No iPhone For You!

"I was wondering if you could possibly spot me enough of my meds for a week cause I won't have the money for my co-pays until I get paid next week."

An innocuous question, no?

I'm sure most of you are thinking that it is a completely unreasonable request and, as pharmacists, we should see no issue with heeding her request.

Which would be true... unless you had a bit more information.

First, the total amount on her seven medication was $1. I'm pretty sure there is enough change in my couch to total a buck.

Second, she asked this while her blinged-out iPhone 4 sat on our counter. A quick glance at said phone showed numerous pages of apps and, from what I could see on the page showing, numerous paid apps.

Knowing this, does your answer change?

Apparently this person, and many others, can fork over money for a pointless app which makes a farting nose for their phone, but they don't have the dollar for the medications which help keep them alive?

Does anyone else see the issue with this?

Look, I know what it's like not to have money, I live with it every day. I put off buying new shoes for over year until I could not glue or tape them anymore. Why? Because we needed that money for bills, diapers and other necessities.

It was not absolutely required to live, so I did not purchase it. Being able to provide basic needs should supersede any other frivolous spending at all times.

I don't care if someone splurges on themselves every once in a while and, in fact, it can be a good thing. But when you do so at the expense of your basic needs which may harm you, or others, what the hell is the point?

The better question is how we can let low-income individuals, whom for various reasons the public is supporting, be allowed to sign expensive phone contracts or fill said phones of paid apps? How is that fiscally responsible? They can't pay more than a dollar for their medications, but they can pay over $100/month for their iPhone.

Too often in today we rely on others to fix our own problems. We "pass the buck" far far too often and do not take responsibility for our actions.

And it's sad to see.

Ultimately the pharmacist decided not to spot her any of her medications partially for the reasons I mentioned and partially because this is a regular occurrence with said patient. There is only so much charity and hand holding we can do before the patient needs to stand up for themselves.

Cruel? Perhaps. Unprofessional? Maybe. Except for when she came back an hour later and paid with a crisp $20 bill.

Funny how that works.

Need Some Medicaid for your Escalade?

A lively Twitter debate has sparked a collection of data, formulated into a highly non-scientific study. The results are as follows.

Note: To curb some of the hate mail I've been receiving, I encourage you to check out this link. It may prove useful before getting one's panties in a bunch.

Abstract

There is a direct correlation between the drivers of Cadillac Escalades, especially when they are black and possessing rims, and their reliance upon state sponsored Medicaid when visiting a pharmacy. That correlation provides an example of not only the faults of the system, but the manner in which discretionary income is disproportionately spent on frivolous purchases, like an Escalade, over supporting their family.

An example of the type of vehicle in question

Introduction

First, we must clarify some otherwise stereotypical notions regarding individuals on Medicaid. This is not intended to judge those who use the system as it was designed. Individuals who are disabled, in the midst of transitional phase in their life or simply hard on their luck are not sought by this study.

Additionally, this does not seek to single out the Medicaid patient who may have given themselves the rare gift of a nice manicure or any other small piece of joy in an otherwise stressful life. Every person is entitled to spoil themselves at least occasionally.

No, this study seeks to identify those patients who appear to be abusing the system. Those who come to the pharmacy in repeatedly extravagant purchases, often times owning items beyond the means of the people who work in the pharmacy.

Data

Data was collected across a six day period over two separate pharmacy locations. Each location possesses a high percentage of Medicaid based clientele and a propensity for playing extremely shitty music overhead.

As such, fourteen (n =14) Escalades were either noticed at the pharmacy’s drive-thru or were noticed as being the patients vehicle at the pharmacy. A careful analysis of this number of data points combined with noted actions while in the store, including their insurance, provided the following results.

• Number of Patients meeting criteria: 14
• Number of said patients driving Escalades: 14
• Number of non-Medicaid patients driving Escalades: 0

Further analysis concluded that there is indeed a 100% probability of a patient being insured by Medicaid if they drive an Escalade, even truer if it is black in color with blinged out rims.

Every study needs a complicated graph. Look at the pretty colors!

Discussion

In noting these patients it became abundantly clear that there were other useful bits of information to be gathered. On average, the patient would bring three unruly children into the store. There was almost always an excessively jeweled up iPhone in their hand, the majority of which they had pressed firmly to their ear while at the counter.

