Monday, November 15, 2010

Ho-ho, hee-hee, ha-ha

If anyone ever accuses me of being crazy, at least I can tell them I already spend the better part of my days surrounded by men in white coats. Tonight I'll gift you with a list of small but aggravating things people do to us in the Funny Pharm that peeve us off.

- Please know your name. Your first name does not equal your last name. If I ask for your name and you stare at me with dead eyes and answer "Uh . . . Brittney", don't get mad if I look back at you with equal disgust and lack of understanding. To quote Professor Diggory, what do they teach in schools these days? If you have recently married or divorced . . . decide what you're going to be called. Don't tell me you are Jane Smith, no, Doe! I look up Doe and get no results. Why? Because your dumb ass told either your doctor or the pharmacy technician that it was, in fact "Jane Smith-Doe". We get at least one of you a week, and we all hate you.

The same goes for multiple profiles. DECIDE what your freaking name is! If your name is Janet Elaine Dumbass, you should NOT be picking up scripts for Janet E. Dumbass and telling me they "might be under Elaine Dumbass". Oh my God, they were. Why? Why do you do this? My birth name is Grace. Most of my friends call me Gracie or Gracie Lou, but I wouldn't try to use that during a doctor's visit or get meds under that name. Lou isn't even my real middle name.

Don't tell me "pickup for Ditzy Smith" when it's for your son Johnny Smith. He's sixteen for goodness' sake, his name is on his own script. Are you going to try and put your name on his driver's license, too?

- See all the people standing there in that thing? It's called a line. Do not get in front of people. Group of idiot teenaged girls from my first week, this means YOU. Don't giggle at us and say you didn't know. Do not approach the counter from the other direction and get mad when we tell you we have to take care of the people who got there first. Do not butt between me and someone I'm waiting on to 'just ask a question.' I know your type. Your 'just a question' involves telling me a very specific brand of cough drop/laxative/gas relief/pink eye/lice shampoo and how we don't have any on the shelf, and can we call the person who works over there to ask them? No. I tell you the same thing all departments tell idiots like you. A truck comes in every night, but we (drones) have no way of knowing what exactly is going to be on it. You can call or try again tomorrow to see if your product is in. Now GO AWAY and please for the love of everything good and sugary, let me get this poor person's script for them!

- I'm an efficient kind of person. Waste not, and all that. Time shouldn't be wasted, so please, just tell me what you want or need. Don't spend five minutes giving me some long, drawn out back story about why you need me to do what you want me to do, just ask me to do it. Example: "She said you could do this for me (She? Who is she? Who, who's Naomi?!). I don't want to have to drive 30 miles to get this so she said you could tell me what generic $4 prescriptions I could have done here." The fuck . . .? I thought she meant she wanted a list of the stuff on our prescription plan, but no, that wasn't it. Turns out she just wanted a printout of all the scripts we'd filled for her in the last month. Why the fuck did she give me that jumbled life history story? It made me look stupid.

On the same note, picking up a script is easy. Just walk up, give me the last name and month/day of birth, that's all I need. I do NOT need:

"I think . . . Dr. No said he would call in a script for me. I saw him last week but they weren't able to call it in until today for some reason.It's for azri, ayrisf;hadf, azitrh . . . it's antibiotic. It was early this morning, so it should be in. This morning, around 8:45. It's for my blah blah blah but there might be another in there, I'm not sure. I called some in last week but I forget how many and . . . "

At this point I just tune out until they're done spewing this tripe at me.

- Our pharmacy is set up like this:

[Consultation window] [ cash register ]swinging door[ cash register ][consult window]locked door[drop off|drop off]

Do not approach the cash register and ask me or one of the other cashiers medical questions. If we ask "Do you need to speak with a pharmacist?" don't say "No, I just need a quick consult." OMG guess what? That means you need to SPEAK WITH A PHARMACIST. Only the pharmacist can answer your medical questions about when to start using that nicotine patch or what to put on that fungus under your boobs. Telling me about it is wasting both of our time. If I even attempted to solve your medical mysteries, I would probably lose my job, so stop asking me *sobs* Although in reality, if your complaint is "my son is screaming in agony and clutching his ear, but it's the weekend and my doctor is closed" or "I'm a smoker and mah chest . . . mah chest be hurtin', ya know?" my answer would be the same as his anyways. Get thine ass to an emergency room, stat. You don't play around with this shit. And for the record, smoking does not cause chest pains like that.

Do not stop and pause to read the signs hanging above all the various stations, notice that there is no one at drop-off or the tech[s] are on the phone or with other customers, and try to drop off your script with a cashier. We can't do jack-shit with a script. Well, I guess we could throw it in the trash, doodle gremlins on it, or make it into a paper airplane, but I don't think you'd like that.

