We were 3 doses shy of the full amount of Declan’s antibiotics again this time. I say “again,” because this is the fourth time it has happened. The amazing part is the last three times we have had a prescription filled for this sort of thing, sinus infection, ear infection, whatever – the stuff he gets quite frequently, because, oh, yeah, HE’S A KID – I *have* mentioned the problem to you. And what did I get in return? Concern? Apologies? Promises to make sure there would be enough medicine next time?
(Medicine, which by the way, I have to pay full price for because I am on an HSA and while it’s nice that I have a spending account to pull the money from and it all goes toward my deductible, the point is I am still paying full price for every single prescription I get. Prescriptions I could be making car payments with.)
So, when I mention all this to you, and politely ask you to make sure there is enough to account for waste, what do I get? Rolling. of. the. eyes. ~I CAN SEE YOU, MR. SMUG PHARMACY MAN.~ There is no wall of invisibility vibrating up from that shelf of pills you hide behind. I can see you when you roll your eyes and you get annoyed with my questions. But you know what, after the THIRD time of being several days shy of the magic 10 day antibiotic dosage number, I feel I have the right to ask. Did you know, there is a lecture from the doctor EVERY TIME YOU GO about how antibiotics are worthless if they are not taken through their full dose, and he has me CONVINCED that my kid is going to die of bird flu?
And also, after me coming to your pharmacy for 15 years, I also have the right to ask for a little bit of customer service. You could even bother to learn my name. I know yours, even if I can’t pronounce it. Trust me, I would give a rats ass if you fuck up my name like everyone else does – just attempt it. We can make a game of it even. Who can fuck up each other’s name the worst! Awesome!
I also know roughly how much you make, given the fact I have several friends who are pharmacists at area hospitals so I know that people working at retail locations make a SHITLOAD more money than they do, enough money to compensate you for the insurance hassles and the whiny moms who just want to make sure their kids don’t become immune to antibiotics and die from the bird flu.
And when that whiny mom, with her diabetes and sleep disorder, and her husband with allergies and the occasional stomach parasite, and their son with asthma – you know, the mom who spends an average of $2,000 per year in your pharmacy on prescriptions alone – not to mention the sudafed, mucinex, eye drops and vaginal [mumble mumble] stuff – when that mom calls you up and tells you it is now FOUR times that she is shy on her antibiotics – it MIGHT behoove you to keep the contempt out of your voice, and do something other than tell her to call her doctor. YES, I measured carefully. NO, I didn’t spill any. Unless you count the night that Bryan and I got a little nutty and thought shots of bubble gum amoxicillin would be wicked awesome before bedtime.
You, sir, bring out the crazy.
I hate that.