It’s been a while.
… but I’m back with a couple of lovely pharmacy stories, and some running stuff, and life in general.
I believe that I also said that I was going to rip her weave out.
The pharmacy has been… just what you could expect my little ghetto pharmacy to be like. Last week, OtherRPh was on vacation and we had a floater. This is the same floater we had a few months ago who spent the majority of the time at work tossing her cookies in the bathroom and sitting in the corner with her head on the counter or reading and texting. Turns out she actually is pregnant; no one would have guessed that, right? So this floater decides that she’s going to do the absolute bare minimum required to keep her job, which, to her anyway, boils down to checking drug interactions and not killing anyone. However, she seems to think that she’s exempt from all other pharmacy duties, such as interacting with customers.
At one point, she walked from the pharmacist computer, towards the register, told the customer who was standing there to pick up their order “We’ll be right with you,” and then continued one to the little corner where she likes to sit and do nothing (which is right near the register and in plain view of everyone) and proceeded to sit there and text message someone. She got into at least 3 arguments with me, one of which was over the fact that BossRPh had left her a note politely asking that when she hangs up patient orders to please make sure that they are alphabetized.
Yesterday, I wasn’t in the store for more than 45 minutes before we’d had our share of excitement for the day. First, one of our regulars stopped in to drop off her script for methadone. Then, she walks the 3′ to the left of the drop-off window, grabs a pregnancy test and brings it up to the front registers. She pays for it and asks, “K, I really have to pee, can I just use the bathroom and take the test while I’m in there?” Since she is a regular and isn’t totally sketchy, she’s let into the bowels of the store to use the employee bathroom. Sure enough, 5 minutes later she comes out of the back with a slightly panic-stricken look and says, “I just found out that I’m pregnant in your bathroom.”
Here’s where I direct you to the beginning of the last paragraph where I wrote “dropped off her script for methadone.” Yeah. I can see this will end well.
Not ten minutes later, two men came into the store. I’m assuming that one of them didn’t speak English, because his friend did all the talking. The one who did speak English came up to us and said, “My friend here, he had an accident.” At this point, the friend starts rolling up his sleeve. “He… has a scratch. Is there any cream he can put on it?”
I honestly have no idea how BossRPH managed to avoid visibly recoiling at the wound she was shown. I assume that it was something similar to the scene in Monty Python and The Holy Grail where the Black Knight gets a limb chopped off and tells King Arthur “it’s only a flesh wound.” I didn’t see it, but she told the two guys “That’s not a scratch. That needs stitches. I can see the fat under his skin. He needs to go to the doctor and get that looked at and stitched up.”
“So no cream?”
No, my scraped up friend, no cream.
Alice goes dark.
Last night, we went out to a local bar for their Halloween festivities. Loads of fun. On Thursday night we went out to look for Halloween costume things. I found something that I liked, but didn’t feel like standing in line all night to try it on, so I ditched the skanky ladybug costume and told ','caption', 'My fantastic husband' );">Eddie that I need a long, dark wig and a butcher knife. With a little recycling of my Alice costume from 2 years ago, I did a pretty decent version of American McGee’s Alice. My hair wasn’t straight and center parted and my boots were white and not black, but the blood spatter and knife made the curly brown hair and outfit seem even darker, since I seemed more like an Alice who just went crazy.
Curiouser and curiouser.
While we were there, a guy came in dressed as the Mad Hatter. After a little while he came over to where we were sitting and asked ','caption', 'My fantastic husband' );">Eddie if I was his girlfriend, and if he could get a picture with me.
“My girlfriend didn’t want to be Alice,” he said. “I need at least one picture with an Alice.”
