Lovastatin OTC - Hell No, We Won't Go

I know your pharmacy members are throbbing in anticipation of a new article so....ta-da!

So recently hell froze over, I'm not sure if you know. I...I agreed with an FDA ruling on barring Lovastatin from going OTC as Mevacor 20. Now I don't have too long left in this day of usual hell, so I'm going to make this quick and painless, like Novocain.

First of all, I'd like to know who thinks that these...customers...of ours can successfully manage a medication regimen that revolves around having continuous bloodwork. Or successfully diagnose themselves with "high cholesterol." And not take them just because you're fat. People, collectively, are not very smart. Think of your own scary encounters with customers. Just think about it....

Why do I even listen?

People are the worst; Jerry Seinfeld said that. I really have lost faith in the "common man." I'm convinced the soon-to-be politically correct term will be the "uncommon man." Don't understand where I'm going with this - let's watch!

A woman called up to see if her "OPPRESSION" drug was ready. Fuck. That is the only one word sentence I could think of. Seriously, how fucking stupid does one need to be. There is a major difference between DEPRESSION (which is what I believe she was referring to - who really knows) and OPPRESSION. Unless you are a former slave or a pharmacy employee, you are not oppressed. Now, before you call me a motherfucker, I am NOT comparing slavery to pharmacy employment in any way, shape or form. We are/were not oppressed in nearly the fashion they were. We do however have to put up with alot of abuse and rarely get a bathroom break. That's neither here nor there, though. Back to "OPRESSA" as I named her in my head.....(what a great birth control name - "kill the tiny babies within you with Opressa!")

I informed her that her oppression medication was not authorized by the doctor yet and she should contact her MD about her oppression med (Oh yes I did). She is in a wheelchair and one of her sons is a dead ringer for Boy George, so maybe I'm the idiot....maybe she is oppressed (huh).

Next in line........we're getting a store face lift after the hostile takeover. PPR - that's paint, powder, reset to those playing along at home. I saw paint (whomever picked those colors should be drug out in the street and shot - twice), I saw reset; I'm not really sure about this mythical powder - it's absence has me a little worried. During the chaos of paint and swearing painters, 1 in 3 people would come up and ask: "So ur shuttin' the place down?" What......the.....fuck? Who paints a fresh coat and moves out? Okay, security deposit guy, I hear you. Really though.....They're painting 14 distinct loud, exotic, and/or hideous colors. What is going through their heads? My responses were as follows:

1. Yep, wanted to spruce 'er up before we shut 'er down...... (Blank stare)
2. Why would we paint just to move out? (Blanker stare - oh, this was the equiv of me saying fuck you without saying fuck you)
3. Yep, tomorrow we're gonna set it on fire (Blankest stare)

Well, sorry for the delay in posting. I'm sure RxforDisaster missed my lunacy.

Ta ta for now.

PP

Conversion Update

Ahoy-hoy friends, long though I have been gone, I have missed you. I mean you...the one of you out there that reads this blog....
Life has been hectic in Ye Olde Conversion. Many a night I go home, drink a bottle of wine and pass out with my cat licking my face. Only to wake up the next morning and have to go back to the Hole.
Today is Day #10 in a row and I finally have tomorrow off. Guess what I'll be doing tonight?

Some random thoughts:

I am going to find out where my customers work. I am then going to go harass them there. Even better if they are getting a new computer system. Then I will stand and scream for about 20 minutes, yell "THIS IS FUCKING RIDICULOUS" and leave.

I'm not sorry I wrote on your controlled script when you got it filled last because you're trying to get it filled 11 days early. And no, you can't sue me for doing that. I know a man named Karl who will tear you apart for saying that (most of you know who I'm talking about).

When the drive-thru is broken, it's broken. We don't do that just to spite you (or do we...?). OH and when there is an accident in the parking lot of our lovely business, DON'T call corporate and complain that you couldn't get to the drive-thru because an ambulance was blocking it (TRUE STORY).

Girls need to stop getting so uppity about their birth control.

And I WILL stab the next person who doesn't want generic Protonix.

There just aren't enough hours in a day, really.

Cheers!

I...I love the internet. Sorry pharmacy phriends, your beloved has recently moved and does not have internet access in the new digs yet. I can't recount all the happening since I have left, but I can tell you it's been a hell of a few weeks working with new computer systems and trainers from California whose lovely advice consisted of things like "well in California we do blah blah blah this way" and "I'm not sure, you should probably call your buddy store down the street." But alas they left left and the yelling ensued from customers who could obviously see a counter full of new electronic equipment but who could give a frig less and were appalled when the wait time skyrocketed to 45 minutes to an hour. This elicited responses such as "AH HOUR?!?!" and "JESUS what the hell are you guys doing back there!?!?"
sigh.
And the new cover of Drug Topics is a boat made of hypodermic needles. Weird.

But do not fear chitlins, I have not forsaken you. These visits should be more frequent now that we get WiFi here in hell and I am fortunate enough to have a laptop.
Happy dispensing to all, and to all a good night...

I'm torn: laugh or look away?

