The Pharmacist

Yesterday I had to get a refill of some medication (smegmastatin) that keeps Officer Cynical's cholesterol low enough that his blood doesn't turn into egg yolk. I don't know very much about pharmacy, but just that visit alone was enough to make me glad pharmacists aren't armed (as far as I know).

I go to Great Big Pharmacy. It used to be very convenient to our old house, but is clear across town from our current one. I continue to go there because the pharmacists and technicians are very knowledgeable, helpful and courteous. Yesterday, for some reason, none of the usual staff was there - just one pharmacist and one technician, neither of whom I recognized.

I may not be the greatest pharmacy customer in the world (although I now think I am), but I do know enough to arrange for refills on line a day or so in advance. Then, I usually can just walk up to the counter and pay. Yesterday, here's the scene when I arrive:

Mrs. Sourpuss walks up to the counter. She has a long, whispered conversation with the pharmacist, who then goes back, fills a bottle of pills, and brings it to the counter. Mrs. Sourpuss again leans over the counter and has another protracted, super-secret conversation with the pharmacist, who goes back and repeats step one. At the counter again, Mrs. S. is clearly not happy with the two bottles of pills she's been given. I can overhear that the number of pills is wrong, and that her husband's name, not hers, should be on one of the bottles. The pharmacist is looking at labels, flipping through stacks of paper, and staring at a computer screen, trying to sort it all out. Mrs. S is huffing and sighing, and just generally looking like she's sucking on lemons. Finally, the pharmacist tell Mrs. Sourpuss that if she thinks there's a problem with the prescriptions, she needs to contact her doctor to square it away. Mrs. S. leaves in a huff. This has easily taken 15 minutes.

The guy in front of me is next at the counter. He has a scrip he wants filled. The pharmacist tells him to come back in an hour. I see there are at least six people sitting in chairs along the wall next to the counter - presumably they're all waiting for scrips, too. The guy rolls his eyes and stomps out.

Meanwhile, the technician has been on the phone this whole time. He's getting step-by-step instructions on how to operate the software they use for patient records or whatever. During each pause in the conversation, he pokes the keyboard a couple of times and says, "Nope, that didn't work, either". The pharmacist is running the entire show herself. She's looking at the technician like she's trying to decide the best place to conceal his body.

As the guy in front of me leaves, some blue-hair tries to cut in line in front of me by coming up an adjacent aisle and then angling toward the counter. I body-check her into the rack of Sucrets like I don't notice she's there. I'm ready with my name, name of the medication, and that I'd had the wherewithal to previously order my scrip on line. I sign the sheet that says I know how to swallow pills without instructions and get out of there.

If you're a pharmacist in an operation like that, I salute you. And I thought I had a tough job!