Pills Baby Pills

I present my prescription to the Publix pharmacy.   Perched at her computer, Jacket Lady frowns at the scrawl for a moment, then, brandishing it slightly, asks, “First time here?”

That fast, and we’re off.  Like the starter’s gun, she sends me racing – pissed off and in the wrong direction.

Does she mean, “Is this the first time you’re filling this here, or is this a refill?”  Or does she mean, “Is this the first time  you’re using the Publix pharmacy?” I consider, and figure it has to be the former.  What’s the significance of my having visited before – if I were buying a loaf of bread and a pack of condoms, the cashier wouldn’t ask that question, would she?  It’s just a transaction, right?

But before I can ask, “You mean me or the prescription?” she says, eyes still fixed on her computer screen (rather than her customer), “Oh, there you are.  I found you.”

So I have it wrong again.  I never get it right.  I just don’t speak the shorthand these assorted semi-professional service people toss about like the general public knows all about it.  It infuriates me that they assume everybody does.  Why can’t they speak in full sentences, and say what they mean?

Then she asks, “Can you confirm your address and telephone number?”

WTF?  I’m buying pills, ferchrissake, not applying for citizenship.  But I’ll play the game because I need the meds.  “I suppose,” I say, and wait for her.  But a moment passes, and  — finally – she actually looks at me.  That’s when I figure out she wants ME to tell HER my address and phone number.  That’s not “confirming” it – asking me to “confirm it”  would mean SHE tells ME what she sees, and I tell HER it’s right (or wrong).   SHE’s confirming the data, not me.

(Sorry to be a competent speaker of the language, but if you’re going to gibber and obfuscate in my direction, we’re going nowhere.  Garbage in, garbage out and all that.)

Okay, so we’re beyond the foreplay.  She asks if I want to wait or come back to pick them up.  How long a wait, I ask.  “Twenty minutes,” she says.  Why does it fucking take 20 minutes to walk over to a large bottle of pills, count out 30, and place them in a small bottle?  I shake my head.   I’ll come back, I tell her.  “We close at 9,” she says.

Hours later Guido calls from her office and asks me if I got my meds.  I tell her No, and she says she’ll pick them up for me on her way home.  Then she calls me from Publix and  says, “They don’t have them in.  Do you want to wait two days, or should I take the prescription somewhere else?”

Wait two days?!  Holy hairy nutsack — Jacket Lady knows she doesn’t have them, and doesn’t call me back right away with this information?  I might have made a return trip maybe just before closing and learned this only then, leaving me no time to find another open pharmacy, desperately hoping it was available elsewhere?  It’s vital I start those meds today – I already had the first part of the treatment  (an injection in the ass, naturally) —  and she can’t be bothered to behave professionally and courteously?

I really resent these people and the way they conduct what laughably passes for health care in this country that half the nation is so wrought up over changing.   It might as well be a loaf of bread and a package of condoms at stake here, not some poor bastard’s fucking cancer.  It’s just product and profit unblemished by any sense of patient care or  professional ethics.  They manage to prove this each and every time I have to interface with them.

Bitch.  Cunt.  Selfish brain dead capitalist tool.  Hope there’s shit in your bed every morning where a lover’s hard body should be.

Guido retrieves the paperwork and stops at Waldron’s, where the prescription is filled.  It takes them 20 minutes.  Big bottles small bottles.  Must be the industry standard.

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8 Responses to Pills Baby Pills

  1. ya'gotta'guessit says:

    Stop saying “meds”.

    Say “medicine(s)”, or “medication(s)”.

    “Meds” is exactly what you’re griping about – an annoying bullshit shorthand that so-called healthcare professionals and their victims use.

    Don’t say “meds”, anymore.

    • Squathole says:

      Okay. How about, “fix” or “junk”? No, wait. “Junk” is the male package.

      1:31 AM. Don’t you ever sleep? You’d make a nice piece of change in the kitchen of an all-night diner. Is Dutch’s still open?

  2. Flaming Yon says:

    Your rap about “confirming your address” is right on. Once in a while I get a call from some stakeholder like my insurance company or a credit card that will ask me the same thing. I refuse. “YOU called ME,” I tell them. “YOU read ME what you have and I’ll tell you if it’s right or wrong.” They refuse, of course.

  3. Manuel Override says:

    It doesn’t take 20 minutes to prepare medication. That 20 minutes is the amount of time determined to be just below the tipping point for most consumers to stay in the store rather than leave and return. They want you to waste some time browsing the aisles and finding something else to buy. This, too, is part of the way “medical care” is handled in this great nation.

  4. Moose and Squirrel says:

    You seem to have a gift of attracting the very worst of circumstances, then making them even more complicated than need be. While the counterperson mioght have been more personable, I don’t know anybody other thsan you who would have misunderstood her question.

    Even though there are pharmacies in supermarkets now, the purchase of medication is not the same as purchasing other items in the store. There are unique legal and insurance considerations, which is why your identity must be established before proceeding. Hence her line of questioning…..she was seeking your records in the computer to expedite the process. Not to confuse or persecute you.

    I’m a medical technician, not a psychologist, but it’s hard not to noticfe that you exhibit paranoid tendencies.

    Yes, she should have called you as soon as she discovered that the order couldn’t be filled. That is poor service, and as you point out, potentially dangerous. That noted, I would not condemn the entire system and everybody in it, as you seem to do whenever you post about these matters.

    • Squathole says:

      That’s fine that she has to check my records before filling a prescription, M&S. Is it a secret procedure? Is there any reason she can’t explain this to me, maybe even using full sentences so I can be a part of this process, other than the part that pays for it?

      I don’t condemn everybody, just the dregs I deal with. Which seem to be everywhere. You’re right: maybe I draw them to me. But they’re there. All the time.

  5. I read, then re-read your article and frankly I am amazed that the pharmacist didn’t mark everything as a “suppository”. Good thing Guido went elsewhere. Send her from now on.

    When you report back to your home planet, be succinct please.

  6. Human Buffet says:

    Bitch. Cunt. Selfish brain dead capitalist tool. Hope there’s shit in your bed every morning where a lover’s hard body should be.

    Heh. Sweet. Heh.

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