Ok, I know it has been quite a long time (full of weeping and gnashing of the teeth) since my last post, but give your jaws and eyes a rest because your grief-stricken days are over for now. A lot has occurred in the world during my hiatus, and I would like to address a couple of those things.
Avatar practically bombed at the Oscars, which gives me fuzzy feelings inside knowing that the ever-pompous James Cameron has run out of tears and has severely inflamed ducts due to his non-stop cry-fest since being beaten out by his ex-wife. Ha! Jerk!
The world seems to be taking a very brief vacation from swooning over those long-toothed, blood-gurgling, undead freaks from Twilight just long enough to embrace the needs-to-be-constantly-mostly-naked-with-crazy-glasses-and-a-disturbingly-unhuman-face, talentless, transgender known affectionately as Lady Gaga. What, exactly, is the draw to her? She has the face of an Ewok (those creepy, bear-like creatures from Star Wars), and the singing prowess of a Pussycat Doll being prodded in the neck with a hot iron (sort of like Poker Face – get it?).
Anywho…
People need to stop giving dumb names to their children. At the pharmacy there are really dumb ones, like Treasure, Heaven, Darwin, and even one named Messiah. Are you kidding me? Unless you are setting forth a path for your whiny brats to become leaders of some new, religious movement (Darwin/Messiah) or full-on, low-class, trashy, strippers (Treasure/Heaven), stop giving your children ridiculous names. I know as a parent you have the power to assign your unfortunate offspring with whatever ludicrous moniker your cruel, black heart desires, but think about what you are doing to those children before you send them out into the world to be thoroughly humiliated by my kids, Superfly, Ninja Dragon, and Queen Emma The Awesome.
Some guy came in complaining to Senior Jackie Chan that someone opened his kid’s bottle of liquid antibiotic. Really people?
A lady, whose attitude suggested that she regularly feasts upon the still-living bodies of mice, children, hobos, and new-born kittens, was giving me hell the other day. She was irritated that we didn’t magically have her new insurance information on file. I updated the system and reran the claim through her not-magically inputted insurance. I was ringing up her transaction and counting down the seconds to the glorious exit of the latest kitty-eating, slack-jaw the fine city of Katy has to offer when she pulled out a discount voucher from the pharmaceutical. I died for a few moments, and unfortunately came back to life with the lady still there. I explained that I would have to enter the voucher information and run her Rx through yet again. This, of course, took her by complete surprise (magic expected again), and she mumbled something inappropriate in a sinister-yet-hushed screech. I was about to come back with something to this pet raven of the devil that would be completely satisfying, unabashedly malicious, and sure to get me fired (Oh no, no more CVS!!! Millions of fake freaking tears…), when I read something on the voucher that amused me. Written in bold with lots of capitalized and underlined words, “Hand this to the pharmacist when DROPPING OFF your prescription NOT when PICKING UP your medication!” That is a bingo!!!
The Cylinders have stop coming in to fill!!! YAY!!!
Lastly, a guy walks up to the counter. The normal indifferent, exchange of existence acknowledgments take place, and he tells me the name of the person for which he is picking up medication. How many? He has no clue. I verify the medications with him. He has no clue. I could have told him I have three medications for your stupid kid, rat poison, cocaine, and marshmallows – he would still have that classic, brain-dead look on his face. The man calls his wife to make sure he is supposed to be picking up eye drops for his poor, poor, kids with allergies. I can hear her bantering on about how her precious little princess has watery, red eyes and is just minutes from an excruciating, untimely (yet in my opinion deserving) death. Verification verified, and ready to move on…nope! The guy who is still wearing his $300 Oakley sunglasses and $2,000, ugly Bulova watch cannot believe that Medicaid did not completely cover his kid’s allergy eye drops. The co pay is $20. He calls his wife again, and makes me talk to her. She is half-pleading, half-scolding me about charging her too much. I try to explain to her how Medicaid decides how much the co pay is as I am not in the habit of adding money to people’s medications to get some extra gas money. She screams something about not having $20 right now and hangs up the phone. Die, come back to life, and die again you government-tax-payer-scamming uber-B…
More to come later.
Thursday, March 18, 2010
Friday, January 15, 2010
The Cylinder Conundrum
So, NBC has really screwed the pooch on the whole Leno/Conan/Fallon thing. Conan, bless his heart, has really stepped up his monologue to stick it to executives before he forces their hand (a hand clutching $40 million dollars in contract buyout severance – Bwahahaha!). Letterman has also got in his stabs. I thought I would have a go at trying to be both pithy and clever… It seems to me that the station’s acronym should now stand for Notoriously Breaching Contracts or Now Bumping Conan. To Leno it should be Never Be Carson, or at the very least, Nothing But Chin. I know - that was lame…
Moving on to pharmacy happenings, I present one of the latest. There is a family of either druggies or dealers – we are not quite sure. They share the name of a certain three dimensional geometric figure, I will refer to them as…The Cylinders. The Cylinders purchase many of the items one would find in your local Crackheads R Us store (Vicodin, Flexeril, Adderall, Soma, Ultram, Vyvanse, etc.). Needless to say, their family medicine cabinet has a lovely rainbow of illicit drugs.
Well, the other day the younger brother calls advising me (how sweet) to contact his doctor to get a refill of tramadol. I roll my eyes, and tell the delightful minion of Satan that I will call his doctor – but merely to buy time to investigate the matter. I pull up young Cylinder’s profile and notice he filled an Rx for the very drug only one week prior, but pain medication can be written to be completely dispensed in just a few days so I pull up the prescription to have a look-see at the directions. It was “1TPOQDPP”, which I am sure you all recognize as “Take one tablet by mouth every day as needed for pain”.
