Contrary to popular belief, I am not a carnival psychic. When you call me and say: "Did my doctor call in a prescription?" I shut it down. Ever see "The Simpsons" when Homer's brain says "that's it, I'm outta here," accompanied by running footsteps and a door slamming? Well, the utter silence you hear after you utter that question is what's going on in my noggin. It's great to say nothing after that question. The lacrosse helmet wearer on the other end usually says "HELLLLOOO?"
At this point, I switch to everybody's superhero, smarmy pharmacist dickhead guy (catchy, no?). I respond to their question and subsequent HELLLOOO by saying "it would all depend on who you are and who your doctor is........."
LHW: "Huh?"
SPDG: "I'm sorry?"
LHW: "DID MY DOCTOR CALL IN MY PRESCRIPTION OR NOT?!???
SPDG: "Again, it would depend upon who you are"
LHW: "Oh. Yeah. (neither are sentences or responses by the way)
SPDG: "Will you tell me your name?"
LHW: "Ohhh- My name is Lacrosse Helmetwearer - my doc sent it over the computer..."
SPDG: (why me, why now, fuckfuckfuckfuckfuck)
LHW: "It's for a script..... (no shit)
SPDG: "Who's your doctor and what's he calling in?" (I feel like Arnold (the governator) in Kindergarten Cop at this point - "who is your daddy and what does he do?")
LHW: Ohhhhh. Ummmm Dr. Stupid and he callin' in a thing for my foot.
SPDG: (I'll give you a foot directly to your head which is up your ass - two birds one stone)
No, I'm sorry I haven't received anyth
Interrupting LHW: I just called him 15 minutes ago....
This is my typical day about 3 times an hour. I'd just like to ask everyone to please not be socially retarded. When you call anyplace, identify yourself if appropriate. You might be saving a life on the other end of the phone - mine.
I'm gonna go throw rocks at passing cars now. Ta-ta
Thursday, November 29, 2007
Monday, November 26, 2007
You know, when Plan A doesn't cross anyone's mind...
I just heard a radio ad today for Plan B...or "emergency contraceptive" as they like to call it. it consists of two girls chatting away about not using condoms and the commercial ends in a nice slogan "after the fact, after the act."
now, i'll be the first to say that I have nothing at all againt Plan B. I'm not gonna bring a political argument into this but I'm pro-choice and happy to say it. What I do have a problem with is what Plan B is now being used for. I have had one, ONE, woman come to me, completely embarrassed to be buying it, explaining (not that I had asked) that he forgot to wear a condom yadda yadda.
I have had DOZENS of girls come in to buy it (or with a nice rx for it from the Planned Parenthood down the street) with no sense of the lesson here. I give out Plan B to welfare recipients who are not on any form of birth control. I gave a Plan B to a couple once where the boy exclaimed "wow $40? we got it for $20 at Planned Parenthood last time."
Last time. Meaning that this has happened more than once. Girls are currently using this as birth control, instead of practicing safe sex methods. because condoms "aren't cool." whatever. Plan B should be used exactly as its name implies: when Plan A fails.
There's no radio ad for condoms. Or for preventing STDs or how to practice safe sex. No ads telling you how many young people contract AIDS by not practicing safe sex. No ad the educates young minds about consequences of whoring around with the hottest guy in homeroom and having his baby at 16.
I'm all for Plan B for the RIGHT reasons. NOT as birth control. Sometimes I feel like throwing a 6-pack of Trojans in the bag at no cost in the hopes they'll get used. These scripts come with REFILLS. But never, NEVER do I see a Plan B script with an accompanying script for birth control. Or even condoms, cuz welfare (ahem, I and my fellow citizens with jobs) will pay for those too.
If you don't know how to take on the responsibility sex comes with, you shouldn't be having it.
We're one step away from radio ads explaining how to use a wire coat-hanger, people.
This subject really gets me fired up... so in closing let me give you some stats:
"Nearly four in 10 young women become pregnant at least once before they reach the age of 20. This totals nearly one million a year. Eight in ten of these pregnancies are unintended."
"Teen mothers are less likely to complete high school, (only one-third receive a high school diploma) and more likely to end up on welfare (nearly 80 percent of unmarried teen mothers end up on welfare)." This means that not only am I paying for your uneducated ass, I'm paying for your goddamn kid's too.
"The United States has the highest rates of teen pregnancy and births in the western industrialized world. Teen pregnancy costs the United States at least $7 billion annually." 7 fucking billion dollars.
" Every year 3 million teens--about 1 in 4 sexually active teens-get a Sexually Transmitted Disease (STD)."
oh ho and my personal favorite: " Young Americans between the ages of 13 and 24 are still contracting HIV at the rate of 2 per hour." age fucking 13.
"The correct and consistent use of latex condoms during sexual intercourse- vaginal, anal, or oral-can greatly reduce a person’ s risk of acquiring or transmitting most STDs, including HIV infection, gonorrhea, chlamydia, trichomonas, human papilloma virus infection (HPV), and hepatitis B." straight from the FDA.
sorry to go all political on you, but dammit, when you see these girls in here (especially more than once) picking up Plan B that are so young, so obviously uneducated, a part of me dies a little inside. How many STDs or pregnancies could have been prevented by using Plan A.
now, i'll be the first to say that I have nothing at all againt Plan B. I'm not gonna bring a political argument into this but I'm pro-choice and happy to say it. What I do have a problem with is what Plan B is now being used for. I have had one, ONE, woman come to me, completely embarrassed to be buying it, explaining (not that I had asked) that he forgot to wear a condom yadda yadda.
I have had DOZENS of girls come in to buy it (or with a nice rx for it from the Planned Parenthood down the street) with no sense of the lesson here. I give out Plan B to welfare recipients who are not on any form of birth control. I gave a Plan B to a couple once where the boy exclaimed "wow $40? we got it for $20 at Planned Parenthood last time."
Last time. Meaning that this has happened more than once. Girls are currently using this as birth control, instead of practicing safe sex methods. because condoms "aren't cool." whatever. Plan B should be used exactly as its name implies: when Plan A fails.
There's no radio ad for condoms. Or for preventing STDs or how to practice safe sex. No ads telling you how many young people contract AIDS by not practicing safe sex. No ad the educates young minds about consequences of whoring around with the hottest guy in homeroom and having his baby at 16.
I'm all for Plan B for the RIGHT reasons. NOT as birth control. Sometimes I feel like throwing a 6-pack of Trojans in the bag at no cost in the hopes they'll get used. These scripts come with REFILLS. But never, NEVER do I see a Plan B script with an accompanying script for birth control. Or even condoms, cuz welfare (ahem, I and my fellow citizens with jobs) will pay for those too.
If you don't know how to take on the responsibility sex comes with, you shouldn't be having it.
We're one step away from radio ads explaining how to use a wire coat-hanger, people.
This subject really gets me fired up... so in closing let me give you some stats:
"Nearly four in 10 young women become pregnant at least once before they reach the age of 20. This totals nearly one million a year. Eight in ten of these pregnancies are unintended."
"Teen mothers are less likely to complete high school, (only one-third receive a high school diploma) and more likely to end up on welfare (nearly 80 percent of unmarried teen mothers end up on welfare)." This means that not only am I paying for your uneducated ass, I'm paying for your goddamn kid's too.
"The United States has the highest rates of teen pregnancy and births in the western industrialized world. Teen pregnancy costs the United States at least $7 billion annually." 7 fucking billion dollars.
" Every year 3 million teens--about 1 in 4 sexually active teens-get a Sexually Transmitted Disease (STD)."
oh ho and my personal favorite: " Young Americans between the ages of 13 and 24 are still contracting HIV at the rate of 2 per hour." age fucking 13.
"The correct and consistent use of latex condoms during sexual intercourse- vaginal, anal, or oral-can greatly reduce a person’ s risk of acquiring or transmitting most STDs, including HIV infection, gonorrhea, chlamydia, trichomonas, human papilloma virus infection (HPV), and hepatitis B." straight from the FDA.
sorry to go all political on you, but dammit, when you see these girls in here (especially more than once) picking up Plan B that are so young, so obviously uneducated, a part of me dies a little inside. How many STDs or pregnancies could have been prevented by using Plan A.
Tuesday, November 20, 2007
Do as I say and you live...
Perhaps one of the most underrated awesomely bad movies of all time, Snakes on a Plane did have its moments. Sometimes being at work is just like fighting snakes...sneaky snakes...
At any rate, I think much of my frustration stems from patients (/customers/i didn't pay that much attention in pharmacy ethics and communication) is the fact that they don't listen. I'm sure they hear me. Most of them appear to acknowledge my generous wealth of knowlegde as it pours out of my mouth in a futile attempt to better your life. I mean, if you don't want to hear my answer, please just don't bother to ask. It's a waste of my time and yours. If you ask me a question, and reply with something like "yeah but my neighbor/cribbage partner/garbage man told me such-n-such would work better" then you obviously didn't want to her my fucking opinion anyway. so go ahead and put that sweet oil that you want to pay $5 in your ear...maybe you should have listened when I say "its just olive oil" and you probably A) already have it in your house or B) should maybe find out WHY your ear hurts in the first place.
When I have to explain why things are the way they are 3+ times, I start to get a little aggravated. I know you hear me, but you have to learn to quiet the voice in your head screaming "OF COURSE I KNOW MORE THAN THIS MEDICAL PROFESSIONAL MY GREAT AUNT IS A RETIRED NURSE" while i'm talking to you.
Sometimes I have important tidbits of information for you that may mean the difference between a healthy drug regimen or blowing out your internal organs. When I explain that you shouldn't be hitting the sauce while you're on Coumadin, don't ask "are you sure?" because then I am tempted to say "well go ahead, I hope you'll be alive to tell me how that went..."