In three instances the phrase, “My baby’s daddy…” was heard uttered during the conversation. The phrase, “I ain’t got my check for the month,” was used twice as a reasoning for not wanting to pay the one dollar copay.

While it is impossible to delve into the specifics of each individual’s personal and financial situation, it is possible to derive a perhaps improper spending of funds based upon their visible purchases. Not having a dollar for your son’s asthma medication could easily have been avoided if you were not driving around in a vehicle which most likely costs twice what you earn in a year.

Other high priced vehicles, Lincoln Navigators, BMWs, etc, were noted but did not meet any of the criteria sought in this study.

Conclusion

This non-scientific study has confirmed that if a patient arrives at a pharmacy in an Escalade, they will be an irresponsible Medicaid patient. Little can be done with this knowledge other than to provide an example as to how to not use the system. In addition, pharmacists and pharmacy technicians can use this visual cue to prepare for the highly probable flood of bullshit that will gush from the patients month.

One of the god fathers of the blinged out Cadillac Escalade phenomenon

The Tale of the Rogue Shitter

“Do you have a tissue?”

A seemingly innocuous question, especially considering the time of the year.

“No,” I replied. “Walmart generally doesn’t let us keep tissues here for public use.”

She nodded, I finished checking her out, and she calmly walked away.

Looking up to the next woman in line, I notice an expression of confusion and slight terror in her eyes.

“Can I help you?” I ask.

She stammers, “Is that… is that shit?”

Perplexed I leaned over the counter to see what she was pointing at. There, on the normally sparking white floor, was a smeared brown mass leading away from the register. Trailing away from the smear proper were clear footprints with a small Nike symbol emblazoned upon them.

Quickly, I begin to analyze my encounter with the previous customer. There was a hint of tequila on her breath… did she stammer? What else did she buy? Was she wearing a dress?... Yes she was, a black and white floral print dress.

Why did she ask for a tissue? Oh wait…

The woman in line quickly steers her cart to another line while I block off my lane. I beckon for the CSMs to come to my area. Needless to say we are taught how to handle all sorts of spills, but human feces is not one of them.

“What… is that chocolate ice cream?” asks my perplexed CSM. When I state what I believe it to be she quickly asks, “Should we smell it?”

Should we smell it? You didn’t need to smell it. There was the typical corn kernel present, the ultimate calling card of feces on the floor.

If there even is such a thing.

How you can casually walk away from such an event I will never know. And to knowingly track it all the way out the door on top of it. In some twisted way, I'm impressed she maintained her composure, although now I know why she was exceptionally polite to me.

It’s also a good thing for her she chose to go commando that day. It was, however, not a good thing for us that she chose to go commando that day.

Moral of the story is when you gotta go, just go on the floor. Everyone likes a surprise.

The Dark Side of Pharmacy

As the sun covered the ground with its rays in an attempt to perpetrate the first warm day of the year, we sat plugging along in the pharmacy. It was a typical day, nothing out of the ordinary.

Lunch came and went. The order came and went. Soon it was about three o'clock and we successfully filled over 200 prescriptions. For the time being, there was nothing in the queue so we all took a chance to relax and enjoy the peace and quiet.

Out of the corner of my eye I saw the young girl in the hoodie come through the back door of the pharmacy. It was nothing unusual for this time of year and I paid no attention to it. In the midst of discussing the some random fact I heard a voice murmur,

"I'm so sorry."

I looked towards the direction of that voice, which just so happened to be directly in front of our consultation window. There stood the girl in the hoodie with my manager. And a knife pressed to her neck.

"Here," she said and handed me a piece of paper. Hastfully scribbled in blue ink on that crumpled piece of paper said the following words:

Give me all of your Oxycontin and no one gets hurt. Do not call the police.

I looked up to our pharmacist, our eyes locked and he immediately knew what was wanted. Sadly, this was not his first time in this situation.

Together we walked over to our controls cabinet, unlocked it, and began emptying the requested bottles into a white sack. No words were spoken. No words needed to be spoken.

He stayed back to relock the cabinet as I carried the sack towards the window. The girl still stood there, her hands shaking. As I gave her the bag she slowly walked backwards, my manager still in hand. A few feet back from the counter she pushed her away and darted out the door.

Out of instinct I flew out of the pharmacy after her. I wasn't thinking of what I would do, it was just a reaction. By the time I ran out the door she was in a car speeding away.