It should last a month, and the little cracked-lip, throat-scratcher is asking to fill it after one week. Hell to the no! I confirm with the bearded one that we will not comply with his wishes and become the middle supplier to his drug ring. I try to call him out of combination of a little bit of courtesy and a larger bit of gloating. His number has been disconnected – big shock.
He calls back later, and our lovely “lead technician” does me the “favor” of letting Mr. Cylinder hold until I get back from the bathroom to answer his call (YAY!). I tell him we will fill his prescription when his other one runs out – next month. His reply was something like, “BLAH, BLAH, BLAH, boo-freaking-hoo, whiny-whiny-cry-cry…” “Why?” he kept asking. He then tells me he is a pharmacy technician. I manage to avoid laughing at him, crying with big, fat tears of utter amusement, dropping the phone because of moron-induced convulsions, and (finally) hitting my head on the counter and passing out. Mr. Cylinder tells me that we have to honor an order from a doctor, we cannot refuse a non-controlled prescription, and other ways of saying we are being unfair meanie-heads full of poop…
I tell him various ways of “No” for fifteen minutes before he demands to talk with the pharmacist. The bearded one also tells him “No”, and he hangs up the phone. End of dilemma…
…or not! His older brother gets a different doctor to call in cyclobenzaprine (a muscle relaxer) the next day. Unfortunately for both Cylinders, the bearded one is once again manning the counter above the narcotics safe. Senor beard-o one-o (that’s how you write it in Spanish) explained to the doctor what kind of drugs he gets and how often he gets them. The doctor changed his mind and denied any more prescriptions! The cherry on top of this drug-stuffed cake – the older brother came in to pick up his younger brother’s medicine, and we got to tell him that the doctor doesn’t want to give him any more drugs! YAY! Druggie denied!
Until next time…
Monday, January 4, 2010
Two Recollections
It has been quite awhile since my last posting. This can be mainly attributed to the numbing, soul-killing, Godless, monotony that one gets fully enveloped in by being the unwarranted recipient of the average pharmacy patron's crazy that spills forth like the contagious, viscous drool of the undead. Having to endure the ludicrous goings-on of my pharmaceutical, lake-of-fire, tends to desensitize my recognition of the truly bizarre occurrences one would normally associate as being noteworthy. This, however, had to change due to several people requesting another entry into this blog. I tried to pay close attention and weed out some interesting tidbits for all of you - and yes, I wrote "tidbits" (it's a fun word). Here are a couple of the recent activities that have illuminated just how messed up the people of this planet are:
A lady all but screaming at a co-worker for being asked to see her driver's license. Seriously, the old woman twisted up her withered, straight-out-of-The-Mummy face and hissed, "I can't believe this! I have never been asked to do this!" She transformed into some over-the-top, Disney-created villain played by some sort of nasty, cranky vulture, and then she swallowed a baby whole (in my mind at least).
Some guy called the day before leaving town to get a refill on his Valtrex. It was out of refills, so he was informed that we would have to fax the doctor for more. He went off on how he desperately needs it, the doctor's office is closed for the holidays, blah, blah, blah (shoot me). He wanted us to loan him some. The pharmacist, of course, said it was not an important, maintenance drug - so no. The guy went berserk! "How dare you tell me I can't get any! I need to take this sh*t right f*cking now..." He kept going, but I can't recall what he said because I was laughing to myself envisioning a snarling, roaring, man-bear on the phone with festering, oozing crotch-rot. Bwahahahaha! No man-bear, you should have thought about that before hooking up with some tramp you met at Moe's. It's not our fault you waited to the last possible moment to make sure you had enough antivirals for your disgusting package. Maybe suffering through an "outbreak" will teach you to stop being so myopic.
Until next time please post some comments so I know someone is reading this drivel, and nothing too mean.
Peace out...
A lady all but screaming at a co-worker for being asked to see her driver's license. Seriously, the old woman twisted up her withered, straight-out-of-The-Mummy face and hissed, "I can't believe this! I have never been asked to do this!" She transformed into some over-the-top, Disney-created villain played by some sort of nasty, cranky vulture, and then she swallowed a baby whole (in my mind at least).
Some guy called the day before leaving town to get a refill on his Valtrex. It was out of refills, so he was informed that we would have to fax the doctor for more. He went off on how he desperately needs it, the doctor's office is closed for the holidays, blah, blah, blah (shoot me). He wanted us to loan him some. The pharmacist, of course, said it was not an important, maintenance drug - so no. The guy went berserk! "How dare you tell me I can't get any! I need to take this sh*t right f*cking now..." He kept going, but I can't recall what he said because I was laughing to myself envisioning a snarling, roaring, man-bear on the phone with festering, oozing crotch-rot. Bwahahahaha! No man-bear, you should have thought about that before hooking up with some tramp you met at Moe's. It's not our fault you waited to the last possible moment to make sure you had enough antivirals for your disgusting package. Maybe suffering through an "outbreak" will teach you to stop being so myopic.
Until next time please post some comments so I know someone is reading this drivel, and nothing too mean.
Peace out...
Monday, November 16, 2009
Drive-Through Discourtesies (originally posted 8/3/09)
I seem to have developed a trend with these insightful, all-entertaining notes of mine. I noticed that I begin my amusing little gems with some sort of commentary, or at the very least a slanted take, on current news. To continue in this vein and yet to break up the monotony of it all, I will begin this note with some current sporting news (that ought to be interesting to about 3 of you).
