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Oh goody. It's Monday. Lets rewind that tape and do it all over again.
The Purple Lawn Gnome: So named because of the bad dye job she uses, meant to be auburn, in reality a screamingly insane plum shade, as if a million raisins all cried out at once and then were silent. This one like to ask you questions, and before you can answer, she asks 30 more, none of which are related. Come time to sign for her meds and she picks up that stylus like Jason Voorhees with a hard on and STABSTABSTAB those offensive buttons. I've seen her knock the damn thing right off its foundations. Think you're done? Oh no. 60 more questions, a handful of unused coupons (all of which expired seven years ago) and the accusatory round, in which she examines everything you just bagged up for her and demands to know if everything was the right price, did you use my card and coupons, I need to talk to the Pharmacist. She's like a tiny little cyclone of cranky.
The Titmouse: She will call the pharmacy three or four times a day, needing to speak with the pharmacist, asking in her tiny little voice: "Um, what does this medication do? How will it interact with my other meds? Is there a generic? Is the generic REALLY the same thing? Oh and just one more question. Please do not touch my medication if you've recently eaten red peppers because I'm DEATHLY allergic. And after you've counted them, please wrap them in fiberglass, lock the bottle with barbed wire and don't breathe on them! Oh and just one more question. I need to know if my cellular activity will be interrupted by the fillers in my metoprolol, and if it's okay to eat peanut butter while I'm menstruating. What do you mean I should ask my doctor, I want this to be a pharmacist question! Why CAN'T it be a pharmacist question? Oh and just one more question...
(The Pharmacists refuse to take her calls anymore, because she keeps them on the line for at least 20 minutes.)
The Psycho Hose Beast: She has scary eyes that never blink, a halo of red hair so fierce it must be touched up every morning with a bucket of baby's blood, and a mouth so pinched her lips have almost entirely disappeared. She was kicked out once when she pulled her car in behind the pharmacists and refused to allow him to leave until he went back inside and reopened the pharmacy just for her. He called the police instead. Now she's changed her strategy to thick contempt, so disgusted and exhausted by your incompetence and obvious stupidity that she practically must do your job for you. Heavy sighs, eye rolling, the "how dare you suggest I call my own doctor and ask him where my medicine is?" attitude. "I can assure you that THAT will NOT be happening." Fine with me, Ms. Barracuda, it won't be happening on my end either.
The Chatty Crack Head: She used to come in, always in a hurry, cart piled full of useless crap like Coca Cola glasses, a magic mop set, tons of junk food and candy and make-up. She'd pick up ONE prescription and drop about $400 on crap, charging it to her mother's credit card. Her mother finally came in and said: "I don't want her using that card anymore for anything other than meds." Fine with me. In comes Crack Queen the very next week, cart piled high with worthless shite. I told her "Nope, sorry. You can buy your meds with mommy's card but that's it."
HER: "But that's MY money!"
ME: "Your mom's name is on the card, not yours."
HER: "CALL HER RIGHT NOW!"
ME: "No, you'll have to do that in your own time."
HER: "YOU HATE ME! YOU'VE ALWAYS HATED ME!" Runs sobbing from the store, leaving her cart behind. I go over to push it out of the way and find a note in the front seat:
* get as much make-up as you can
* use a cart, NOT a basket, so they don't suspect
* mozzarella sticks!
* act like in hurry so they don't question
I turned the note over to the store manager. Store manager gave CCH a phone call and forbade her ever to set foot in store again. Seems as though, when she ran sobbing out of the store, she helped herself to a bouquet of flowers, snatching them up and running out without paying for them.
There are others, but I don't want to bore you. Also, I'm due in at 8am and must go and prepare myself mentally with deep Buddhist meditation, several handfuls of muscle relaxants and much denial.
Have a nice day.
The Purple Lawn Gnome: So named because of the bad dye job she uses, meant to be auburn, in reality a screamingly insane plum shade, as if a million raisins all cried out at once and then were silent. This one like to ask you questions, and before you can answer, she asks 30 more, none of which are related. Come time to sign for her meds and she picks up that stylus like Jason Voorhees with a hard on and STABSTABSTAB those offensive buttons. I've seen her knock the damn thing right off its foundations. Think you're done? Oh no. 60 more questions, a handful of unused coupons (all of which expired seven years ago) and the accusatory round, in which she examines everything you just bagged up for her and demands to know if everything was the right price, did you use my card and coupons, I need to talk to the Pharmacist. She's like a tiny little cyclone of cranky.
The Titmouse: She will call the pharmacy three or four times a day, needing to speak with the pharmacist, asking in her tiny little voice: "Um, what does this medication do? How will it interact with my other meds? Is there a generic? Is the generic REALLY the same thing? Oh and just one more question. Please do not touch my medication if you've recently eaten red peppers because I'm DEATHLY allergic. And after you've counted them, please wrap them in fiberglass, lock the bottle with barbed wire and don't breathe on them! Oh and just one more question. I need to know if my cellular activity will be interrupted by the fillers in my metoprolol, and if it's okay to eat peanut butter while I'm menstruating. What do you mean I should ask my doctor, I want this to be a pharmacist question! Why CAN'T it be a pharmacist question? Oh and just one more question...
(The Pharmacists refuse to take her calls anymore, because she keeps them on the line for at least 20 minutes.)
The Psycho Hose Beast: She has scary eyes that never blink, a halo of red hair so fierce it must be touched up every morning with a bucket of baby's blood, and a mouth so pinched her lips have almost entirely disappeared. She was kicked out once when she pulled her car in behind the pharmacists and refused to allow him to leave until he went back inside and reopened the pharmacy just for her. He called the police instead. Now she's changed her strategy to thick contempt, so disgusted and exhausted by your incompetence and obvious stupidity that she practically must do your job for you. Heavy sighs, eye rolling, the "how dare you suggest I call my own doctor and ask him where my medicine is?" attitude. "I can assure you that THAT will NOT be happening." Fine with me, Ms. Barracuda, it won't be happening on my end either.
The Chatty Crack Head: She used to come in, always in a hurry, cart piled full of useless crap like Coca Cola glasses, a magic mop set, tons of junk food and candy and make-up. She'd pick up ONE prescription and drop about $400 on crap, charging it to her mother's credit card. Her mother finally came in and said: "I don't want her using that card anymore for anything other than meds." Fine with me. In comes Crack Queen the very next week, cart piled high with worthless shite. I told her "Nope, sorry. You can buy your meds with mommy's card but that's it."
HER: "But that's MY money!"
ME: "Your mom's name is on the card, not yours."
HER: "CALL HER RIGHT NOW!"
ME: "No, you'll have to do that in your own time."
HER: "YOU HATE ME! YOU'VE ALWAYS HATED ME!" Runs sobbing from the store, leaving her cart behind. I go over to push it out of the way and find a note in the front seat:
* get as much make-up as you can
* use a cart, NOT a basket, so they don't suspect
* mozzarella sticks!
* act like in hurry so they don't question
I turned the note over to the store manager. Store manager gave CCH a phone call and forbade her ever to set foot in store again. Seems as though, when she ran sobbing out of the store, she helped herself to a bouquet of flowers, snatching them up and running out without paying for them.
There are others, but I don't want to bore you. Also, I'm due in at 8am and must go and prepare myself mentally with deep Buddhist meditation, several handfuls of muscle relaxants and much denial.
Have a nice day.
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