rapid succession).
Me: Hay is for horses.
Lady: *glare*
I had at least 3 people call in to let me know that I'd filled their prescription incorrectly. It seems that everyone has a Pharm D these days.
I realize that all I've been writing about lately is work, but that seems like all I've been doing. You can only write about getting loaded at a bar and sitting by the pool all weekend so many times before it gets a little repetitive.
With that, more work gripes!
One of my techs called in sick today. Sweet. It's not like we need the help on Monday. The phone would never quit ringing and it seemed like everybody wanted their script yesterday.
An interaction with an insurance company:
Me: I'm calling because I have a patient here who contacted you about his copay. You told him that it should be much lower.
Insurance: Oh! Yes! His copay for this medication should be much lower! That's far too high.
*pause*
Me: No shit. That's why I called you. Are you going to fix it?
An interaction with a lady who gave me approximately 1/10th of a second to acknowledge her presence at the consultation window.
Lady: Hey! Hey! I have a question (she actually yelled 'hey' twice in rapid succession).
Me: Hay is for horses.
Lady: *glare*
I had at least 3 people call in to let me know that I'd filled their prescription incorrectly. It seems that everyone has a Pharm D these days.
Rule 1: Don't Ask Me About Your Copay
This is a cardinal sin of the pharmacy going public. Here's how the usual interaction goes as the patient is being rung up for their drugs:
Tech: OK, it's X dollars today for your prescription.
Patient X: Oh, no! That's not right. It's normally Y dollars.
Tech: We submitted it to the same insurance plan as last time. That's the copay your insurance company returned to us.
Patient: Oh, I see. I guess I'll stand here and bitch about it for 10 more minutes because, even though you told me that's the price my insurance company set, you're here in front of me now so I just assume it was you who set my copay.
OK, they don't actually say that, but that's just what they do. I can always hear the exchange even if I'm not at the register. If you look over at me, I'll be staring intently at my computer screen, but what's going on in my head is far different. It usually involves me delivering a flying dropkick over the counter to whoever happens to be complaining about their copay at that particular moment.
Now that I've described the scenario, here's a little more detail about how the problem arises:
The Assumption
The assumption (remember what assuming makes you?) by the patient is that the pharmacy determines their copay. This assumption is baseless and ignorant. When your pharmacy fills a prescription for you, they send a claim to your insurance company. Your insurance company in turn sends to us the amount they're reimbursing the pharmacy as well as the amount that you contribute. That's right, your copay. The bottom line being that I have about as much to do with your copay as I do that stupid look on your face.
The Reality
I don't know why your copay is what it is. Furthermore, I don't give a shit. Your insurance situation is as baffling to me as it is to you. You are confused, but you shouldn't be. Why? When you got your insurance plan, they sent to you via good ol' snail mail a large folder full of information about your prescription drug coverage and how your payments worked. What you did was promptly shove that information up your ass and forgot it ever existed. So, when you come to my pharmacy and expect me to know your insurance inside and out, I become a bit agitated.
Sick as it sounds, this is the reality. Even after you explain the situation, they just sit there and stare at you as if you'll suddenly say, 'Oh, well, if you're that persistent I guess I'll change the bill to a figure that's more satisfactory to you. Sorry for the trouble.' And perhaps add in a cute little dance routine to brighten up your day. Right.
How can you prevent me from desiring to perform a frontal lobotomy on you next time you come to my pharmacy? Inform yourself about your own health care and quit throwing a fit like a two year old when I tell you what your copay is. Your mother taught you manners at one point in your life (I know mine did) and I'm assuming you know how to use them.
Tech: OK, it's X dollars today for your prescription.
Patient X: Oh, no! That's not right. It's normally Y dollars.
Tech: We submitted it to the same insurance plan as last time. That's the copay your insurance company returned to us.
Patient: Oh, I see. I guess I'll stand here and bitch about it for 10 more minutes because, even though you told me that's the price my insurance company set, you're here in front of me now so I just assume it was you who set my copay.
OK, they don't actually say that, but that's just what they do. I can always hear the exchange even if I'm not at the register. If you look over at me, I'll be staring intently at my computer screen, but what's going on in my head is far different. It usually involves me delivering a flying dropkick over the counter to whoever happens to be complaining about their copay at that particular moment.
Now that I've described the scenario, here's a little more detail about how the problem arises:
The Assumption
The assumption (remember what assuming makes you?) by the patient is that the pharmacy determines their copay. This assumption is baseless and ignorant. When your pharmacy fills a prescription for you, they send a claim to your insurance company. Your insurance company in turn sends to us the amount they're reimbursing the pharmacy as well as the amount that you contribute. That's right, your copay. The bottom line being that I have about as much to do with your copay as I do that stupid look on your face.