Brett Favre announced we will not see him playing in purple this season; although, with three shots to the chest and one to the head, I suppose we can say the same thing about Steve McNair. YEAH, I WENT THERE! Michael Vick has just been reinstated by NFL Commissioner Roger Goodell after his jail-time for bankrolling a dog-fighting ring. Several teams have looked into signing him, but the most disturbing rumor I saw was that the Cleveland Browns are interested. I cannot imagine how that would go over with the "Dawg Pound" (a group of fans who dress up like dogs, complete with masks and giant, plastic bones). Maybe next he could be the spokesperson for some puppy chow or Master of Ceremony and Head Judge for the Eukanuba and American Kennel Club's Nation Championship Dog Show. HA!
Moving on...
Drive-through etiquette (written as spoken to violators):
1. Please, do not have midget arms! If you park some ungodly distance away from the window, why, Sweet Jesus, must you insist on barely sticking your hand out the window? I should not have to bend completely over and stretch out to hand you transactional items. What do you want me to do? Should I hook my feet inside the window, get a nylon rope, some Carabiners, and a belay device or two (yeah...I know about rappelling) and rappel myself down to your car for you? IS THAT WHAT YOU WANT BECAUSE I'LL DO IT! I WILL CERTAINLY DO IT, YOU SHORT-ARMED WILDEBEEST!
2. Get off the phone or I will take it and feed it to Rosie O'Donnell; she'll probably swallow it whole like she does full-grown, live cows, small children, and parts of Elizabeth Hasselbeck! I know it is a modern, electronic age, but why must your cell be perpetually connected to your head? I would not mind if you could multitask and speak to me, but you insist on plowing through your long-winded conversation with your other boring, annoying, fake friends. SO RUDE! You know you are pulling up to the pharmacy. Tell your friend you have to pick up your psycho meds, and you will call them back after being sedated.
3. Why don't you know what prescription or how many you are getting? Do not get angry when I ask you. It is a legitimate question. I am not asking you the color of your ginormous underwear (of which can be used as a makeshift parachute).
4. When I get the prescription you drop off and check to see if all your information is in the system, do not drive further so you can see. You make me feel as though I am doing something wrong. I am not flipping your prescription over and drawing a caricature of you with an arrow pointing to you saying, "RETARD!" I am certainly not looking up pornography on the internet (we do not have any internet access as all hardware and software is antiquated to the point that the guy at Goodwill would laugh at you if you tried to donate anything).
5. When I need to do something to your prescription (i.e. edit the date, add a coupon/voucher, edit the day-supply, refund...) , and tell you to go around - DO IT! DON'T BE RUDE! PEOPLE BEHIND YOU SHOULDN'T WAIT FOR SOMETHING THAT IS ALMOST ALWAYS YOU FAULT!
6. Don't be grabby! I have to run your card or get your change, so put your hand down or I will slap it. I am in a slapping mood, so do not tempt me. While I am at, I will also be slapping your horrible children - right in their spoiled, snot-covered, crying faces. Don't mind the smile, it is only because I am really enjoying it. You are a poor excuse for a parent by the way...a belt...or a fist...maybe a pillowcase full of nickles...
7. DO NOT SMOKE! DO NOT SMOKE! DO NOT SMOKE! If you choose to slowly kill yourself, I am totally cool with that, but don't come blowing smoke in my face. Not only is it unfathomably rude, I could sue you - and win for assault with a deadly weapon (look it up...). I do not need to be breathing all that crap from your cancer stick. This one really pisses me off. If you have ever seen what Michael Madsen's character does in "Reservoir Dogs" with a cigarette...if only...
8. You are on Medicaid - fine. You roll up in your BMW with 22''s or a fully loaded Altima (still a $35,000 car) and get crazy in my face - we have a problem. The taxpayers are paying for your prescription (me included). This certainly does not entitle you to get loud and demanding. No, you cannot demand brand. No, you cannot get a giftcard. No, I am not calling them to get them to make it $0 when it runs though as $5. You have a much better situation than I do, so I have no sympathy for you wanting all kinds of other stuff. There are plenty of people who get assistance that are honestly using funds. Quit abusing the system, and quit giving me attitude because the government has decided that for one instance it won't wipe your butt for you and pay for everything (though, clearly, you are lying about your financial situation). You are the lowest of scum on earth, and a drain on society. The banking system and real estate markets have a lot to do with the current state of the economy, but people just like you scamming and fraudulently using and abusing welfare initiatives like Medicaid are a bigger problem because that will not go away. Way to perpetuate stereotypes!
I was going to write about a crazy lady that #8 reminded me of, but now I am too pissed off to add any humor to the story.
Until next time...
Brett Favre announced we will not see him playing in purple this season; although, with three shots to the chest and one to the head, I suppose we can say the same thing about Steve McNair. YEAH, I WENT THERE! Michael Vick has just been reinstated by NFL Commissioner Roger Goodell after his jail-time for bankrolling a dog-fighting ring. Several teams have looked into signing him, but the most disturbing rumor I saw was that the Cleveland Browns are interested. I cannot imagine how that would go over with the "Dawg Pound" (a group of fans who dress up like dogs, complete with masks and giant, plastic bones). Maybe next he could be the spokesperson for some puppy chow or Master of Ceremony and Head Judge for the Eukanuba and American Kennel Club's Nation Championship Dog Show. HA!