When you show me a cut/scrape/puncture wound/something impaled in your hand and ask "what should I do?" and I tell you to seek medical attention immediately, don't whine and ask me if there's just some (i can only assume magical) cream you can put on it. I know that you know that you should see a doctor; I also know that you think you can get some free medical advice and a [cheap] cure-all from your local friendly pharmacy, and I also know that if I don't tell you what you want to hear, you will throw caution to the wind and let your extremity fester until amputation.
And I'll be honest. Sometimes I give in. You'll do what you want anyway. So I'll send you on your merry way with a tube of Neosporin.
But don't say I didn't warn you. Shut your damn yap and listen. When you OD on Lortab (better known as Loritabs) or get pregnant while on Amoxicillin I'll be the one giving you a nice smile-n-wave next time you're in the drugstore.
Maybe you can name the baby after me.
At any rate, I think much of my frustration stems from patients (/customers/i didn't pay that much attention in pharmacy ethics and communication) is the fact that they don't listen. I'm sure they hear me. Most of them appear to acknowledge my generous wealth of knowlegde as it pours out of my mouth in a futile attempt to better your life. I mean, if you don't want to hear my answer, please just don't bother to ask. It's a waste of my time and yours. If you ask me a question, and reply with something like "yeah but my neighbor/cribbage partner/garbage man told me such-n-such would work better" then you obviously didn't want to her my fucking opinion anyway. so go ahead and put that sweet oil that you want to pay $5 in your ear...maybe you should have listened when I say "its just olive oil" and you probably A) already have it in your house or B) should maybe find out WHY your ear hurts in the first place.
When I have to explain why things are the way they are 3+ times, I start to get a little aggravated. I know you hear me, but you have to learn to quiet the voice in your head screaming "OF COURSE I KNOW MORE THAN THIS MEDICAL PROFESSIONAL MY GREAT AUNT IS A RETIRED NURSE" while i'm talking to you.
Sometimes I have important tidbits of information for you that may mean the difference between a healthy drug regimen or blowing out your internal organs. When I explain that you shouldn't be hitting the sauce while you're on Coumadin, don't ask "are you sure?" because then I am tempted to say "well go ahead, I hope you'll be alive to tell me how that went..."
When you show me a cut/scrape/puncture wound/something impaled in your hand and ask "what should I do?" and I tell you to seek medical attention immediately, don't whine and ask me if there's just some (i can only assume magical) cream you can put on it. I know that you know that you should see a doctor; I also know that you think you can get some free medical advice and a [cheap] cure-all from your local friendly pharmacy, and I also know that if I don't tell you what you want to hear, you will throw caution to the wind and let your extremity fester until amputation.
And I'll be honest. Sometimes I give in. You'll do what you want anyway. So I'll send you on your merry way with a tube of Neosporin.
But don't say I didn't warn you. Shut your damn yap and listen. When you OD on Lortab (better known as Loritabs) or get pregnant while on Amoxicillin I'll be the one giving you a nice smile-n-wave next time you're in the drugstore.
Maybe you can name the baby after me.
Friday, November 16, 2007
Are we speaking the same language?
I wonder this often during my workday. The biggest problem being I don't work in a non-English speaking area (kinda). The people in my 'hood speak "English," but the words are severely misplaced. It's sort of like communicating with a schizophrenic on acid. I've never done this per say, but I can imagine it's similar to my everyday struggles.
Case in point: A cute lady comes to the counter. When I say "cute" I mean morbidly obese with a noticeable five o'clock shadow. Yes, I'm being ironic; no, I'm not a chubby, bearded lady chaser. She comes up to me with an empty rx vial (concealed in her fat little hoof) and spews: "Could this be making me feel like I am?" She was quite nervous and agitated. Where to begin?
My mind said:
What the..? Why is your beard thicker than mine? How many calories does it take to be thaaat fat?(she was a 4X4 - 4 feet high, 4 feet wide) What are you holding? What the...? How did you escape from the carnival? God she's hideous, I think I just threw up in my mouth a little...
But my response was: "What?"
Fat Lady w/ Beard: "I've been having jags of fits lately.!..!!"
Me (in head): What the fuck is a jag of a fit?!?
Me: "Okkaaay...."
FLw/B: "Could it be this?" (speaking of nothing in particular)
Me (in head): What the fuck is a jag.......
Me: "What? ..... What are you pertaining (word to big) to?
FLw/B: "Huh?"
Me (in head): Fuck me, where do they keep finding them and why do they keep coming to me?
FLw/B: "Could it be this....?"
This went on for about 10 minutes. She finally revealed her vial and was asking if her BP med was making her crazy. Life had already done it's fair share I'm afraid. After much deliberation, I assured her that her BP med was not the culprit and gave her some suggestions which she appeared to ignore. She came back the next day with scripts for anxiety. I couldn't believe she actually sought the help I advised! What's the moral of the story, you ask? I have no idea and I still don't know what a "jag of a fit" is. I doubt I ever will - neigh, I don't want to know. Just another day in pharmacy paradise.
Case in point: A cute lady comes to the counter. When I say "cute" I mean morbidly obese with a noticeable five o'clock shadow. Yes, I'm being ironic; no, I'm not a chubby, bearded lady chaser. She comes up to me with an empty rx vial (concealed in her fat little hoof) and spews: "Could this be making me feel like I am?" She was quite nervous and agitated. Where to begin?
My mind said:
What the..? Why is your beard thicker than mine? How many calories does it take to be thaaat fat?(she was a 4X4 - 4 feet high, 4 feet wide) What are you holding? What the...? How did you escape from the carnival? God she's hideous, I think I just threw up in my mouth a little...
But my response was: "What?"
Fat Lady w/ Beard: "I've been having jags of fits lately.!..!!"
Me (in head): What the fuck is a jag of a fit?!?
Me: "Okkaaay...."
FLw/B: "Could it be this?" (speaking of nothing in particular)
Me (in head): What the fuck is a jag.......
Me: "What? ..... What are you pertaining (word to big) to?
FLw/B: "Huh?"
Me (in head): Fuck me, where do they keep finding them and why do they keep coming to me?
FLw/B: "Could it be this....?"
This went on for about 10 minutes. She finally revealed her vial and was asking if her BP med was making her crazy. Life had already done it's fair share I'm afraid. After much deliberation, I assured her that her BP med was not the culprit and gave her some suggestions which she appeared to ignore. She came back the next day with scripts for anxiety. I couldn't believe she actually sought the help I advised! What's the moral of the story, you ask? I have no idea and I still don't know what a "jag of a fit" is. I doubt I ever will - neigh, I don't want to know. Just another day in pharmacy paradise.
Ask your doctor about......
I feel this pretty much sums up every douchebag commercial that is on TV today. Enough is enough....I'm talking to you Lipitor(TM), Veramyst(TM), and viiivvvaaaa Viagra(TM). Fuck off.
Love,
Phrustrated Pharmacist
Sunday, November 11, 2007
What's this game called? I WIN
I'm going to save my ADD/ADHD rant for another time, as I am exhausted, but I saw a nice article I need to post here.
IN YOUR FUCKING FACE ADHD BITCHES
This article will make more sense when I post my agonizing rant about the "disorder," but for now, it's really enough to send me into a calm slumber with the words "I told ya so" echoing in my brain. I love being right.
What? My favorite quote?
"I think that we exaggerated the beneficial impact of medication..." -- W. Pelham, University at Buffalo
IN YOUR FUCKING FACE ADHD BITCHES
This article will make more sense when I post my agonizing rant about the "disorder," but for now, it's really enough to send me into a calm slumber with the words "I told ya so" echoing in my brain. I love being right.
What? My favorite quote?
"I think that we exaggerated the beneficial impact of medication..." -- W. Pelham, University at Buffalo
No, I'm not joking
Although sometimes I wish I was. This story is straight out of the scary-but-true question files:
Friday, about 3pm: I receive a call from a male customer asking letting me know that he had lost(?) a sheet to his patient information leaflet for the prescription cream he had picked up the other day. Well, he explained, he was reading it and he had a question.
"Why does it say not to put cream in your nose or mouth?" Okay, buddy, I'll play your game. "Because topical medications are not to be absorbed internally, and putting the cream in those places would..." yadda yadda some brainy bullshit that I kept rambling off because I was not prepared to answer a question pertaining to eating a topical prescription cream. So I ask the man if he had gotten some in his nose/mouth (what? why else would he ask?) and he replies "oh no, no, no I'm using it on my groin......." And I'll pause here for the moment of silence before the riptide comes and sends my body and brain flying in all directions.
"But I got some cream in the tip of my penis and now it's burning."
There. There it is, folks. The tone had been set for the long weekend I was going to have.
I know the cream is an antifungal, but for the love of everything holy how the FUCK did it get IN your penis?!? What in god's name were you doing slathering that shit on the head of your penis in the first place?? WHAT THE FUCK KIND OF FUNGUS...?!
and that's where my brain went on strike and said "I've had enough of this shit for one day" and turned itself off until I went home that night.
The rest of the weekend, while being infused with the usual smattering of idiots (most of whom are now in the "donut hole" and extremely lost and belligerent) pales in comparison to that gem.
Friday, about 3pm: I receive a call from a male customer asking letting me know that he had lost(?) a sheet to his patient information leaflet for the prescription cream he had picked up the other day. Well, he explained, he was reading it and he had a question.
"Why does it say not to put cream in your nose or mouth?" Okay, buddy, I'll play your game. "Because topical medications are not to be absorbed internally, and putting the cream in those places would..." yadda yadda some brainy bullshit that I kept rambling off because I was not prepared to answer a question pertaining to eating a topical prescription cream. So I ask the man if he had gotten some in his nose/mouth (what? why else would he ask?) and he replies "oh no, no, no I'm using it on my groin......." And I'll pause here for the moment of silence before the riptide comes and sends my body and brain flying in all directions.