-Speaking of trash, you know that huge black trash bin that you can see just beside the first drop-off window? It's our HIPPA barrel. We put anything with sensitive information on it in there until we bring out Mr. Shredder and feed him all those documents. This is only for documents or slips of paper we've written info down on. Do not stick your head through the window and try to read the papers in it. Do not reach across the tech's counter space and toss your soda bottle/McDonald's leftovers/chewed gum in there. No! Bad customer, bad! One of the techs got pissed enough about it Friday that she just told the manager what was going on and that she was moving the barrel out of customer reach/sight.

- Some meds are expensive. Usually I'll tell people the price after I've scanned them out of TASCo and before I scan them through the register. Why then do people insist on nodding and saying "Okay", then waiting until I've rung the stuff through register before staring with their mouth half open and going "Duuuh . . . why's it so much? It shouldn't be that much it's not usually that much." Oh, buggerfuck. Now I have to abort the transaction, which could take a while depending how useful/useless the CSM up front is about watching their palm pilot. Until I do this, the techs can't do anything with your order because it's tied up in my register. If you have a problem with the price, SAY something, dammit, before I ring it up and you put all your card info in.


Nothing much new here. Today he did write "Wash me Gracie" with his finger on the back of my truck. My truck's kind of dirty, you see. Har har, cute. The guy from the meat department saw us talking and said "Hey, you two need to take it outside after hours!" jokingly as he walked by. Later he mentioned something to another guy in grocery about me. "Then there's that guy in produce she's always talking to, I have to give her crap about it." So yeah, I guess people kind of notice we hang around each other a lot. I worried maybe I'm in produce just too darned much for someone who works on the other side of the store, but later that night, I see Pippy marching up to the pharmacy, pretending to look at things on the shelf, and getting in line to wave at me stupidly. He said later that he was going to come bang all over the counter and demand that I give him his crazy pills, but decided not to because there were customers back there. I gave him shit about it later and he said the only reason he was over there in the first place was because some genius in management decided there needed to be a rack of bananas by the express lanes on that side of the store and he was checking on them. Yeah, whatever. There was still no need to come marching into my department and bothering me. But it made me feel infinitely better about all the times I march into his when I have no real reason for being there. I talked to him for a while after I got off and he kept scolding me for 'keeping him from working' and 'bothering him' and 'wasting his time' but every time I made any sign I was actually going to leave, he'd start a whole new topic of conversation. Maybe he's just that lazy. Or maybe not.

Mom said she mentioned to Dad that I invited a friend over for Thanksgiving (I still don't know if he's coming or not) and at first she said the response was "What? Why? Don't they have a family of their own?" Oh geez Dad, I mean ouch :-( Really? She said he keeps asking more and more about who the mysterious 'friend' is and she finally told him it's a coworker of mine. Divorced for a few years now, two kids, but who would otherwise spend Thanksgiving all alone. She said he kind of went a little ballistic and said that if I was asking the guy to dinner "He'll think she's coming onto him!" Um . . . well . . .

Anyways, she kind of bit him in the butt saying that he'd do the same exact thing. And then he said the guy was 'really old'. He's 7 years older than me. "And divorced".Still younger that my youngest brother. And speaking of my brother, he's also a divorced single father. Only he only sees the kid (Chuck) about twice a freaking year. And Dad is forever mentioning women we know from churches and saying we should introduce her to him. Because my brother is such a prize? His wife was no saint, but when your husband makes loud pig noises when you are eating or putting food on your plate, I can't much blame her for leaving. Also he turned down a committed relationship with a female friend who liked him very much and would have supported him AND chuck should they have gotten together. He turned her down because "she's ok as a friend (and I suspect, fuck buddy) but she's too fat." I still think it's sad nothing ever happened with them, she was an awesome lady and we still keep in touch via Christmas cards and Facebook. I'm beginning to see why Dad didn't make it as a pastor. While he might say "don't judge, blah blah blah", I guess it's different when it's me? I dunno. I know that no one in his eyes will probably ever be good enough for me. But you can't try to set up my jackass brother with nice women from church "because he's a nice guy/good catch" and then get upset when your daughter has friend over that happens to be divorced and a few years older. Also, Mom gets pissed off at Dad for talking too much to female friends or what the fuck . . . long conversations with his ex girlfriends from 50 years ago. "But they need a frieeeennd" or "She's just a friend!" Yet if I have 'just a friend', all of a sudden he's worried I'm gonna marry the guy and ruin my life. Or the life he wanted me to live. Barefoot and pregnant married to a gospel singer, missionary, or preacher, no doubt.

I know he needs to get used to the idea of someone he doesn't know coming over, but I have to admit I'm a little surprised at the reaction. Heh. Ah well, it'll all be what it'll be, I suppose.

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