Moving on...
Drive-through etiquette (written as spoken to violators):
1. Please, do not have midget arms! If you park some ungodly distance away from the window, why, Sweet Jesus, must you insist on barely sticking your hand out the window? I should not have to bend completely over and stretch out to hand you transactional items. What do you want me to do? Should I hook my feet inside the window, get a nylon rope, some Carabiners, and a belay device or two (yeah...I know about rappelling) and rappel myself down to your car for you? IS THAT WHAT YOU WANT BECAUSE I'LL DO IT! I WILL CERTAINLY DO IT, YOU SHORT-ARMED WILDEBEEST!
2. Get off the phone or I will take it and feed it to Rosie O'Donnell; she'll probably swallow it whole like she does full-grown, live cows, small children, and parts of Elizabeth Hasselbeck! I know it is a modern, electronic age, but why must your cell be perpetually connected to your head? I would not mind if you could multitask and speak to me, but you insist on plowing through your long-winded conversation with your other boring, annoying, fake friends. SO RUDE! You know you are pulling up to the pharmacy. Tell your friend you have to pick up your psycho meds, and you will call them back after being sedated.
3. Why don't you know what prescription or how many you are getting? Do not get angry when I ask you. It is a legitimate question. I am not asking you the color of your ginormous underwear (of which can be used as a makeshift parachute).
4. When I get the prescription you drop off and check to see if all your information is in the system, do not drive further so you can see. You make me feel as though I am doing something wrong. I am not flipping your prescription over and drawing a caricature of you with an arrow pointing to you saying, "RETARD!" I am certainly not looking up pornography on the internet (we do not have any internet access as all hardware and software is antiquated to the point that the guy at Goodwill would laugh at you if you tried to donate anything).
5. When I need to do something to your prescription (i.e. edit the date, add a coupon/voucher, edit the day-supply, refund...) , and tell you to go around - DO IT! DON'T BE RUDE! PEOPLE BEHIND YOU SHOULDN'T WAIT FOR SOMETHING THAT IS ALMOST ALWAYS YOU FAULT!
6. Don't be grabby! I have to run your card or get your change, so put your hand down or I will slap it. I am in a slapping mood, so do not tempt me. While I am at, I will also be slapping your horrible children - right in their spoiled, snot-covered, crying faces. Don't mind the smile, it is only because I am really enjoying it. You are a poor excuse for a parent by the way...a belt...or a fist...maybe a pillowcase full of nickles...
7. DO NOT SMOKE! DO NOT SMOKE! DO NOT SMOKE! If you choose to slowly kill yourself, I am totally cool with that, but don't come blowing smoke in my face. Not only is it unfathomably rude, I could sue you - and win for assault with a deadly weapon (look it up...). I do not need to be breathing all that crap from your cancer stick. This one really pisses me off. If you have ever seen what Michael Madsen's character does in "Reservoir Dogs" with a cigarette...if only...
8. You are on Medicaid - fine. You roll up in your BMW with 22''s or a fully loaded Altima (still a $35,000 car) and get crazy in my face - we have a problem. The taxpayers are paying for your prescription (me included). This certainly does not entitle you to get loud and demanding. No, you cannot demand brand. No, you cannot get a giftcard. No, I am not calling them to get them to make it $0 when it runs though as $5. You have a much better situation than I do, so I have no sympathy for you wanting all kinds of other stuff. There are plenty of people who get assistance that are honestly using funds. Quit abusing the system, and quit giving me attitude because the government has decided that for one instance it won't wipe your butt for you and pay for everything (though, clearly, you are lying about your financial situation). You are the lowest of scum on earth, and a drain on society. The banking system and real estate markets have a lot to do with the current state of the economy, but people just like you scamming and fraudulently using and abusing welfare initiatives like Medicaid are a bigger problem because that will not go away. Way to perpetuate stereotypes!
I was going to write about a crazy lady that #8 reminded me of, but now I am too pissed off to add any humor to the story.
Until next time...
Automated Audacity (originally posted 7/14/09)
My proposal for a new, automated message and routing service when you call the pharmacy:
"Thank you for calling your friendly, 24-hour pharmacy, where we guarantee to quickly and professionally handle you prescription needs...barring any complications such as your insurance not paying pending the resolution of: prior authorizations, refills to soon, monthly limit met, a non-formulary drug, patient not covered, diagnosis code missing, invalid birthdate, invalid gender, invalid person code, invalid group, bill to primary, or any various other creative and blatant excuses for not paying...
Other complications could include but are not limited to: drug not in stock, drug not available/discontinued drug/recalled drug, missing or ambiguous drug name/quantity/strength/dispensing instructions/date of prescription/DEA number/controlled drug serial number/Prescriber's name, etc.
Please note that if you are dropping off, submitting refills online, submitting refills or on-hold prescriptions by phone, or otherwise trying to get your medications after 10PM, due to the "doctors" on staff at those hours you stand a better chance on getting your medicine in one of those machines that rolls out cheap stickers, rings, and other crap when you put a quarter in it. If you do encounter a "doctor", it is imperative you allow them to continue sleeping (they need lots of rest in order to keep up their do-nothing-at-all work ethic).
Anyways...hmmm...oh yeah, please listen carefully as our options have changed. In order to better serve you, please listen to all options before making a selection. We will then connect you to the chosen line and torture you with a continuous musical loop of cheezy, elevator music, followed by an upbeat-yet-suicidal-thought-inducing, unrecognizable classical piece, followed by a song by Aaron Neville.