"But I got some cream in the tip of my penis and now it's burning."
There. There it is, folks. The tone had been set for the long weekend I was going to have.
I know the cream is an antifungal, but for the love of everything holy how the FUCK did it get IN your penis?!? What in god's name were you doing slathering that shit on the head of your penis in the first place?? WHAT THE FUCK KIND OF FUNGUS...?!
and that's where my brain went on strike and said "I've had enough of this shit for one day" and turned itself off until I went home that night.
The rest of the weekend, while being infused with the usual smattering of idiots (most of whom are now in the "donut hole" and extremely lost and belligerent) pales in comparison to that gem.
Tuesday, November 6, 2007
Stick with the habit, it's probably cheaper
So, unlike my fearless pharmacy friend Phrusterated (hot hot alliteration points) the crappiest part of my day was at approximately 8:55pm. A man comes jogging into my pharmacy with a kid in tow (whom he tells to go "SIT DOWN!") and says to me: "ohthankgodyou'restillopenireallyneedaprescripiton!" uhh...what. Since he is at the pick-up window, under the giant sign that says "PICK-UP" I ask what his name is, and he replies "ohnononoihavethisscripti'mdroppingoffineedrightnow...." so gritting my teeth i usher him over to my drop-off window and he shoves a script in my face and demands that we fill this now and my other pharmacy had a problem with it because its 4, er, I mean 3 days early that's okay I can still get it right? Oh silly, silly man.
First, as if the rotting teeth and the cracked-out speech impediment wasn't enough, the script for Suboxone was really just the icing on the cake. My friend Phrusterated doesn't even carry this, whereas I dispense probably a good 100 on any given week.
If you're wondering whether I filled it, the answer is, of course, NO. Your other pharmacy wouldn't fill it for you because of aforementioned early-ness, why the fuck would I? I know, the law states blahdy blahdy blahdy blah go fuck yourself. Our policy is to the day, or 1 day early if we really like you. I don't know why the guy even told me it was early, because I would have most likely filled it, seeing as it would have been cash and I would have had no idea that he was getting this from somewhere else.
So I write on the prescription "4 days early 11/06/07" while he's screaming "DON'TWRITEONTHATI'LLSUEYOUWHYAREYOUPEOPLESOGODDAMNUPTIGHTJESUS" and send him on his merry way with his 4-year-old child. Just the kind of story to make you warm and fuzzy inside. Poor kid, god help him.
First, as if the rotting teeth and the cracked-out speech impediment wasn't enough, the script for Suboxone was really just the icing on the cake. My friend Phrusterated doesn't even carry this, whereas I dispense probably a good 100 on any given week.
If you're wondering whether I filled it, the answer is, of course, NO. Your other pharmacy wouldn't fill it for you because of aforementioned early-ness, why the fuck would I? I know, the law states blahdy blahdy blahdy blah go fuck yourself. Our policy is to the day, or 1 day early if we really like you. I don't know why the guy even told me it was early, because I would have most likely filled it, seeing as it would have been cash and I would have had no idea that he was getting this from somewhere else.
So I write on the prescription "4 days early 11/06/07" while he's screaming "DON'TWRITEONTHATI'LLSUEYOUWHYAREYOUPEOPLESOGODDAMNUPTIGHTJESUS" and send him on his merry way with his 4-year-old child. Just the kind of story to make you warm and fuzzy inside. Poor kid, god help him.
Do I look like I care?
What the hell is wrong with people? I wasn't even open today and this old VA guy somehow gets in the building and creeps to my consultation window. He proceeds to ask me how "the AAA" can save him money. What the fuck? Almost said it, but bit my tongue. Look, I don't mean to be insensitive, but it's 8:55 and I have no coffee in me. This is how I know my day is going to be a piece of shit. Oh, he didn't just want to know the ins and outs of "the AAA" (he kept saying THE AAA, OK I fucking get it), but rather how much he'd save. Are you fo' real yo? The whole day was just one should-be-wearing-a-helmet person after the other with inane questions and chatter. Go the fuck away. Seriously. There is no break in the conversation (read: retard pestering me without taking breaths - how do they do that?) to break away. How come every time I WANT the phone to ring it's silent? I would've taken a tard trade-off - that is a phone tard for the live tard.
I liken these folks (and I'm being generous) to the time I first tried to set up a Japanese beetle trap. In this case, I was the helmet wearer. Ever do this? If you have an infestation of the jbs, it's really disconcerting. Sit on your deck? No, buzz, buzz, buzz, ow! - you little fuck...I went to the hardware store, plunked down my 4 bucks and had my repellent. This is a very rudimentary system at best. After setting up the bag thingee I read: open the "bait" and insert in slot A-B, or some shit. Well, needless to say, don't open the bait 15 feet from the infested tree; this stuff really works. I am now swimming in jbs trying not to die. How does this apply, you ask?
Well, I, the pharmacist am the "bait" and the people are the jbs. Once I open, they swarm and inundate me with stupidity, much like the jbs trying to fuck the wax bait or whatever they do to it. I like my job and all, but some days there's just no time to do what's necessary to survive. So, if you have a stupid question: remember that there are no stupid questions; just stupid people who ask questions. I will look at you like you are indeed a differential equation and you will wonder what a diffy q is - nobody's a winner. Here's a few things I don't know:
I liken these folks (and I'm being generous) to the time I first tried to set up a Japanese beetle trap. In this case, I was the helmet wearer. Ever do this? If you have an infestation of the jbs, it's really disconcerting. Sit on your deck? No, buzz, buzz, buzz, ow! - you little fuck...I went to the hardware store, plunked down my 4 bucks and had my repellent. This is a very rudimentary system at best. After setting up the bag thingee I read: open the "bait" and insert in slot A-B, or some shit. Well, needless to say, don't open the bait 15 feet from the infested tree; this stuff really works. I am now swimming in jbs trying not to die. How does this apply, you ask?
Well, I, the pharmacist am the "bait" and the people are the jbs. Once I open, they swarm and inundate me with stupidity, much like the jbs trying to fuck the wax bait or whatever they do to it. I like my job and all, but some days there's just no time to do what's necessary to survive. So, if you have a stupid question: remember that there are no stupid questions; just stupid people who ask questions. I will look at you like you are indeed a differential equation and you will wonder what a diffy q is - nobody's a winner. Here's a few things I don't know:
- How that "Medicare drug thing works"
- The reimbursement/donut hole cutoff for your plan you don't have yet
- How long it will take you to reach that donut thingy (on the plan you're thinking of getting)
- What you take or if "they" cover 90 days worth
- If "they're" formulary (my words not yours) covers your shit
- Why your doctor wants "genetics" for you (because you lack basic human ones prolly)
- If the "geneteric" is as good as the brand
- If the "genteric brand" (WTF?) is as good as the generic (actual question)
- Why medicare "has it out for you"
- Why you can't just walk 30 minutes a day and leave me to my devices
Hope this clears up the confusion. I'm not your mom, don't ask me questions that semi-responsible adults should be able to answer. If you can't, then call the proper people - leave me alone (I have drug shit to do - remember?).
Sunday, November 4, 2007
Let's talk about sex ba-by, let's talk about pharm-a-cy
Damn you Salt 'n' Pepa for making sex a liberating topic of discussion. Because of this 1987 'jam,' people now come to pharmacies for sexual aids. Not just any people, mind you, but the great unwashed. Perhaps Christina Aguilera's "Diiiiiirty" (or something retarded like that) inspired these dirtbags to venture down to the ol' pharmacy to pick up some condoms and lube. Grrreaaat.
True story (it has to be): A man approaches the "consultation" area of the pharmacy a little standoffishly. He is holding no products, so I assume he's got a routine question - where's the Claritin, do you carry distilled water (why do so many people need that shit?), do you carry stiptic pencils, etc. Nope, I couldn't be so lucky. The man utters "what's the best lube for anal?" Now, the first thing I think of when I hear 'anal' is "that's where poopy comes from." I find it to be a disgusting act personally, but hey, to each his own. Far be it from me to stop a loving couple from hittin' ye ole Hershey highway (shudder). What the man says next will haunt me for the rest of my life: "Should HE always wear a condom?" My mind started shouting "I need an adult, I need an adult," but that adult was me. My response was "a....ah....uh...yes, yes, of course, every time." "What if we're" "Yes!" I interrupted, not wanting any more details. He kept asking me which was best so I finally relented and told him they're all about the same, but don't use any of the heating ones (ya know the massage ones that get stolen). How I said this with a straight face is beyond me, but he deserved that answer. I know I'm supposed to be professional in all sitches, but c'mon - you don't ambush someone like that. At the very least he should have said something like "My extremely gay partner and I like to be ass pirates" which would at least put me in a frame of mind to help. Not this guy. I just hope I don't end up a throw pillow on his couch someday.
The next sex tale is less stomach churning. A late teens to early 20's girl and her friend come to the aforementioned window with a gaggle of condoms. My young female technician went to help them, but upon seeing the plethora of prophylactics promptly said "it's fer you..." I had no idea the young ladies had our family planning rack in the consultation window, so when I went over I was a bit taken back. "Big night planned?" I quipped. She laughed and said "No, not exactly." "How can I help?" I questioned gingerly. "Well, my boyfriend says these don't fit him," she said pointing to a box of 'magnum' condoms. "Congratulations!" I said sarcastically. She once again chuckled and asked what to do. What do I say in this situation? For all intents and purposes, these things could fit a horse's cock, let alone what this guy was claiming to be packing. "Are you sure they don't fit?" I asked. She said "Well, he says it 'cuts off his circulation' when he wears it." This guy is good. Not only has he almost convinced this dimwit to ride bareback, he's also convinced her his penis is big enough to fit in a hot air balloon. She left the counter as I had no real advice for her. I didn't want the boyfriend to come back and beat me with is freakishly large penis (yeah, whatever) for calling him a liar. Some problems don't involve a pharmacist's help - I'd say this constitutes as one of those scenarios. Just blow him or something and leave me alone. At least she left all the condoms there.