The Reality
I don't know why your copay is what it is. Furthermore, I don't give a shit. Your insurance situation is as baffling to me as it is to you. You are confused, but you shouldn't be. Why? When you got your insurance plan, they sent to you via good ol' snail mail a large folder full of information about your prescription drug coverage and how your payments worked. What you did was promptly shove that information up your ass and forgot it ever existed. So, when you come to my pharmacy and expect me to know your insurance inside and out, I become a bit agitated.
Sick as it sounds, this is the reality. Even after you explain the situation, they just sit there and stare at you as if you'll suddenly say, 'Oh, well, if you're that persistent I guess I'll change the bill to a figure that's more satisfactory to you. Sorry for the trouble.' And perhaps add in a cute little dance routine to brighten up your day. Right.
How can you prevent me from desiring to perform a frontal lobotomy on you next time you come to my pharmacy? Inform yourself about your own health care and quit throwing a fit like a two year old when I tell you what your copay is. Your mother taught you manners at one point in your life (I know mine did) and I'm assuming you know how to use them.
13 August 2007
Premable
"Smokey, this is not 'Nam. This is bowling. There are rules."
-Walter Sobchak (The Big Lebowski)
Rules indeed. We must all live by rules. Rules separate us from the animals. Without them, society breaks down and civilization grinds to a halt. The rules we live by ensure the food you eat and the streets you walk are safe. It is in the spirit of rules that I introduce to you a series of many (many, so many) parts entitled:
Fear and Loathing in the Pharmacy: Chasing the Apothecary Dream.
After considering many ways to literate my daily grievances concerning pharmacy life, I've decided to post a series of articles outlining basic pharmacy etiquette. Rules of proper pharmacy behavior, if you will. No longer will I merely gripe about blunders of people that come into my little drug shoppe. I'm going to explain (in excruciating detail) what you are doing wrong, and how you can mend your boorish ways. By following these very simple and straightforward practices you can guarantee that your pharmacist will not hate you. They may even begin to like you.
Expect the first rule soon. I've already picked up many ideas like so much cannon fodder.
A little tidbit from today:
A Mom calls me. Mothers are ever so concerned about their children's welfare.
Mom: My son has ringworm. I want to know if a medication we picked up in Mexico can be used to treat it (she pronounces the name of the mexi-med, which I don't remember and don't much care to).
Me: Umm... That's a Mexican trade name that I don't know. Does it say anywhere on it what the ingredients are?
Mom: Uhh... Oh! Here it is. T-E-R-B-I-N-A...
Me(cutting her off, because I'm busy and don't feel like listening to a 5 minute spelling contest): That's terbinafine, the generic name for Lamisil, an antifungal, used to treat fungal infections.
Mom: Oh, so it's Lamisil? We can use it then, right?
Me: Where is the ringworm? How large is it?
Mom: It's by his eye, about the size of a quarter.
Me(pause): Does your son value his vision?
I hadn't meant to say that it. It just came out. Sometimes I cut to the chase to try and put things in perspective for people. Especially when they're going to put mexi-med on their son's face adjacent to a valuable part of the body such as the eye.
-Walter Sobchak (The Big Lebowski)
Rules indeed. We must all live by rules. Rules separate us from the animals. Without them, society breaks down and civilization grinds to a halt. The rules we live by ensure the food you eat and the streets you walk are safe. It is in the spirit of rules that I introduce to you a series of many (many, so many) parts entitled:
Fear and Loathing in the Pharmacy: Chasing the Apothecary Dream.
After considering many ways to literate my daily grievances concerning pharmacy life, I've decided to post a series of articles outlining basic pharmacy etiquette. Rules of proper pharmacy behavior, if you will. No longer will I merely gripe about blunders of people that come into my little drug shoppe. I'm going to explain (in excruciating detail) what you are doing wrong, and how you can mend your boorish ways. By following these very simple and straightforward practices you can guarantee that your pharmacist will not hate you. They may even begin to like you.
Expect the first rule soon. I've already picked up many ideas like so much cannon fodder.
A little tidbit from today:
A Mom calls me. Mothers are ever so concerned about their children's welfare.
Mom: My son has ringworm. I want to know if a medication we picked up in Mexico can be used to treat it (she pronounces the name of the mexi-med, which I don't remember and don't much care to).
Me: Umm... That's a Mexican trade name that I don't know. Does it say anywhere on it what the ingredients are?
Mom: Uhh... Oh! Here it is. T-E-R-B-I-N-A...
Me(cutting her off, because I'm busy and don't feel like listening to a 5 minute spelling contest): That's terbinafine, the generic name for Lamisil, an antifungal, used to treat fungal infections.
Mom: Oh, so it's Lamisil? We can use it then, right?
Me: Where is the ringworm? How large is it?
Mom: It's by his eye, about the size of a quarter.
Me(pause): Does your son value his vision?
I hadn't meant to say that it. It just came out. Sometimes I cut to the chase to try and put things in perspective for people. Especially when they're going to put mexi-med on their son's face adjacent to a valuable part of the body such as the eye.
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