To skip all processing and get a handful of Vicodin at the window in the next 3 minutes, please press 1.
To complain that the overnight people yelled at you/didn't help you/made you pray/kicked your shins/tried to eat your child/turned colors, burst into flames, and tried an aerial attack on you and your loved ones while speaking ancient Latin in a Satanic-voice/etc., please press 2.
To set up an appointment to bother the unfortunate soul at drive-through, bang on the window with the world's smallest and therefore most useless umbrella, complain that you will urinate on yourself, and peel of like a drunken frat-boy, please press 3.
To transfer your prescription in or out to take advantage of the coupon/gift card system, please press 4.
To ask one of the pharmacy staff why your doctor keeps prescribing anti-psychotics, please press 5.
To ask why your bag is too big and find out if it is, indeed, your prostate, please press 6.
To have us order the most vain medication in the world, the eyelash grower Latisse, please press 7.
If you are an airhead nurse from a doctors office, and wish to call in a prescription where you either talk too fast, refuse to spell out weird patient names, completely mess up the prescription, or otherwise solidify yourself as a disgrace to the other competent and knowledgeable people of your profession, please press 8.
If you would like us to flavor eye/ear drops, suppositories, creams/lotions/gels, tablets/capsules/caplets, or IUD's, please press 9.
If you look like a hooker/crackhead/drug dealer/psycho and would like us to fill promethazine with codeine or any other controlled substance, please hang up or go to Walgreen's.
To repeat the options, please press the star key (*)."
What do you think?
"Thank you for calling your friendly, 24-hour pharmacy, where we guarantee to quickly and professionally handle you prescription needs...barring any complications such as your insurance not paying pending the resolution of: prior authorizations, refills to soon, monthly limit met, a non-formulary drug, patient not covered, diagnosis code missing, invalid birthdate, invalid gender, invalid person code, invalid group, bill to primary, or any various other creative and blatant excuses for not paying...
Other complications could include but are not limited to: drug not in stock, drug not available/discontinued drug/recalled drug, missing or ambiguous drug name/quantity/strength/dispensing instructions/date of prescription/DEA number/controlled drug serial number/Prescriber's name, etc.
Please note that if you are dropping off, submitting refills online, submitting refills or on-hold prescriptions by phone, or otherwise trying to get your medications after 10PM, due to the "doctors" on staff at those hours you stand a better chance on getting your medicine in one of those machines that rolls out cheap stickers, rings, and other crap when you put a quarter in it. If you do encounter a "doctor", it is imperative you allow them to continue sleeping (they need lots of rest in order to keep up their do-nothing-at-all work ethic).
Anyways...hmmm...oh yeah, please listen carefully as our options have changed. In order to better serve you, please listen to all options before making a selection. We will then connect you to the chosen line and torture you with a continuous musical loop of cheezy, elevator music, followed by an upbeat-yet-suicidal-thought-inducing, unrecognizable classical piece, followed by a song by Aaron Neville.
To skip all processing and get a handful of Vicodin at the window in the next 3 minutes, please press 1.
To complain that the overnight people yelled at you/didn't help you/made you pray/kicked your shins/tried to eat your child/turned colors, burst into flames, and tried an aerial attack on you and your loved ones while speaking ancient Latin in a Satanic-voice/etc., please press 2.
To set up an appointment to bother the unfortunate soul at drive-through, bang on the window with the world's smallest and therefore most useless umbrella, complain that you will urinate on yourself, and peel of like a drunken frat-boy, please press 3.
To transfer your prescription in or out to take advantage of the coupon/gift card system, please press 4.
To ask one of the pharmacy staff why your doctor keeps prescribing anti-psychotics, please press 5.
To ask why your bag is too big and find out if it is, indeed, your prostate, please press 6.
To have us order the most vain medication in the world, the eyelash grower Latisse, please press 7.
If you are an airhead nurse from a doctors office, and wish to call in a prescription where you either talk too fast, refuse to spell out weird patient names, completely mess up the prescription, or otherwise solidify yourself as a disgrace to the other competent and knowledgeable people of your profession, please press 8.
If you would like us to flavor eye/ear drops, suppositories, creams/lotions/gels, tablets/capsules/caplets, or IUD's, please press 9.
If you look like a hooker/crackhead/drug dealer/psycho and would like us to fill promethazine with codeine or any other controlled substance, please hang up or go to Walgreen's.
To repeat the options, please press the star key (*)."
What do you think?
Incontinence and Indignation (originally posted 6/26/09)
The Iranians can stop protesting...I have finally decided to post again! With the "King of Pop" kicking the proverbial bucket this week (some reports say from our good friend in the pharmacy world - the opioid narcotic, Demerol), the self-proclaimed "King of Expressing How Very Soul-Sucking and Bursting-Little-Capillaries-In-My-Head-Inducing Working in a Pharmacy Happens to Be" felt I should rattle off some details of oddities from the month hiatus.