Lastly, we carry a product called "Mandelay." You do the math. Luckily, I've had no questions on the product, but even the dumbest of premature ejaculators can figure this one out. Mandelay. It gets more funny every time I see it or hear it.
Thank God we don't carry dildos. I'm sure it's just a matter of time.
True story (it has to be): A man approaches the "consultation" area of the pharmacy a little standoffishly. He is holding no products, so I assume he's got a routine question - where's the Claritin, do you carry distilled water (why do so many people need that shit?), do you carry stiptic pencils, etc. Nope, I couldn't be so lucky. The man utters "what's the best lube for anal?" Now, the first thing I think of when I hear 'anal' is "that's where poopy comes from." I find it to be a disgusting act personally, but hey, to each his own. Far be it from me to stop a loving couple from hittin' ye ole Hershey highway (shudder). What the man says next will haunt me for the rest of my life: "Should HE always wear a condom?" My mind started shouting "I need an adult, I need an adult," but that adult was me. My response was "a....ah....uh...yes, yes, of course, every time." "What if we're" "Yes!" I interrupted, not wanting any more details. He kept asking me which was best so I finally relented and told him they're all about the same, but don't use any of the heating ones (ya know the massage ones that get stolen). How I said this with a straight face is beyond me, but he deserved that answer. I know I'm supposed to be professional in all sitches, but c'mon - you don't ambush someone like that. At the very least he should have said something like "My extremely gay partner and I like to be ass pirates" which would at least put me in a frame of mind to help. Not this guy. I just hope I don't end up a throw pillow on his couch someday.
The next sex tale is less stomach churning. A late teens to early 20's girl and her friend come to the aforementioned window with a gaggle of condoms. My young female technician went to help them, but upon seeing the plethora of prophylactics promptly said "it's fer you..." I had no idea the young ladies had our family planning rack in the consultation window, so when I went over I was a bit taken back. "Big night planned?" I quipped. She laughed and said "No, not exactly." "How can I help?" I questioned gingerly. "Well, my boyfriend says these don't fit him," she said pointing to a box of 'magnum' condoms. "Congratulations!" I said sarcastically. She once again chuckled and asked what to do. What do I say in this situation? For all intents and purposes, these things could fit a horse's cock, let alone what this guy was claiming to be packing. "Are you sure they don't fit?" I asked. She said "Well, he says it 'cuts off his circulation' when he wears it." This guy is good. Not only has he almost convinced this dimwit to ride bareback, he's also convinced her his penis is big enough to fit in a hot air balloon. She left the counter as I had no real advice for her. I didn't want the boyfriend to come back and beat me with is freakishly large penis (yeah, whatever) for calling him a liar. Some problems don't involve a pharmacist's help - I'd say this constitutes as one of those scenarios. Just blow him or something and leave me alone. At least she left all the condoms there.
Lastly, we carry a product called "Mandelay." You do the math. Luckily, I've had no questions on the product, but even the dumbest of premature ejaculators can figure this one out. Mandelay. It gets more funny every time I see it or hear it.
Thank God we don't carry dildos. I'm sure it's just a matter of time.
Tuesday, October 30, 2007
I thought money was the root of all evil....
I was once again sorrily mistaken. As it turns out, Lortab (Vicodin, Norco, Lorcet, Hydrocodone/APAP, which ever you prefer) is actually the real devil's semen. Sorry I've been lax on my postings, I know my readers (both of ya) are like: "where's the PP?" Well, I'm still here and here I go. As Cal said in "The Forty Year Old Virgin," "I had a weekend." Mine was not one of bestiality sex shows, but one of Lortab mania. Why is this magic bean such a driving force in America today? Hydrocodone/APAP is the #1 prescribed drug in America and is undoubtedly (although there is no data to track it) the most abused drug in America. Move over nicotine, marijuana and ecstasy. Sorry crack, you had your time in the sun. Lortab is the shit now. Let's recant on my weekend, shall we:
Saturday, October 27, 2007: A ragged wench in a beat up sweatshirt presents me with a prescription for...... ..... .... ...yes, Lortab (7.5 of course). She states she's dropping it off for her "daughter" who has no insurance (red flag) and is not in our computer (crimson flag). Thankfully, she's got to go grocery shopping while I fill her prescription. Well, I start to fill said prescription when I stumble upon the directions: Sig: 1 Q H PRN. For those who aren't pharmacists, fluent Latin speakers or drug addicts, this means "Take one tablet every hour as needed. Needless to say, by hour 4 or 5 her liver would resemble something that looks like chum. I then (diligently) phone the dentist (ahem) to confirm the prescription. Her reply is "I never write for Lortab." Did I mention that the dentist was at a convention on the day the prescription was written? The dentist was dumbfounded. "I don't know what to do, I feel so, so, so.....violated." "Uh, I'll call the police," with a what-the-fuck-are-you-retarded flint in my voice. "Oh, yeah.....that's a good idea,"(no shit) blundered the dentist (more on her in a skoch). I call the police and then they send a squad car or seven to our parking lot. The aforementioned scumdouche comes back in the drive-thru (fucking thing) and my tech alerts me. I call the dispatch and they tell me they're on it. They were not lying to me folks. I waltzed over to stall her and there was a cop in front of her car yelling "TURN OFF THE CAR MA'AM!" This was the only time the drive-thru seemed useful to me. It turned into a giant screen real life episode of COPS. Thankfully, she did have her shirt on. So I watched as they "questioned" her and then slapped on the cuffs and dragged her sorry ass to the clink. Have fun tossing salads and/or finger-banging Bubbette, you greedy addict bitch. It turns out the statutes have changed, and prescription forgery is now a class D felony (7-10 years in the hole). I hope the attempt at 30 Lortab was worth it - I hear those orange jumpsuits give one crotchrot. What's the moral of the story? Don't shit where I eat or I will throw it back at you and hit you in the mouth with it at such a great velocity that you end up in the hoosegow for 7-10 years. I wonder if Lortab (Lor-a-tab) has replaced cigarettes as currency in prison - whoops, she doesn't have any (haha).
As for the dentist, I wouldn't let this special Olympian (no offense) wipe my ass let alone drill holes in my teeth. There should be some sort of common sense evaluation process for professionals whom deal with drilling holes in things. She told me she kept her (waiting to be stolen) script pads layin' around - might wanna cut back on that, I have important drug shit to take care of without having to let you outside to piss. Fuck Lortab and fuck dentists - they're both overrated.
Saturday, October 27, 2007: A ragged wench in a beat up sweatshirt presents me with a prescription for...... ..... .... ...yes, Lortab (7.5 of course). She states she's dropping it off for her "daughter" who has no insurance (red flag) and is not in our computer (crimson flag). Thankfully, she's got to go grocery shopping while I fill her prescription. Well, I start to fill said prescription when I stumble upon the directions: Sig: 1 Q H PRN. For those who aren't pharmacists, fluent Latin speakers or drug addicts, this means "Take one tablet every hour as needed. Needless to say, by hour 4 or 5 her liver would resemble something that looks like chum. I then (diligently) phone the dentist (ahem) to confirm the prescription. Her reply is "I never write for Lortab." Did I mention that the dentist was at a convention on the day the prescription was written? The dentist was dumbfounded. "I don't know what to do, I feel so, so, so.....violated." "Uh, I'll call the police," with a what-the-fuck-are-you-retarded flint in my voice. "Oh, yeah.....that's a good idea,"(no shit) blundered the dentist (more on her in a skoch). I call the police and then they send a squad car or seven to our parking lot. The aforementioned scumdouche comes back in the drive-thru (fucking thing) and my tech alerts me. I call the dispatch and they tell me they're on it. They were not lying to me folks. I waltzed over to stall her and there was a cop in front of her car yelling "TURN OFF THE CAR MA'AM!" This was the only time the drive-thru seemed useful to me. It turned into a giant screen real life episode of COPS. Thankfully, she did have her shirt on. So I watched as they "questioned" her and then slapped on the cuffs and dragged her sorry ass to the clink. Have fun tossing salads and/or finger-banging Bubbette, you greedy addict bitch. It turns out the statutes have changed, and prescription forgery is now a class D felony (7-10 years in the hole). I hope the attempt at 30 Lortab was worth it - I hear those orange jumpsuits give one crotchrot. What's the moral of the story? Don't shit where I eat or I will throw it back at you and hit you in the mouth with it at such a great velocity that you end up in the hoosegow for 7-10 years. I wonder if Lortab (Lor-a-tab) has replaced cigarettes as currency in prison - whoops, she doesn't have any (haha).
As for the dentist, I wouldn't let this special Olympian (no offense) wipe my ass let alone drill holes in my teeth. There should be some sort of common sense evaluation process for professionals whom deal with drilling holes in things. She told me she kept her (waiting to be stolen) script pads layin' around - might wanna cut back on that, I have important drug shit to take care of without having to let you outside to piss. Fuck Lortab and fuck dentists - they're both overrated.
Sunday, October 28, 2007
Rite Aid: Sundries, Hay and Feed and Other Stories
Before I go into the complete and utter stupidity that was this weekend, I'd like to say a few things about grocery shopping at a drugstore.
First, I believe the local drugstore should be used solely for just picking up random items like "oh, I need some bandaids" or "i need a new lipliner." Why we even have carts is beyond me. Never, ever in my life, have I even THOUGHT about getting up on a Sunday morning, going to Rite Aid/Walgreens/CVS, grabbing a cart and going shopping for the week. And for some odd reason, if they also have a prescription to pick up, they wait 'til they have a cart-full of useless shit and wander over to my counter and do one of 3 annoying things: A)go to the pick up, put all the shit on my counter and THEN say "oh its okay that I ring this up here right?" or B)go up to the DROPOFF counter with NO REGISTER and put all your shit on my counter and ask to be rung up or C) ask me to ring you up for said useless shit when you are not picking up a prescription.
