Spiffy gone

In 24 hours, I will be on the Las Vegas strip, drinking Singapore Slings with mescal on the side(that taste of burnt driftwood will be awful and wonderful simultaneously). Corpopharm will be so far away that my senses will no longer perceive it. I will achieve singularity and sanity in the same moment.

My hope for the weekend is that I will be a horrendous wreck, even by Vegas standards. My only plan so far is to spend enough time in the poker room at Caesar's to consume a baker's dozen of White Russians. That seems like an attainable goal.

I may not return to the real world after this. Vaya con dios.

Spiffy Tired

Corpopharm is stealing my life, and I'm not entirely sure how it happened. Last week I worked 64 hours and this week I'll have 44 hours by Wednesday night. All I've done in the last 10 days is count pills, explain Medicare D plans and erupt in the occasional emotional outburst. Here's an example, as seen from the eyes of Giggles, my lead technician:

Me (checking a script. Suddenly, I slam my fist into my keyboard and offer a few eloquent curses) Ratfink! COCKMASTER!!!
Giggles: Uh, Spiffy, what...
Me: Some asshole stole my phone list again!! WHAT THE FUCK!?!?!

I have a phone directory of the all the Corpopharms in my metro area. This phone directory sits at my workstation with other important pharmacy equipment. This includes my calculator, my fish bowl (it holds crap that I leave to deal with when I'm not busy), and my script pads. The only other people that occupy my work station are pharmacists. As the simplest explanation is most often the correct one, this leads me to believe that some floater pharmacist walked off with my phone directory. This, my friends, is not acceptable.

Having a phone directory is important because people call me all the time and expect me to give them the phone number, directions to, and to-the-pill drug inventories of Corpopharms in Bumfuck, Egypt. Here's my usual response:

Me: I don't know. Call 411.

I say this because it is inappropriate for the general public to assume that their pharmacist is a phone directory, and has nothing better to do than play operator all day. Moreover, I don't have the time. I keep the phone list because sometimes it is important to get people connected to the proper pharmacy in a timely manner so that they can get their boner pills or early Norco refill.

After the above mentioned fit, I walked around the rest of the day with a set jaw and clenched fists. At that point, I had been working far too much and just didn't want to be in the pharmacy that day. It was sort of a straw that broke the camel's back situation. My phone list had been pilfered a few times already, and that time just set me off. It was actually pretty amazing. People would approach the pharmacy, see me, and suddenly veer off as if it suddenly seemed wiser to not engage me conversation. I need to get pissed more often.

After leaving work that day, I realized it was a bit silly to become so upset over a trivial event. I came back to work the next day to discover a note that I'd attached to my new phone list in response to the recent larceny. Apparently I was in quite a fury, because I don't remember doing it:

If you take this phone list, I will find you and burn your house down. Love, Spiffy.

Work in my pharmacy at your own risk.

Chateaus Bitchin' Stands Proud

It's been a long road, but the house is finally done. Myself, Don'tworryaboutit, Risk, and Applephiliac have moved in and are reveling in it's splendor. Although we don't quite have enough furniture to fill it up yet, we have all the important items.

1. Keg fridge? Check.
2. Hot tub? Check.
3. Gun cabinet? Check.
4. Pool table? Check.

The keg fridge was actually the first item moved in, and we had a new keg in it within 7 minutes. We have our priorities straight.

Here's some memorable quotes from moving day:

You two leaving? Alright, I'll stay here and dong wander for a while. You know, establish a neighborhood presence.
-Me
I'm not lifting that fucking thing again. You do it.
-Don'tworryaboutit
My arms are cramping up. I need to sit down.
-Risk
Let's take this couch to the middle of the lot and burn it. The neighbors will know we mean business.
-Risk
Better get those pads on. We don't need any hot wood-on-wood action.
-Me
I need a drink.
-Don'tworryaboutit

I'm going to post more pictures on my picture site. If you don't have the address to my picture site, just leave your email address in the comment section of this post and I'll send it to you.

Moving

For the past week, Spiffy has been moving into his new house. Combine that with ~50 hour work weeks and you've got one plumb tuckered pharmacist. There has been precious little time for such frivolous pursuits like pharmacy rants and raves.

Internet is to be installed in Chateaus Bitchin' this Saturday. I'm going to put up a bunch of pictures of my new house sometime this weekend, hopefully. If you don't have the address of my picture site, shoot me an email and I'll send it to you.

Some other things have been brewing at work, and change appears to be in the wind. Keep your ear to the ground...

Hot Monday Action

I worked the whole Monday today. What a bad idea.

One lady wanted her scripts transfered from another pharmacy. My tech was nice enough to get all the information for me that I needed before I called the other pharmacy. She explained to the lady that we normally require 24 hours for transfers. The lady was not happy, and demanded to wait. Now, at this time it was about 8:30 on a Monday night. While we were not super busy, we were still trying to get caught up from a full day of Doctor no-call-backs, early Vicodin refills, and Aetna prior authorizations. For those of you not in the pharmacy biz, this is a joke and you should be laughing uproariously.

Lady: I've been running around all day, and I need this medication! I'll wait, I don't care how long it takes.
Tech: OK, you can wait, but it may take some time.
Lady: Fine.

She said fine like she'd won a battle or something. What an asshole. I got done with all the other 'urgent' things I was doing and called the pharmacy that was written on the transfer forms. They were closed. Awesome.

Me: That pharmacy is closed. I'll call them in the morning for you.
Lady: No, they're over at the other Corpopharm I was just at! I just had them transfer them for me 20 minutes ago when I was up there.
Me (pause, condescending look): So, why aren't you picking them up there?
Lady: This pharmacy is closer to where I'm staying. I just thought it would be easier.

Right. Easier as in taking up 3 different pharmacies time on a busy Monday to transfer her stupid pills. I'm sure they were stupid pills because no one is born that dumb after millions of years of evolution.

So, I called the Corpopharm up the street. I know everybody there because I fill in for the overnight shift from time to time. I cut straight to the chase.

Me: Did you just transfer some scripts from a pharmacy in Chicago for a really demanding lady with a fat mouth?
Tech: Haha. Let me get the pharmacist for you.
Pharmacist: Shit, she's there now?!? Oh, yeah, she was just here. When we told her it would take some time to get the transfers, she took the pill bottles back and left. Good luck with that one.

Here's the moment of sweet retribution. You get to explain to a person how stupid they are.

Me: Ma'am, I just called Corpopharm up the street and they said you left before they could transfer the scripts. I can still call the pharmacy in Chicago in the morning if you need me to.

The dawning comprehension on her face filled me with joy. First, her facial features appeared confrontational, as if she was about to start blubbering some ill constructed argument. It was a beautiful transformation from angry to confused to dismayed. She quickly retracted.

Lady: Oh, yes, that's right. Well, what time can I pick them up tomorrow?
Me: What time does your other pharmacy open?

She acted as if I'd just requested her to calculate pi to 45 places while juggling flaming unicycles.

Lady: I don't know!
Me: Well, neither do I. I'll call them tomorrow.

She then left, defeated. I only wish I could have done more.

Spiffy Saves Halloween

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.

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.