Umbrella-Woman:
So, I am at the drive-through (it's "through" not "thru" - don't be lazy). An older lady with no neck (you know - one of those head-directly-on-the-sternum types) pulls up and tells me her name. GOOD FOR YOU, WHAT DO YOU WANT? She says her prescription is ready. I look it up. NOPE! I finally locate her script in the section where we put drugs that need to be ordered. GREAT, SHE'S GOING TO EAT ME WHEN SHE FINDS OUT WE DON'T HAVE HER DRUGS. I inform her that we are ordering her drug and she can get it tomorrow after 4pm, or I can call another store and see if they have it. Her ginormous eyes well up and she says she is going out of town, cannot wait, and needs her drug so she won't (drum roll please...) "pee on herself". ON THE INSIDE I HAVE ALREADY PASSED OUT FROM LAUGHING TOO MUCH AND BREATHING TOO LITTLE! I notice that it was ordered 2 days ago and should be in already, so I go look for it. I find it, and tell her I will fill her Rx right away. There is a beaming smile from no-neck lady. I run it through her insurance and get a rejection. AWESOME! I call the insurance to find out what is wrong. They tell me she has to order by mail.
Then, it happens...
She presses the button to make that annoying automated man scream that there is a drive-through! A colleague (who has foolishly decided to work for CVS as soon as she gets her license) goes to open the door. I stop her and tell her that since the lady has now pissed me off, she has to wait until I am ready for her.
It gets worse...
Next I hear this freaking mastodon banging on the window with one of those tiny, compact umbrellas. First thing that comes to mind is, "who in the hell thinks an umbrella with a 7-inch diameter is going to protect them from the rain?" Then, in a blind fury, I whip open the window. Her eyes got so wide I thought they were just going to keep expanding and completely engulf her entire head. I tell her mockingly, "Thanks for being so patient. I ran it through your insurance, and they are not going to pay for it." She goes into this rambling tirade about "how dare you not give me my prescription"...blah, blah, blah... (I start daydreaming about her giant body rolling over her poor SUV...) I tell her that all I was trying to convey to her was that her insurance was not going to pay for it. I tell her she is free to pay out-of-pocket or take her Rx elsewhere. She yells that she will pay for it. I inform her of the price, and she starts yelling that she didn't want a full month supply, only enough for a week until her mail-order arrives. I WILL STAB YOU WITH A PEN! I told her that was fine, and that all she had to do was to tell me that was her intention all along. I DO NOT KNOW YOUR WHOLE STORY UNLESS YOU TELL ME SEA-COW!!! She says that I didn't ask! I re-run her prescription for a week supply, and send her on her way while the bearded pharmacist laughs in spite of me.
Moral of this story - incontinence makes people (neck or no neck) extremely irritable. This is yet another example of why I can't wait to get through school and get a real job. Even if I must deal with the same people as a doctor, at least I will be making a substantial amount more and have a license to kill anyone who pisses me off too much.
Until next time...
Umbrella-Woman:
So, I am at the drive-through (it's "through" not "thru" - don't be lazy). An older lady with no neck (you know - one of those head-directly-on-the-sternum types) pulls up and tells me her name. GOOD FOR YOU, WHAT DO YOU WANT? She says her prescription is ready. I look it up. NOPE! I finally locate her script in the section where we put drugs that need to be ordered. GREAT, SHE'S GOING TO EAT ME WHEN SHE FINDS OUT WE DON'T HAVE HER DRUGS. I inform her that we are ordering her drug and she can get it tomorrow after 4pm, or I can call another store and see if they have it. Her ginormous eyes well up and she says she is going out of town, cannot wait, and needs her drug so she won't (drum roll please...) "pee on herself". ON THE INSIDE I HAVE ALREADY PASSED OUT FROM LAUGHING TOO MUCH AND BREATHING TOO LITTLE! I notice that it was ordered 2 days ago and should be in already, so I go look for it. I find it, and tell her I will fill her Rx right away. There is a beaming smile from no-neck lady. I run it through her insurance and get a rejection. AWESOME! I call the insurance to find out what is wrong. They tell me she has to order by mail.
Then, it happens...
She presses the button to make that annoying automated man scream that there is a drive-through! A colleague (who has foolishly decided to work for CVS as soon as she gets her license) goes to open the door. I stop her and tell her that since the lady has now pissed me off, she has to wait until I am ready for her.
It gets worse...
Next I hear this freaking mastodon banging on the window with one of those tiny, compact umbrellas. First thing that comes to mind is, "who in the hell thinks an umbrella with a 7-inch diameter is going to protect them from the rain?" Then, in a blind fury, I whip open the window. Her eyes got so wide I thought they were just going to keep expanding and completely engulf her entire head. I tell her mockingly, "Thanks for being so patient. I ran it through your insurance, and they are not going to pay for it." She goes into this rambling tirade about "how dare you not give me my prescription"...blah, blah, blah... (I start daydreaming about her giant body rolling over her poor SUV...) I tell her that all I was trying to convey to her was that her insurance was not going to pay for it. I tell her she is free to pay out-of-pocket or take her Rx elsewhere. She yells that she will pay for it. I inform her of the price, and she starts yelling that she didn't want a full month supply, only enough for a week until her mail-order arrives. I WILL STAB YOU WITH A PEN! I told her that was fine, and that all she had to do was to tell me that was her intention all along. I DO NOT KNOW YOUR WHOLE STORY UNLESS YOU TELL ME SEA-COW!!! She says that I didn't ask! I re-run her prescription for a week supply, and send her on her way while the bearded pharmacist laughs in spite of me.
Moral of this story - incontinence makes people (neck or no neck) extremely irritable. This is yet another example of why I can't wait to get through school and get a real job. Even if I must deal with the same people as a doctor, at least I will be making a substantial amount more and have a license to kill anyone who pisses me off too much.
Until next time...
Weirdos at the Window (originally posted 5/28/09)
Prepare yourselves for a long post, and try not to urinate on yourself from the over-stimulating excitement. I think this will be the best one yet!