Go away.
I had a woman come up to me Saturday and flash me a new AARP medicare card and say: "Can you tell me what my insurance entails?" In the now-famous phrase often employed by my fellow angry sidekick Phrustered..."uh,...what?"
Apparently this woman had received a phone call/letter/death threat telling her that she should sign up for AARP medicare D. So, instead of further inquiring about the plan to AARP/coming to our store and picking up a handy dandy medicare D "guide to open enrollment" packet she signs up for this AARP medicare and DROPS HER UNIVERA COVERAGE WITHOUT KNOWING ANYTHING ABOUT THE AARP PLAN. And then comes into her friendly pharmacy and is appalled that WE don't know anything about HER plan, and that blindly signing up for insurance and dropping your current coverage is not only a bad decision, it means you're fucking retarded.
Then Saturday night about, oh, 7:55pm a woman comes in and says her mother was just discharged from the hospital and the doctor had faxed over some prescriptions. Um, no. Her primary had faxed over 2 the previous day...only 2 of what should have been half a dozen new discharge meds. I explained this. The ones we had were lasix and Vitron-C. And then for the next 5 minutes she proceeded to ask such questions as "and there's no plavix?" no, just the lasix and the vitron. "and there's no coreg?" no, just the lasix and the vitron. "well what about the protonix?" no, just the lasix and the vitron. "are you sure?" at this point what I SHOULD have done was fly over the counter and beat her with my shoe. But I didn't. There's always next time.
Today I had a man tell me that he invented the Take-A-Penny-Leave-A-Penny tray. It was during his stint in California (you know, when it wasn't burning) and the local feed-bag joint had a pancake breakfast for $2.03. I'm sure you can see where this is going.
I had a woman call Actonel "carboninate." not even "actonel carboninate" or anything like that. I wonder where people learn such big words.
Those are all the fun tales I can think of at the moment. What a long two days.
First, I believe the local drugstore should be used solely for just picking up random items like "oh, I need some bandaids" or "i need a new lipliner." Why we even have carts is beyond me. Never, ever in my life, have I even THOUGHT about getting up on a Sunday morning, going to Rite Aid/Walgreens/CVS, grabbing a cart and going shopping for the week. And for some odd reason, if they also have a prescription to pick up, they wait 'til they have a cart-full of useless shit and wander over to my counter and do one of 3 annoying things: A)go to the pick up, put all the shit on my counter and THEN say "oh its okay that I ring this up here right?" or B)go up to the DROPOFF counter with NO REGISTER and put all your shit on my counter and ask to be rung up or C) ask me to ring you up for said useless shit when you are not picking up a prescription.
Go away.
I had a woman come up to me Saturday and flash me a new AARP medicare card and say: "Can you tell me what my insurance entails?" In the now-famous phrase often employed by my fellow angry sidekick Phrustered..."uh,...what?"
Apparently this woman had received a phone call/letter/death threat telling her that she should sign up for AARP medicare D. So, instead of further inquiring about the plan to AARP/coming to our store and picking up a handy dandy medicare D "guide to open enrollment" packet she signs up for this AARP medicare and DROPS HER UNIVERA COVERAGE WITHOUT KNOWING ANYTHING ABOUT THE AARP PLAN. And then comes into her friendly pharmacy and is appalled that WE don't know anything about HER plan, and that blindly signing up for insurance and dropping your current coverage is not only a bad decision, it means you're fucking retarded.
Then Saturday night about, oh, 7:55pm a woman comes in and says her mother was just discharged from the hospital and the doctor had faxed over some prescriptions. Um, no. Her primary had faxed over 2 the previous day...only 2 of what should have been half a dozen new discharge meds. I explained this. The ones we had were lasix and Vitron-C. And then for the next 5 minutes she proceeded to ask such questions as "and there's no plavix?" no, just the lasix and the vitron. "and there's no coreg?" no, just the lasix and the vitron. "well what about the protonix?" no, just the lasix and the vitron. "are you sure?" at this point what I SHOULD have done was fly over the counter and beat her with my shoe. But I didn't. There's always next time.
Today I had a man tell me that he invented the Take-A-Penny-Leave-A-Penny tray. It was during his stint in California (you know, when it wasn't burning) and the local feed-bag joint had a pancake breakfast for $2.03. I'm sure you can see where this is going.
I had a woman call Actonel "carboninate." not even "actonel carboninate" or anything like that. I wonder where people learn such big words.
Those are all the fun tales I can think of at the moment. What a long two days.
Saturday, October 27, 2007
Thursday, October 25, 2007
Stupid is as stupid does
Forrest Gump made this saying famous, but I'm forced to live it every work day. Here's some low lights from today's "action:"
The day starts off with a bang. I am forced to speak with a man wearing a toupee (hardly noticeable) whom asks me how big the glucosamine tablets are inside of the opaque bottle he's holding. How the fuck am I to know how big they are? I couldn't stop staring at his bird's nest perched atop is melon - I mean this thing was terrible. It was "slightly" askew, making it look somehow more ridiculous. I took pity on the disillusioned man. I made a gesture with my hand (no, not that) showing him my best guess as to the size of the tablets. He mumbled something about not being able to swallow and traipsed off. Whatever.
The stupidity flood gates then opened and a deluge ensued. I man inquiring about a cure for ringing in the ears was the next batter. I told him there was/is no known cause or cure for ringing in the ears (unless there was an aspirin overdose - no such luck). He then tells me I'm wrong because he saw this product on "the TV" stating it "cured" ringing ears. I told him if it was on "the TV" I must be mistaken and he should try said product. As P.T. Barnum once said, "It's morally wrong to let a sucker keep his money."
A non-English speaking medical resident then calls for a person's entire med profile (get fucked). I inform her (cordially) that I was quite busy and would call her back in about 5 minutes. I guess this was not good enough. Her attending doctor calls back in 30 seconds and wants to know if the same patient is using some cream. I told him I just told doctor-no-speak-a-da-English I was going to call back. He said he knew nothing of the sort. I then informed him his resident should work on her communication skills (or lack thereof). At least he laughed.
I got a fax from the "fax police." You know when you get those solicitations via fax? Well, the "fax police" will fuck them up but good. Just fax the unwanted solicitations to them and they will "take care of 'em." What in God's name......I couldn't stand the irony. The "fax police." This is one of the funniest things ever - but I wanted to beat them with my fax machine.
I call a doctor's office (all fucking day) and get immediately placed on hold. Standard protocol, right? It seemed so until the radio hold music was "playing today's best country." The twat nurse couldn't come back to the phone fast enough. I have a few things in life that make me want to end mine - country music is one of these things. I have to then listen to some retard country "star" for 4 minutes. Not only were these the longest 4 minutes of my life, but 4 minutes I will never get back and never forget. Shoot me now.
Wait, it gets better. By better, I of course mean worse. I'm counselling a wife on her hubby's cholesterol med dose increase, telling her vital info. I get about 3/4 of the way through and she mouths "I'm a nurse." Not only was she a nurse, but a fat one at that. Not only was she a fat nurse, but she was sedentary in my drive-thru. Why let me go on for about a minute? I was telling her things I know she had no clue about. I think she was embarrassed and didn't want me to continue. I walked away without so much as a "goodbye" or "you take care now." Man, fuck that bitch and her "nursing" degree (probably a LPN). Double whatever.
Two seconds later a voice cries out "you should have a bell!" Oh no she di'in't, yo. I replied "No, we shouldn't have one, because we'd probably throw it (at you)." "Were you waiting long?," I queried. "No, not that long," uttered the fool. "Well, we're trying the best we can and we appreciate your patience," I stated quite sarcastically. Fuck you lady, I win.
Lastly, I called a doctor's office (which is eternally busy). I got sick of the busy signal and figured out their private number (I know - pretty cool). A twat nurse answers at first politely, but after telling her "Hi this is phrustrated pharmacist from blah blah pharmacy," her tone soured completely. She seemed to be speaking in a "how the fuck did YOU get this number" tone of voice. I realize I'm doomed but trudge on. I was calling for a patient (proactively, mind you) whom had a brand-name drug authorized yesterday for only half a month - but the same 20$ copay. I knew damn well she would be barking, so I attempt to rectify the sitch. I ask verrrry politely for them to authorize a whole month so she gets the most for her hard-earned money. Nope. The super twatty nurse says: "No. Dr. Mcbuttfuck is very adamant the people only get enough until they make an appointment. They always miss their appointments when we do that." My tea kettle was now whistling - there's only so much a man can take. I laid into her. "There is no reason to scold me, I'm only looking out for everyone's best interests," I said stingingly. "Speaking to me like a fourth grader doesn't accomplish anything," I added. Twatty McTwatterson immediately got defensive and said it was the doctor's policy, not hers. What the fuck ever. I told her that I would have the patient speak with Dr. McButtfuck if she had a problem with the sitch and hung up. Can you help a brother out?
Well, that's all I wrote down, just another day in the life for the ol' PP. Until next time.
The day starts off with a bang. I am forced to speak with a man wearing a toupee (hardly noticeable) whom asks me how big the glucosamine tablets are inside of the opaque bottle he's holding. How the fuck am I to know how big they are? I couldn't stop staring at his bird's nest perched atop is melon - I mean this thing was terrible. It was "slightly" askew, making it look somehow more ridiculous. I took pity on the disillusioned man. I made a gesture with my hand (no, not that) showing him my best guess as to the size of the tablets. He mumbled something about not being able to swallow and traipsed off. Whatever.
