The Sweetest felon I've ever known
I've been hung up on guys before. Badly. I made pretty good on last weekend's decision to keep a casual distance between Pip and myself; if I noticed him working when I walked in and he didn't notice me, I didn't go out of my way to draw his attention to myself. He mentioned Wednesday that he hadn't seen me in a while, but didn't make anything of it. I still talk to him, since I don't want to come across as rude or make him suddenly think he's done something offensive, etc, and I was admittedly quite terrified that all the gooey feelings would come back if I got near him again, like they did with all the other guys. It was just the usual, asking if the Pharm was busy, moaning that he was 'so ready to go home' just like he always is, right from the minute he walks through the front doors. Later I was on lunch and he popped out and came over to sit beside me. I felt . . . nothing. I mean I don't loathe or hate him, nothing like that, but the gooey feelings did not return, and I couldn't be more thrilled. He's just yet another addition to my circle of endearingly rough around the edges friends; can we ever have enough of those? While I still have to admit that he's damn cute and has some of the prettiest blue eyes I've ever seen, I can at least see the rest of him for what he really is. For his sake, I do hope he wakes up and changes someday; I think he's genuinely a sweet person with a good heart if only he didn't make such dumb life choices. But I can't help him, I can't change him, and I'm not going to spend all my energy and time trying, and he's definitely not relationship material. And I inwardly cringe more and more every time he quotes the Simpsons and then laughs hysterically at himself. Yikes.
Have we missed this?
Oh my god . . . so, the pharmacy. It is what it is. Let's start with needles. Yes, needles, we sell them. Lots of them. Coming to the counter and asking me for needles is like going to the Pharmacist and telling him you need a pill. We have three different types of needles and each type comes in varying lengths and gauges. How can you stick something in yourself on a daily basis and NOT know what it is? And for those of you who send friends or relatives to buy your needles without telling them the correct size and gauging, we hate you. Your friend probably hates you a little too, because the whole situation has made them feel foolish.
No, you may not take the needles to the front to pay for them, that has to be done back here.
No, I cannot open a needle so you can look at it to see if it 'looks right/looks like the one I use'.
Idiot Customer: "I need a box of insulin needles."
Me: "What size and gauge?"
IC: "Uh . . . they're for my Mom, I give her a hundred units and then 30 at night, so I need the 100 unit ones."
Me: "What gauge?"
IC: "100 units. I give her blaah blah blah"
They'll proceed to give me a long-winded speech about how many different insulins they give their relative, what kinds, how many units, and the time of day they administer. Shut the fuck up, I seriously don't give a shit because none of this helps me one iota. Gauging. It's how big the needle is. No, not how long, you miserable dolt, how BIG. Girth. Do you want the biggest needle we have, the smallest, or the one in between?
IC: "I told you, 100 units."
Fuck you, die and go to hell and burn in fire and damnation. I'll just get you a box of 100 unit syringes in the smallest gauge I have, for the sake of your loved one, and don't you dare try to bring them back, because they're non-refundable by FEDERAL LAW.
Okay . . . whoever sent this senile old man in the scooter on the pharmacy errand, I really, REALLY hate you. He came to my counter, gave me the name and date of birth for the scripts he was picking up, and before I could get a single syllable out, he told me he needed a box of ReliOn. I asked him if he wanted the N, R, or 25/75. He says he doesn't understand. Oh, for fuck's sake! How can he not know this? It turns out he wanted needles, not insulin. RAR! When people tell me they want ReliOn, they're usually asking for freaking insulin. From the fridge. And of course once I figured out he wanted needles, we repeated the above situation because he had no idea that they came in so many different types and sizes. My fellow cashier had arrived by this point and she ended up going off with him on a hunt for the elusive Phillip's Stool Softener and they were gone for a good solid 10 minutes. At least before he left with her, he told her "I really don't know what I'm doing." Which again begs the question, who the hell did thought he'd be a good person to send on the quest for needles and poo pills? Oh yeah, and he had a piece of paper with drug names and RX numbers that were needing refilled, but he didn't know that, he only knew he was supposed to 'get them' and so he tried reading them off to me at breakneck speed and expecting me to know what to do with all the mumble jumble. Screw the person who did this to both him and me.
"These tough economic times"
That phrase is getting more and more overused every day and I'm kind of starting to hate it. At Volde-Mart, a lot of our scripts are $4 for one month and $10 for three months supply, which IMO is a spanking good deal, considering the price of drugs. If I say your total is $4, you have no idea how much rage I have to contain when your eyes bug out and you whine "But didn't my insurance take anything off?!" Seriously? REALLY? I know money is tight for some people, but it's four freaking dollars, stop being a skinflint and pay up and get out of the way so I can take the massive line building up behind you. I might feel a little bad for you if I hadn't seen you already trolling the store an hour ago, your cart filled with useless holiday crap, movies, and junkfood. And again with the insurance and medicaid cards, give the damn things to the techs when you DROP OFF. Drop off. It's not hard. Don't give them to the cashiers, we hate it. We have to take them back and give them to the techs anyways and you make this whole process longer and hold everyone up, AGAIN. Also, don't argue with the tech or Pharmacist and then come to a cashier expecting us to wave a magic wand and fix things, aka, tell you what you want to hear since our superior didn't. We're at the bottom of the totem pole here, how hard is that for your tiny pea-brains to comprehend? Especially if the Pharmacist tells you something. They're the big bosses, they know everything there is to know back here and then some. If they told you it can't be done, it can't. Be. Done.
Also, sob stories don't work with us. So you or someone you know needs this medicine right now. They're hurting/sick/throwing up in your car. Well, I am sorry, but that's too bad. Everyone here needs medicine. And if you are gonna try the "My son is at home crying, he's so sick and he needs his Mama right now, and he really needs this medicine" card, I should let you know that I'll only feel bad if it's a small child. When I looked to see your son was nearly 13 fucking years old, I had to turn around so I could roll my eyes. If he really is at home crying, which I doubt, tell him to man up and grow some freaking balls. Now sit your Helicopter-Mommy ass down and wait your turn, I'll let you know when it's done.
Please don't bleed on my counter.
Please join the rest of us in the 21st century and stop writing checks at the store. Especially when you take so long writing said check that I feel like it'll be the 22nd century before I finally get rid of you.
And some general retail peeves/things not to do in the store:
Please do not randomly grab employees. The young man in grocery seemed to take it well enough, but it's good for his customer that he wasn't the jumpy type who reacts to being touched by hitting people or screaming at the top of his lungs.
Please do not ram yourself into employees stocking the shelves/bins to get at the product they are stocking. Pip was nearly floored several times last week all in the name of customers getting the almighty sweet potato/celery/cranberries. Also, if you observe an employee rushing in front of your path to pick up a bag or something slippery off the floor, don't walk in front of him/her so you can step on the object in an attempt to trip, fall, and sue the store.
You don't get a please this time. Never, under any circumstances is it EVER acceptable for your child to stand up in a shopping cart, drop trou, and pee all over the floor. Why on earth would he/she think this is ok in the first place? Your house must be a literal pig sty. My friends in the toy department are tired of cleaning up pee.
Do not pull off the 'Out of order' sign taped to the stall door in the bathroom and then proceed to fill up the already broken toilet with loads and loads of paper towels. Not toilet paper, but paper towels. Again, who does this?
Thus ends another week of tales from the Mart of Wal. Look forward to more as the holiday season grows ever more failtastic!