Okay, I think laugh on this one. Oxycodone and Viagra combined? Good times, good times; you'll see.........




Sorry - I had to.

Uncle! An open letter to my phones.

You win, phone; you win. Your incessant ringing and lady who says "PHARMACY, YOU HAVE A CALL....BLAHHHHH (LOUD BEEPING NOISE, SOUNDS LIKE BLAHHHHHHH)" have me beaten. That's just the start.....then one must answer said phone. I've changed my greeting to make things stupefied for my stupids, but same result. Here's a few examples:

PP: This is phrustrated, how may I help you?

Now, this seems like it has it all, no? I state my name, speak in a calm, soothing tone of voice and ask politely how I may be of service. Nope. Here's the responses I get:

1. Yeah, uhhh, is this phrustrated? (No, I like to lie about my identity right from the get-go)
2. Yeah, uhhh, did my doctor call yous? (Whenever you hear "yous" - run. Run real fast)
3. Yeah, uhhh, is my subscription done? (Where to begin?)
4. Yeah, uhhh, my doctor was supposibly gonna call yous, did he? (There's that yous again)
5. Yeah, uhhh, is this the photo area? (Why do I answer, why?)
6. Yeah, uhhh, I have some numbers....(Congratulations - I will say it one day - I don't know
when, I don't know who - but it's comin' fucka)

You may notice the first greeting of my slack-jawed contingency is "yeah, uhhh." Why is it that people cannot form a coherent sentence/statement/question/thought without the "yeah, uhhh?" I don't get it. I went to elementary/middle school in a poor, retarded town. I escaped (I mean excaped) and am able to speak without a.....ummmm......uhhh.....sttttammmmer.

Here's a bit of free advice:

Everybody's time is valuable in some way, shape or form. Think of what you're going to say ahead of time and identify yourself in some manner, please. I don't know who the fuck you are (well, actually, sometimes I do) and I don't know who your doctor is (well, sometimes I do). Chances are I'm going to reply by saying "That would all depend on who you are and who your doctor is." Never fails - next response "oh." No, your name is not "oh" fucker (unless you are by some strange miracle in fact Saduharu Oh of Japanese baseball fame - not so much). So, tell me these things three when calling:

1. Your (fucking) name - no stuttering
2. State your intentions in ten words or less
3. Your doctor if applicable

If you have refills use the automated system. It is 2008 and we've all evolved - except you phone in your numbers guy. I've tried it, it's not hard. I won't go into detail, but just mottle through and make my life a little more peaceful.

I got into an argument with a deaf woman....

.....and I lost. It wasn't a fair fight, really. First of all, it was a phone conversation. Yeah, that's right (thanks New York State). NY has a system called "NYS Relay" for the deaf/hearing impaired. It works by the deaf/hearing impaired person typing into a prompter/futuristic device ----> to an operator whom interprets and speaks to you (and says "GO AHEAD" after every fucking statement). You then respond (go ahead) -----> operator types what you say to the deaf/hearing impaired person. Let it be known a normal conversation is about as much fun as getting the back of your balls hit with a spiked bat. Now, I have nothing against deaf people; I had a late uncle who was deaf (from birth) and was quite affable. The hearing impaired, however (read: old crotchety people), are on my shitlist. Hear's (pardon the pun) how the convo went:

Me: Pharmacy, may I help you?

Operator: This is NYS relay, have you..

M: "go ahead"

O: Hi.........my........name........is.........Helen........Keller.......I......need.......rxs......delivered.......(ga)
note: (ga) will now = "go ahead" for typing/sanity purposes
M: What are the numbers (ga)?

O: I..........don't..........have............them............I...........was...........told...........to.............call..........your...
store........b/c.........you..........have...........delivery................(ga)

M: (I like where this is headed - look in Helen's profile --- last filled 2004 - fuck me) All of your rxs are expired, we'll have to contact your doctor (ga).

O: But..........I.............get..........them..........at............a..........different............chain............store......(ga)

M: We'll have to transfer the rxs to our store (ga)

O: But.........I..........was..........told.........you..........deliver...........(ga)

M: (What?) What? (ga)

O: When..........will.............I............get..........my............rxs..............?.........(ga)

M: I don't have them here, I'll have to obtain them from the other store (Oh, yeah, the rxs at said location were expired/outa refills and it was Christmas Eve - no delivery or hope until Jesus's b-day was over) (ga)

O: But.........I...........was...........told.........to.........call..........you.............(ga)

M: I don't dispute that fact (ga)

I'll end the misery here. This went on for TWENTY, count 'em, TWENTY fucking minutes of my semi-valuable life I will never get back. I stayed up twenty minutes later that night to try, but it just wasn't the same.

I hate relay calls, but the deaf/hearing impaired need phones too. I'm just glad it wasn't a Jetson's vis-a-phone or I would have really been up shit's creek. As frustrating as the relay calls may be, they beat the hell out of my knowledge of sign language - which only consists of "fuck you asshole." Come to think, that would've worked. Jesus loves me, this I know because NY relay tells me so.

Happy New Year (I think)