The stupidity flood gates then opened and a deluge ensued. I man inquiring about a cure for ringing in the ears was the next batter. I told him there was/is no known cause or cure for ringing in the ears (unless there was an aspirin overdose - no such luck). He then tells me I'm wrong because he saw this product on "the TV" stating it "cured" ringing ears. I told him if it was on "the TV" I must be mistaken and he should try said product. As P.T. Barnum once said, "It's morally wrong to let a sucker keep his money."
A non-English speaking medical resident then calls for a person's entire med profile (get fucked). I inform her (cordially) that I was quite busy and would call her back in about 5 minutes. I guess this was not good enough. Her attending doctor calls back in 30 seconds and wants to know if the same patient is using some cream. I told him I just told doctor-no-speak-a-da-English I was going to call back. He said he knew nothing of the sort. I then informed him his resident should work on her communication skills (or lack thereof). At least he laughed.
I got a fax from the "fax police." You know when you get those solicitations via fax? Well, the "fax police" will fuck them up but good. Just fax the unwanted solicitations to them and they will "take care of 'em." What in God's name......I couldn't stand the irony. The "fax police." This is one of the funniest things ever - but I wanted to beat them with my fax machine.
I call a doctor's office (all fucking day) and get immediately placed on hold. Standard protocol, right? It seemed so until the radio hold music was "playing today's best country." The twat nurse couldn't come back to the phone fast enough. I have a few things in life that make me want to end mine - country music is one of these things. I have to then listen to some retard country "star" for 4 minutes. Not only were these the longest 4 minutes of my life, but 4 minutes I will never get back and never forget. Shoot me now.
Wait, it gets better. By better, I of course mean worse. I'm counselling a wife on her hubby's cholesterol med dose increase, telling her vital info. I get about 3/4 of the way through and she mouths "I'm a nurse." Not only was she a nurse, but a fat one at that. Not only was she a fat nurse, but she was sedentary in my drive-thru. Why let me go on for about a minute? I was telling her things I know she had no clue about. I think she was embarrassed and didn't want me to continue. I walked away without so much as a "goodbye" or "you take care now." Man, fuck that bitch and her "nursing" degree (probably a LPN). Double whatever.
Two seconds later a voice cries out "you should have a bell!" Oh no she di'in't, yo. I replied "No, we shouldn't have one, because we'd probably throw it (at you)." "Were you waiting long?," I queried. "No, not that long," uttered the fool. "Well, we're trying the best we can and we appreciate your patience," I stated quite sarcastically. Fuck you lady, I win.
Lastly, I called a doctor's office (which is eternally busy). I got sick of the busy signal and figured out their private number (I know - pretty cool). A twat nurse answers at first politely, but after telling her "Hi this is phrustrated pharmacist from blah blah pharmacy," her tone soured completely. She seemed to be speaking in a "how the fuck did YOU get this number" tone of voice. I realize I'm doomed but trudge on. I was calling for a patient (proactively, mind you) whom had a brand-name drug authorized yesterday for only half a month - but the same 20$ copay. I knew damn well she would be barking, so I attempt to rectify the sitch. I ask verrrry politely for them to authorize a whole month so she gets the most for her hard-earned money. Nope. The super twatty nurse says: "No. Dr. Mcbuttfuck is very adamant the people only get enough until they make an appointment. They always miss their appointments when we do that." My tea kettle was now whistling - there's only so much a man can take. I laid into her. "There is no reason to scold me, I'm only looking out for everyone's best interests," I said stingingly. "Speaking to me like a fourth grader doesn't accomplish anything," I added. Twatty McTwatterson immediately got defensive and said it was the doctor's policy, not hers. What the fuck ever. I told her that I would have the patient speak with Dr. McButtfuck if she had a problem with the sitch and hung up. Can you help a brother out?
Well, that's all I wrote down, just another day in the life for the ol' PP. Until next time.
Friday, October 19, 2007
Wednesday, October 17, 2007
Why am I surrounded by twats?
Coming into today, I thought our flu shot clinic was going to be my early demise. Thankfully, I received a pleasant surprise. Nobody really bothered me; except the twat nurse running it. "We need chairs, we need another table, do you have a pen?" "Are you fucking serious," said my inner monologue. Who doesn't bring a pen? I'm glad she didn't ask me for extra flu vaccine. I wanted to strangle her with the latex tubing used to find veins on the customers.
Highlights:
The clinic started at 2 p.m. Old people must think we're in Maine or something because 2 p.m. became 1 p.m. "Are you giving the flu shots here young man?" I'm glad she didn't call me "sonny" or something more retarded. "No, the clinic is at 2 p.m., you're a tad bit early," I replied. "Okay, we'll wait in your chairs," mumbled the old shut-in. So this slack-jawed couple spent the next hour drooling and staring at my intern, making him very uncomfortable. "They're just staring at me like I'm gonna give them the shot," my intern squeamishly stated. I told him to just stare back. My manager, in infinite wisdom, set up the clinic right by my pick-up counter. The word cluster fuck comes close to the anarchy that ensued. There were fifty people (or so) crammed by my pick-up, some for flu shots, some for pick-up. We're still trying to sort out the bodies.
After the flu shot mania, I turned my attention to filling the plethora of scripts that avalanche me on a daily basis. While uncovering from the rubble, another twat made an appearance. Not just any twat, mind you, but a cocky medicaid twat in my drive-thru. Apparently, she called in her daughter's seizure medication this morning. As luck would have it she was "completely out" and we didn't have it in stock. I couldn't even find the request. Being the staunch citizen and professional that I am, I found it at another store located a mere 5-10 minutes away. Upon telling her that her daughter's medication would be obtainable tonight, I figured she would offer to come in the store and either kiss my feet or felate me. I was sadly mistaken. "What do you mean?," said the indigent twatilly. "I don't wanna go over there," squawked the bitch. I then explained to her that arguing with me would reduce the chances of her going to the store before closing. She then asks me when I would obtain the drug. I was dumbstruck. When I told her tomorrow afternoon, she informs me she'll just pick it up then. Oh fuck no, dude. I just wasted valuable time finding something you were too lazy to call in ahead of time so your demon spawn won't seize? Not on my watch (and dime not to mention). So I told her she best be steppin', and amazingly, she twatted over to the store that was "soooo faaar away." I won, yet I still had a twatty taste in my mouth. I hate that.
If you are offended by the word twat, don't be. It's just like calling a male a dick, but ladies don't have them, so we men had to come up with something.
Onward and upward.
Highlights:
The clinic started at 2 p.m. Old people must think we're in Maine or something because 2 p.m. became 1 p.m. "Are you giving the flu shots here young man?" I'm glad she didn't call me "sonny" or something more retarded. "No, the clinic is at 2 p.m., you're a tad bit early," I replied. "Okay, we'll wait in your chairs," mumbled the old shut-in. So this slack-jawed couple spent the next hour drooling and staring at my intern, making him very uncomfortable. "They're just staring at me like I'm gonna give them the shot," my intern squeamishly stated. I told him to just stare back. My manager, in infinite wisdom, set up the clinic right by my pick-up counter. The word cluster fuck comes close to the anarchy that ensued. There were fifty people (or so) crammed by my pick-up, some for flu shots, some for pick-up. We're still trying to sort out the bodies.
After the flu shot mania, I turned my attention to filling the plethora of scripts that avalanche me on a daily basis. While uncovering from the rubble, another twat made an appearance. Not just any twat, mind you, but a cocky medicaid twat in my drive-thru. Apparently, she called in her daughter's seizure medication this morning. As luck would have it she was "completely out" and we didn't have it in stock. I couldn't even find the request. Being the staunch citizen and professional that I am, I found it at another store located a mere 5-10 minutes away. Upon telling her that her daughter's medication would be obtainable tonight, I figured she would offer to come in the store and either kiss my feet or felate me. I was sadly mistaken. "What do you mean?," said the indigent twatilly. "I don't wanna go over there," squawked the bitch. I then explained to her that arguing with me would reduce the chances of her going to the store before closing. She then asks me when I would obtain the drug. I was dumbstruck. When I told her tomorrow afternoon, she informs me she'll just pick it up then. Oh fuck no, dude. I just wasted valuable time finding something you were too lazy to call in ahead of time so your demon spawn won't seize? Not on my watch (and dime not to mention). So I told her she best be steppin', and amazingly, she twatted over to the store that was "soooo faaar away." I won, yet I still had a twatty taste in my mouth. I hate that.
If you are offended by the word twat, don't be. It's just like calling a male a dick, but ladies don't have them, so we men had to come up with something.
Onward and upward.
Tuesday, October 16, 2007
Happy Halloween?
so, whilst browsing for a Halloween costume online tonight, I find this costume. yes, this is your pharmacist: Dr Anita Hardwon (clever). "Includes prescription pad, 2 prescription bottles, and latex gloves."
i wonder what they thought we use gloves for?
perhaps i should wear this to work on halloween. although i could just save the $60(!) and wear a white coat 2 sizes too small and throw a belt on with some 13-drams glued to it containing Rohypnol uh i mean Percocet uh wait....
i bet she's wearing open-toed shoes. for shame.
Monday, October 15, 2007
One of my customers should be employee of the month
I have a customer (patient/client, depending on your semantic preference) who comes to my store EVERY DAY. Let us call her "Sue." I have memorized her date of birth, address, doctors, physical image (which haunts me, not a "10") and entire drug profile. The scary thing is, I didn't want to. She appears in front of me EVERY TIME I work in prescription form and sometimes physically (in the drive thru, of course). Let it be known I have a Rainman-like memory, but it is almost impossible not to learn something about someone when seeing it on a semi-daily basis.
When I receive an oral order for her, I jokingly say to the dimwit calling in the rx(s): "you don't say." I then laugh like a giddy school girl after hanging up the phone. I will proceed to alert my staff of her daily arrival by saying "guess who?" In unison, the trained response is "Sue!?" Yep, every day.