Job Description:
I have come to the realization that my position in the pharmacy exists for only three reasons. Now, of course, I will list those reasons for comic effect and to inform you, my loyal readers of how often I think about going on a 3-month lunch break (picture me running with my arms flailing about and screaming nonsensical words like those dirty, dirty homeless people on every corner of Katy begging for money and dreaming about the next time they can get their filthy hands on a cat to beat with a stolen wire hanger...).
Reason 1: To put up with our most- likely mentally impaired District Loss Prevention Manager (with her fake name and fake gender), our ridiculous PCI program (here's a good idea - let's print lists of people to annoy, and make sure we time the phone call), and our "Doctors" (armed with prayer and a license to kill).
Reason 2: To hand out Soma, Vicodin, Darvocet, Celebrex, and various other pain meds to addicts. Hand out Ambien and Lunesta to people whining about not getting to sleep. To hand out Lexapro, Prozac, Zoloft, and Paxil for the crybabies who are so very sad...boo-freaking-hoo. To hand out Vyvanse, Adderall, Ritalin, and Strattera to people's spaz kids (how about telling your damn kids to behave or get a hand to the freaking face).
Reason 3: To stand their while irate "patients" proceed to ear-rape me with some prolonged Dr. Coxian-rant about blah, blah, blah, I'm not listening and daydreaming about using a Taser on your fat face!
Anywho,
Flare-up at the drive-through:
A certain person pulls up to the window with their certain same-sex "special friend". Since I have become the apparent heir to the pharmacy piss-on position who must get practically every pick-up (you all know who I am passively aggressively talking to!), I get the great honor of benefiting from being present to record one of the most God-awful, vulgarity-infused rants of all time. The guy (and HIS guy) wants to pick up an Rx of a certain opiate pain-killer that rhymes with morphine sulfate (an exact rhyme). Only the Pharmacy Manager can order this classification of drugs, and our supplier was unable to deliver it - in short, we do not have it. The following quote is as best as I can remember:
"You know, this is f#cking bullsh!t. I had her order that sh!t a f#cking month ago! I need it every month! I told her to order a 6-month supply. I know it's not your fault; you've always been very helpful. You need to tell (name excluded) to get off her @ss, and order the sh!t I tell her to order! You need to call every CVS, HEB, and Walgreens and find someone who has it! I better have this done in two hours! I got shorted 7 days of this sh!t last month. Don't make me call Roger (name not excluded) and the corporate office. You have one f#cking hour! Tell (name excluded) that she needs to stop sitting on her @ss! I shouldn't have to go to three or four pharmacies! I've spent $27,000 at this pharmacy..."
I sent him to Walgreens. Then, I searched for some aloe vera with lidocaine to soothe by sunburns on my arms and face from his epic flare-up. Every time this guy comes up to the pharmacy he has to complain about something (I've paid $4,000 - why is there a copay?). I see him and I automatically think about the Human Torch from the Fantastic Four. FLAME ON! I pictured the guy spontaneously combusting and lighting the whole van on fire. That would be awesome! Nothing against his chosen lifestyle, it just adds an entirely new facet of hilariousness to every episode. By the way, it would take me about a year and a half to earn $27,000.
Antifungal fiasco:
A rather large lady hands me a script at my FAVORITE PLACE IN THE WORLD (the drive-through window. It's for an antifungal cream. Super! I get her DOB and ask her when she would like to pick it up (even though it's going to be an hour wait anyway). She asks how long it would take. An hour. She makes some sort of under-the-breath remark about how incredibly long an hour is (by the looks of her - about how long she can nurse a plate of an entire family of chickens - most likely still alive and squawking for dear life). Anyway, I tell her I will see her in an hour. Woo-hoo...
By the time she comes back (ten minutes or 1.83 poor, poor chickens later), I was typing an Rx for some random addict who is drooling and waiting for their hydrocododones - I'll stop there on that tangent. A certain colleague from a country that rhymes with Egypt is searching for a hardcopy of a script whilst talking on the phone to someone. Lo and behold - it's Little Miss Yeasty! He inquires about something, but I don't know what he's talking about. He says she's at the window and on the phone. I hang up the phone. I go over to the window, and ask her what she needs. She wants to know if we will price-patch Walmart. NO!
"How much is it going to be?"
"Well, I don't know, you have insurance don't you?"
"Yeah"
"I guess it will be whatever you normally pay for a generic."
"How much is that?"
CHRIST! I look at her profile. "It should be $10."
"Well, fine! Is anyone working on it? Is it ready?!"
"Well, since it's only been ten minutes (no mention of chickens to her face), it has not been completed yet. It will be about another 40 minutes. I'm sorry about the wait time."
"I don't understand why it takes so long. It comes in a box!"
I'LL PUT YOU IN A BOX! "It's not about how easy it is to process, it is the fact that there are at least 50 people in front of you."
"Now I remember why I usually go to Walmart!" She says this before racing off. I decide it is lunch time (I feel like chicken for some reason).
Now someone definitely has a note in their profile that reads "BIZNATCH!!!!" every time we look at her file. The best way to take advantage of Walmart's $4 generic plan is to ACTUALLY GO TO WALMART! I wanted to inform this chicken-masticating, whale of a woman that they invented a substance in Babylon about 5,000 years ago that consists mainly of lye, fat, and ash that will protect one from the horrible fate of the yeast infection - it's called SOAP! BUY SOME - USE IT! This would have stopped this bizarre chain of events from playing out in front of me.
Until next time...