I have thought about what it's like to be her. Imagine your day is waking up late, going to the doctor's office then going to the pharmacy. This is her sad reality. I felt bad for a nanosecond and then realized if my life turned into that, it would be time for some serious lifestyle modifications. You know, the ones we always theoretically recommend. Stop smoking (in my drive thru- wait, actually the waft of second-hand smoke is lovely sometimes), eat better, exercise, etc. I would do it - or would I? Sure my life expectancy may be cut drastically because of heart failure secondary to diabetes, but I wouldn't be working! I could get behind a program of:
1. Wake up late.
2. Eat delicious, fat laden breakfast.
3. Not showering
4. Being non compliant with meds
5. Lunch (Mickey-Ds anyone? I could get my McFlurry on...)
6. See 3 and 4.
7. Doctor's appt. (old hat by now)
8. Trip to Pharmacy (which is sometimes a multiple occurrence per day)
9. see #4
10. Dinner at Long John Silver's (go fish)
11. Dessert (mmmm McFlurry)
12. Night-night.
See, it's a structured routine. It may indeed be a structured routine for death, but everyone's life expectancy is zero on a long enough timeline. I'm with "Sue." I'll be happy to pitch in and pay for her rxs (of course she's medicaid, come on now...) for the rest of her shortened, soon to be amputee ridden life. The sad thing is I'd hire her, but I think the doctor appointments would be a fucking bitch to schedule around.
Now let's all jump on that treadmill, eh?
When I receive an oral order for her, I jokingly say to the dimwit calling in the rx(s): "you don't say." I then laugh like a giddy school girl after hanging up the phone. I will proceed to alert my staff of her daily arrival by saying "guess who?" In unison, the trained response is "Sue!?" Yep, every day.
I have thought about what it's like to be her. Imagine your day is waking up late, going to the doctor's office then going to the pharmacy. This is her sad reality. I felt bad for a nanosecond and then realized if my life turned into that, it would be time for some serious lifestyle modifications. You know, the ones we always theoretically recommend. Stop smoking (in my drive thru- wait, actually the waft of second-hand smoke is lovely sometimes), eat better, exercise, etc. I would do it - or would I? Sure my life expectancy may be cut drastically because of heart failure secondary to diabetes, but I wouldn't be working! I could get behind a program of:
1. Wake up late.
2. Eat delicious, fat laden breakfast.
3. Not showering
4. Being non compliant with meds
5. Lunch (Mickey-Ds anyone? I could get my McFlurry on...)
6. See 3 and 4.
7. Doctor's appt. (old hat by now)
8. Trip to Pharmacy (which is sometimes a multiple occurrence per day)
9. see #4
10. Dinner at Long John Silver's (go fish)
11. Dessert (mmmm McFlurry)
12. Night-night.
See, it's a structured routine. It may indeed be a structured routine for death, but everyone's life expectancy is zero on a long enough timeline. I'm with "Sue." I'll be happy to pitch in and pay for her rxs (of course she's medicaid, come on now...) for the rest of her shortened, soon to be amputee ridden life. The sad thing is I'd hire her, but I think the doctor appointments would be a fucking bitch to schedule around.
Now let's all jump on that treadmill, eh?
e-Rx Magic and Weekend Refills
Somewhere, somehow I knew that e-prescribing would be the bain of our existance. Sure, the rxs that come over to our system as "see long drug name" were obviously not hassle enough, that there needed to be a special attachment just to say "Acetazolamide 250mg." But now, it seems, there is no need to wait 'til Monday to get ahold of your doctor. More than a handful of times this weekend I had e-Rxs pop up in my queue , but here's the kicker: the majority of them were for refills of patients' medications, not weekend-worthy antibiotics for kids or special medications for the terminally ill. One that sticks out in my mind was for Flonase, that I received this Sunday. Gone are the days where doctors could leave their work at home. It seems to have followed them out of the office and home for the weekend. But Flonase...on a Sunday? In October no less. Not to mention the patient's previous fill of this hadn't been since March. Gone are the days of "I'm sorry, you'll have to wait until Monday." Gone are those sweet, sweet quiet weekends. I've got things for Lipitor and HCTZ refills on my e-Rx queue on a Saturday night.
Although, sometimes this makes me secretly happy. Anyone who works from 9am-2pm three days a week, with a 2-hour lunch break in between deserves to have that Flonase refill for Mrs. X pop up on their computer on a Sunday morning.
I'm going to go pray now, in hopes that there will never, EVER be refills popping up on my home computer to remote-refill Mr. Y's Viagra on a Sunday morning while I'm checking the news. The second work follows me home and bothers me on my computer, I vow to destroy all technology.
Although, sometimes this makes me secretly happy. Anyone who works from 9am-2pm three days a week, with a 2-hour lunch break in between deserves to have that Flonase refill for Mrs. X pop up on their computer on a Sunday morning.
I'm going to go pray now, in hopes that there will never, EVER be refills popping up on my home computer to remote-refill Mr. Y's Viagra on a Sunday morning while I'm checking the news. The second work follows me home and bothers me on my computer, I vow to destroy all technology.
Get the flu, it builds character
We are upon the dreaded flu season. I fear not the flu, but the psychos trying to obtain the flu vaccine. T-minus 3 days until I may not live to post again - not that anybody has read this blog (yet). You see, in my neighborhood, many peoples' engines are running except nobody is behind the wheel. Two years ago, the vaccine was in short supply. This caused a mass hysteria and/or conspiracy theories abound. I had to deal with calls telling me the terrorists had stolen the vaccines, the government (the man) was keeping us down, "I'd better get my fucking shot or some one's gonna pay" (WTF? who says that?), and I'm gonna go to another store if you don't fit me in (shucks - you were my fav crazy ass, too - BUH FUCKING BYE). People MOBBED the store in record numbers. The clinic scheduled for 4 hours lasted 15 minutes, leaving about 100 miserable fucks unvaccinated. Thankfully, I heard about this second hand.
Having given you some background, I can now tell you:
1. I have NO IDEA if your insurance/medicaid/care/grandma/cat/landlord/God covers your vaccination at my location. I don't administer the shots, some dumbshit nurse does (more on that in the future - it's late)
2. When you ask what time it is and I tell you - L I S T E N! My time is more valuable than yours (yes - no really - way) and I don't have time to repeat myself because your whistling miracle ear (wise investment) is on the fritz.
3. Go to your MD for the shot. It will be covered by most of the people in point #1 and I don't have to exchange "pleasantries" with you during my work day. That thing attached to my face is the phone, probably saying something like "yes...ma'am,ma'am..y...y..tw....yes two until six....y...y...y...b....f....yes, flu shots....yes 2 til 6......I don't know if the Nature's Bounty vitamins are on sale."
4. No, we don't make time exceptions based on your travel schedule. If you don't have a car and don't go out more than once a week, you qualify as a shut-in. You can't contract the flu from yourself at home. You'll probably contract more sickness in line for the shot than if you just kept your hermit self watching the TPIR. Yes, 1 dollar is always a safe bid.
5. Wash your hands. This is the best way not to spread/contract anything. The flu vaccine is an amalgam of scientists' "best guess" anyhow, so getting it is not a magic bullet. You see, viruses are smart motherfuckers - much smarter than you (my customers, not you readers).
6. Yes, I have Tamiflu in stock, no it's not covered (unless you are on the state's dime).
7. I don't know how long you'll have to wait. My response is minutes to hours, not a real crowd pleas er, but hey, my crystal ball is still in the shop.
8. Asking me any of these questions in a repetitive manner will NOT increase the likelihood that I will know the answer. Do people just get what the want everywhere else by being repetitious and annoying? It's vignette time kids:
Patient: Doc, can I have some Lor-a-tabs?
Doc: I don't know Mr/s. Hypochondriac, those are pretty powerful....
P: My Gramma "gave" me some and they work real good...
D: Well, you shouldn't take other p
Interrupting P: Yeah, they knocked the "pain" out real good
D: Well, I guess I could give you a trial script
P: How about a month's worth - my copay blah blah (profit margins)
D: Well, I don't know...I don't usually (my ass you lying prick/ho)
P: It'd really help me, I know my pain (hypochondria)
D: Okay, fine. 180 Lor-a-tabs (MDs don't know how to spell either) seems about right for your hangnail....
So I guess the answer is yes.
Just keep taking those 'tabs' and you won't have to worry about attacking my store on flu shot day. I have my Kevlar and face shield ready. Maybe you'll hear from me again.....until next time?
Having given you some background, I can now tell you:
1. I have NO IDEA if your insurance/medicaid/care/grandma/cat/landlord/God covers your vaccination at my location. I don't administer the shots, some dumbshit nurse does (more on that in the future - it's late)
2. When you ask what time it is and I tell you - L I S T E N! My time is more valuable than yours (yes - no really - way) and I don't have time to repeat myself because your whistling miracle ear (wise investment) is on the fritz.
3. Go to your MD for the shot. It will be covered by most of the people in point #1 and I don't have to exchange "pleasantries" with you during my work day. That thing attached to my face is the phone, probably saying something like "yes...ma'am,ma'am..y...y..tw....yes two until six....y...y...y...b....f....yes, flu shots....yes 2 til 6......I don't know if the Nature's Bounty vitamins are on sale."
4. No, we don't make time exceptions based on your travel schedule. If you don't have a car and don't go out more than once a week, you qualify as a shut-in. You can't contract the flu from yourself at home. You'll probably contract more sickness in line for the shot than if you just kept your hermit self watching the TPIR. Yes, 1 dollar is always a safe bid.
5. Wash your hands. This is the best way not to spread/contract anything. The flu vaccine is an amalgam of scientists' "best guess" anyhow, so getting it is not a magic bullet. You see, viruses are smart motherfuckers - much smarter than you (my customers, not you readers).
6. Yes, I have Tamiflu in stock, no it's not covered (unless you are on the state's dime).
7. I don't know how long you'll have to wait. My response is minutes to hours, not a real crowd pleas er, but hey, my crystal ball is still in the shop.
8. Asking me any of these questions in a repetitive manner will NOT increase the likelihood that I will know the answer. Do people just get what the want everywhere else by being repetitious and annoying? It's vignette time kids:
Patient: Doc, can I have some Lor-a-tabs?
Doc: I don't know Mr/s. Hypochondriac, those are pretty powerful....
P: My Gramma "gave" me some and they work real good...
D: Well, you shouldn't take other p
Interrupting P: Yeah, they knocked the "pain" out real good
D: Well, I guess I could give you a trial script
P: How about a month's worth - my copay blah blah (profit margins)
D: Well, I don't know...I don't usually (my ass you lying prick/ho)
P: It'd really help me, I know my pain (hypochondria)
D: Okay, fine. 180 Lor-a-tabs (MDs don't know how to spell either) seems about right for your hangnail....
So I guess the answer is yes.
Just keep taking those 'tabs' and you won't have to worry about attacking my store on flu shot day. I have my Kevlar and face shield ready. Maybe you'll hear from me again.....until next time?
Saturday, October 13, 2007
a word to the wise...
if you look at your prescription, and cannot tell what your own copay is going to be (you, who have the insurance...that you signed up for)
neither can i
so don't give me the "o rly?" face when i tell you i have to bill it to your insurance to find out YOUR copay. you look like an idiot.
neither can i
so don't give me the "o rly?" face when i tell you i have to bill it to your insurance to find out YOUR copay. you look like an idiot.
I should have aquired a minor in bricklaying
Ahhh the drive-thru; where to begin? We're so lazy, we have even shortened the 'through' portion of it. The drive THROUGH is truly the devil's asshole. I wish I knew how to patch in brick and mortar to rid my life of this evil. It would be kind of a masonry exorcism. I can't begin to convey the level of fucktardedness that "drives" through (thru) on a daily basis. We have two lanes: drop off and pick-up. This is clearly marked on the building, overhang, and pavement. Isn't there some type of reading requirement to drive? The reason I query is because people are continually going to the wrong side to either drop off or pick-up. People will get MAD at me, a semi-competent health care professional when any of the following happen:
1. Your rx/money will blow away and you have to get out of your car, completely ruining the whole drive-thru (DT) idea in the first place. I subsequently laugh my ass off whilst they chase down their goods. They then have the audacity to tell me there is a design flaw with my establishment because "it's windy --- you should do somethin' about it." Okay fucknuts, I'll come out there and stop the wind (who am I, fucking Thor or some shit?).
2. I "accidentally" crank on your rear view mirror with my heavy metal drawer when you're clearly too close to the building. Vengeful, yes, but there is a toll for the DT bitches. I do always make it seem as though it was a mistake or say something like "oooooh didn't realize your car (read: hoopty) was so close..."
3. You expect me to somehow defy physics and send your diapers/depends/underpads or other urine soaking device via our drop off tube system. I didn't design it folks. The tube is my mortal enemy. Just like you can't send your piggy bank to the teller at the bank, my tube is also sturdy enough to carry the air inside and maybe a rx vial (maybe 2 - depends on the day). If you have urine soaking devices to pick up, please come in - we gots bags to put 'em in. Oh yeah, you're in the wrong fucking lane pissy.
4. People who's windows don't work. Nothing makes my day like seeing some fucking weirdo STANDING and peering in my DT outside of their mobile. Here's a hint: if your windows don't work, God does not want you to use my DT; come on in. The wind comes into play here again. We live in a wintry climate. Nothing like a crisp day with no temperature (0 degrees) and a retard in an Elmer Fudd hat to make the day brighter. These people actually will say something like "I've been standing here forever, I'm freezin'!" This is clearly not my bad life decision. "We have this new-fangled thing called 'heat' in here," I will say bitingly. Come in the store if your windows don't work - for the love of my sanity. Also, one could go Dukes of Hazzard on their rig and knock out the windows - problem solved.
I have many more, but my time is up for now. Remember, the DT is a privilege, not a birthright. My employer will never take that privilege away, however, so keep being as stupid as you want. Also remember that a side order of fentanyl or a super-sized codeine shake is definitely extra. Try our new combo........ugh
1. Your rx/money will blow away and you have to get out of your car, completely ruining the whole drive-thru (DT) idea in the first place. I subsequently laugh my ass off whilst they chase down their goods. They then have the audacity to tell me there is a design flaw with my establishment because "it's windy --- you should do somethin' about it." Okay fucknuts, I'll come out there and stop the wind (who am I, fucking Thor or some shit?).
2. I "accidentally" crank on your rear view mirror with my heavy metal drawer when you're clearly too close to the building. Vengeful, yes, but there is a toll for the DT bitches. I do always make it seem as though it was a mistake or say something like "oooooh didn't realize your car (read: hoopty) was so close..."
3. You expect me to somehow defy physics and send your diapers/depends/underpads or other urine soaking device via our drop off tube system. I didn't design it folks. The tube is my mortal enemy. Just like you can't send your piggy bank to the teller at the bank, my tube is also sturdy enough to carry the air inside and maybe a rx vial (maybe 2 - depends on the day). If you have urine soaking devices to pick up, please come in - we gots bags to put 'em in. Oh yeah, you're in the wrong fucking lane pissy.
4. People who's windows don't work. Nothing makes my day like seeing some fucking weirdo STANDING and peering in my DT outside of their mobile. Here's a hint: if your windows don't work, God does not want you to use my DT; come on in. The wind comes into play here again. We live in a wintry climate. Nothing like a crisp day with no temperature (0 degrees) and a retard in an Elmer Fudd hat to make the day brighter. These people actually will say something like "I've been standing here forever, I'm freezin'!" This is clearly not my bad life decision. "We have this new-fangled thing called 'heat' in here," I will say bitingly. Come in the store if your windows don't work - for the love of my sanity. Also, one could go Dukes of Hazzard on their rig and knock out the windows - problem solved.
I have many more, but my time is up for now. Remember, the DT is a privilege, not a birthright. My employer will never take that privilege away, however, so keep being as stupid as you want. Also remember that a side order of fentanyl or a super-sized codeine shake is definitely extra. Try our new combo........ugh
Friday, October 12, 2007
Don't Judge Me
I was reminded today by one of my fellow techs, Brian, that sometimes I am not the most tactful in customer-service relations. However true this may be, I don't think it's wrong to point out simple truths, correct you when you're wrong, and be slightly condescending when you ask stupid questions. I believe that this tactic will lead some customers to think for themselves before they say things, and prevent them from further asking of stupid questions. While this may be a futile gesture, I believe it necessary, as well as fun.
The said situation that Brian had reminded me of was a customer call I once got regarding an amox suspension for their child. "I can't help but notice," the parent said "that the seal is broken on my son's medicine."
"Uh, yes." I replied "That's how we get the water in there..."
Maybe it just makes sense to me?
I once got a question from a woman who was on a low/no-carb diet. She complained of feeling lethargic and tired all the time. I explained that the energy your body uses for day-to-day tasks comes from carbohydrates and sugars that are turned into energy in the body. So depriving your body of necessary ingredients, such as carbohydrates, to make energy would, of course, make you feel tired and lethargic. I said to her: "Maybe it wouldn't be so bad once in a while to eat a sandwich..."
At which point my fellow techs escape to the back of the pharmacy to laugh, I find nothing wrong with this statement. These people need things spelled out for them, in a language they understand. If I went on about the ATP, the Kreb's cycle and cAMP and complex glucose molecules she would have stared at me dumbfounded. People are truly, inherently, idiots.
A few weeks ago a woman told me she was allergic to "pertussis." I then had to explain that "pertussis" is a disease...
As another note, everytime I'm at work I am reminded of one of my favorite Lewis Black quotes:
"its very simple; sit in a chair for 19 hours and take your hands and press your head as hard as you can. and dont stop DONT STOP"
The said situation that Brian had reminded me of was a customer call I once got regarding an amox suspension for their child. "I can't help but notice," the parent said "that the seal is broken on my son's medicine."
"Uh, yes." I replied "That's how we get the water in there..."
Maybe it just makes sense to me?
I once got a question from a woman who was on a low/no-carb diet. She complained of feeling lethargic and tired all the time. I explained that the energy your body uses for day-to-day tasks comes from carbohydrates and sugars that are turned into energy in the body. So depriving your body of necessary ingredients, such as carbohydrates, to make energy would, of course, make you feel tired and lethargic. I said to her: "Maybe it wouldn't be so bad once in a while to eat a sandwich..."
At which point my fellow techs escape to the back of the pharmacy to laugh, I find nothing wrong with this statement. These people need things spelled out for them, in a language they understand. If I went on about the ATP, the Kreb's cycle and cAMP and complex glucose molecules she would have stared at me dumbfounded. People are truly, inherently, idiots.
A few weeks ago a woman told me she was allergic to "pertussis." I then had to explain that "pertussis" is a disease...
As another note, everytime I'm at work I am reminded of one of my favorite Lewis Black quotes:
"its very simple; sit in a chair for 19 hours and take your hands and press your head as hard as you can. and dont stop DONT STOP"
Thursday, October 4, 2007
Introduction
Okay, I won't lie. I did get the idea for a pharmacy blog from a couple of friends of mine The Angry Pharmacist and Drug Monkey. It's not to rip off someone else's idea, but some of my friends and I need a place to vent our own stories of the workbench. It's a hard-knock life out there in the retail trenches and there's only so much bullshit you can put up with day to day before your thoughts have to go somewhere. So I'll add a few stories from my own personal archive of hellish work tales, and let my friends do the talking as well, and soon you'll hate retail pharmacy just as much as we do, enjoy!
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