Job Description:
I have come to the realization that my position in the pharmacy exists for only three reasons. Now, of course, I will list those reasons for comic effect and to inform you, my loyal readers of how often I think about going on a 3-month lunch break (picture me running with my arms flailing about and screaming nonsensical words like those dirty, dirty homeless people on every corner of Katy begging for money and dreaming about the next time they can get their filthy hands on a cat to beat with a stolen wire hanger...).
Reason 1: To put up with our most- likely mentally impaired District Loss Prevention Manager (with her fake name and fake gender), our ridiculous PCI program (here's a good idea - let's print lists of people to annoy, and make sure we time the phone call), and our "Doctors" (armed with prayer and a license to kill).
Reason 2: To hand out Soma, Vicodin, Darvocet, Celebrex, and various other pain meds to addicts. Hand out Ambien and Lunesta to people whining about not getting to sleep. To hand out Lexapro, Prozac, Zoloft, and Paxil for the crybabies who are so very sad...boo-freaking-hoo. To hand out Vyvanse, Adderall, Ritalin, and Strattera to people's spaz kids (how about telling your damn kids to behave or get a hand to the freaking face).
Reason 3: To stand their while irate "patients" proceed to ear-rape me with some prolonged Dr. Coxian-rant about blah, blah, blah, I'm not listening and daydreaming about using a Taser on your fat face!
Anywho,
Flare-up at the drive-through:
A certain person pulls up to the window with their certain same-sex "special friend". Since I have become the apparent heir to the pharmacy piss-on position who must get practically every pick-up (you all know who I am passively aggressively talking to!), I get the great honor of benefiting from being present to record one of the most God-awful, vulgarity-infused rants of all time. The guy (and HIS guy) wants to pick up an Rx of a certain opiate pain-killer that rhymes with morphine sulfate (an exact rhyme). Only the Pharmacy Manager can order this classification of drugs, and our supplier was unable to deliver it - in short, we do not have it. The following quote is as best as I can remember:
"You know, this is f#cking bullsh!t. I had her order that sh!t a f#cking month ago! I need it every month! I told her to order a 6-month supply. I know it's not your fault; you've always been very helpful. You need to tell (name excluded) to get off her @ss, and order the sh!t I tell her to order! You need to call every CVS, HEB, and Walgreens and find someone who has it! I better have this done in two hours! I got shorted 7 days of this sh!t last month. Don't make me call Roger (name not excluded) and the corporate office. You have one f#cking hour! Tell (name excluded) that she needs to stop sitting on her @ss! I shouldn't have to go to three or four pharmacies! I've spent $27,000 at this pharmacy..."
I sent him to Walgreens. Then, I searched for some aloe vera with lidocaine to soothe by sunburns on my arms and face from his epic flare-up. Every time this guy comes up to the pharmacy he has to complain about something (I've paid $4,000 - why is there a copay?). I see him and I automatically think about the Human Torch from the Fantastic Four. FLAME ON! I pictured the guy spontaneously combusting and lighting the whole van on fire. That would be awesome! Nothing against his chosen lifestyle, it just adds an entirely new facet of hilariousness to every episode. By the way, it would take me about a year and a half to earn $27,000.
Antifungal fiasco:
A rather large lady hands me a script at my FAVORITE PLACE IN THE WORLD (the drive-through window. It's for an antifungal cream. Super! I get her DOB and ask her when she would like to pick it up (even though it's going to be an hour wait anyway). She asks how long it would take. An hour. She makes some sort of under-the-breath remark about how incredibly long an hour is (by the looks of her - about how long she can nurse a plate of an entire family of chickens - most likely still alive and squawking for dear life). Anyway, I tell her I will see her in an hour. Woo-hoo...
By the time she comes back (ten minutes or 1.83 poor, poor chickens later), I was typing an Rx for some random addict who is drooling and waiting for their hydrocododones - I'll stop there on that tangent. A certain colleague from a country that rhymes with Egypt is searching for a hardcopy of a script whilst talking on the phone to someone. Lo and behold - it's Little Miss Yeasty! He inquires about something, but I don't know what he's talking about. He says she's at the window and on the phone. I hang up the phone. I go over to the window, and ask her what she needs. She wants to know if we will price-patch Walmart. NO!
"How much is it going to be?"
"Well, I don't know, you have insurance don't you?"
"Yeah"
"I guess it will be whatever you normally pay for a generic."
"How much is that?"
CHRIST! I look at her profile. "It should be $10."
"Well, fine! Is anyone working on it? Is it ready?!"
"Well, since it's only been ten minutes (no mention of chickens to her face), it has not been completed yet. It will be about another 40 minutes. I'm sorry about the wait time."
"I don't understand why it takes so long. It comes in a box!"
I'LL PUT YOU IN A BOX! "It's not about how easy it is to process, it is the fact that there are at least 50 people in front of you."
"Now I remember why I usually go to Walmart!" She says this before racing off. I decide it is lunch time (I feel like chicken for some reason).
Now someone definitely has a note in their profile that reads "BIZNATCH!!!!" every time we look at her file. The best way to take advantage of Walmart's $4 generic plan is to ACTUALLY GO TO WALMART! I wanted to inform this chicken-masticating, whale of a woman that they invented a substance in Babylon about 5,000 years ago that consists mainly of lye, fat, and ash that will protect one from the horrible fate of the yeast infection - it's called SOAP! BUY SOME - USE IT! This would have stopped this bizarre chain of events from playing out in front of me.
Until next time...
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