Walking back into the pharmacy everyone was frozen. I stepped back into the pharmacy and hit our silent alarm. From some direction, to this day I do not know who said it, came the phrase,

"What the fuck."

The whole experience was slightly surreal, almost as if you have stepped back and are watching a movie of yourself. Adrenaline kicks in and saves you from completely breaking down... at least at that moment.

Why do I share this?

So often we share stories about addicts and crazy customers and do so in humorous tone. The thing is, some of them are really not all that humorous. It's merely a way to cope with what we see on a daily basis.

As cliche as it may sound, that day a part of me died. The innocent part that still believed things of that nature did not really occur. It was almost as if part of the joy I see in the world died a little bit that day.

Now when ever I see someone with a hoodie pulled up over their head, the hairs on the back of my neck stand up. It's almost an innate response now. Little quirks that previously were ignored are now highlighted with the possibility of a repeat occurrence.

It is really funny how something like that can change you. It's one of the few experiences that I really do not find any humor at all.

Why haven't I told this story after having this blog for well over two years and over 300 posts? I really have no idea. Why do I share this story now? In prepping for an upcoming interview one of the questions asked, "Name a moment in which you excelled in a difficult situation."

Honestly the only answer I can think of is that day. After the event I spent the next three hours defusing various aspects of the situation. That included driving to the location where the police eventually found them and identifying them.

There is something insanely sobering about sitting in the back of a police car when they remove another person, with guns drawn, in order for you to identify them. Especially when you considered what you just witnessed mere hours ago.

It was the only time in my life I have ever felt truly proud of how I conducted myself. And its the only time that completely answers that question.

I guess the real reason I've decided to finally share this is so that those of you who do visit this blog realize that it is not always fun and games behind the pharmacy counter. Sure we can joke about situations, but in the end not everything is truly as humorous as it seems.

That kind of goes against everything I believe in as a person. Ironic is it not?

Oh You Think You're Sneaky...

I really hate when patients try to outsmart us. Do they not realize that you have to have at least some semblance of intelligence in order to become a pharmacist? I would think, at least I would like to think, that the crackhead's, who just stumbled in the door, brain pan is slightly smaller than our pharmacist.

So why try to be sneaky?

My favorite lately is when a customer calls in and asks, "So I need a refill on my Hydrocodone and stuff. Can you tell me when the last time I had it filled was?"

or

"Hey I lost my bottle for my Hydrocodone again, could you refill it for me?"

First off, the 90 year old Alzheimers patient manages to not lose her bottles every month. Do you really expect me to believe a 25 year old man is incapable of holding on to one bottle for a month? I'm not fuckin dumb man.

Why not just say, "Hey, my rent is coming due and I need to sell me some Hydrocodone to make it."

Actually I can infer that's what you really mean when you attempt to skirt the truth. The profile with nine different docs in three months kinda helps to confirm that.

Or there is always, "I was calling to see if my Sertraline is ready... ok... oh before I forget, is my Darvocet there as well?"

It's kind of like when people come into buy syringes. The stores you hear are absolutely spectacular.

"Yeah I need 1,000 cc syringes because, like my cat... my cat yo has polio and uh... I have to give it shots of this stuff which uh... ya know keeps that bitch from dying?"

And I totally understand that statement... because I just shit out a fleet of dragons and named them after members of The Beatles.

The only one I semi-respect is the guy who comes into buy syringes and is sheepish about it. He admits he has a problem that he is trying to get help. Now we cannot, due to laws, refuse to sell them to him, but at least he's honest about it.

And don't even talk to me about editing or forging a prescription. I once saw a Dilaudid prescription altered in colored-fucking-pencil. Seriously, colored pencil.

Or the guy who brought in a script for Morefinie 250mg. Obviously they're not clever enough to use a little tool called Google and get the proper spelling or existing dosage.

Am I an asshole? Probably. Do I think I'm better than some of these people? Not in the least. Everyone has their problems, I'm at least honest about mine. Just don't try being fucking sneak.

You're not Batman. I am.

Why Isn't There A Merit Badge for Swine Flu?

We all hear it every single day. It is now as consistent as insurance rejects, early fills on hydrocodone and the inability to find time to pee on a daily basis. I am, of course, talking about a proud patient proclaiming they have swine flu.

What in the hell is with people? They wear this fact almost as if it is some sort of proud accomplishment. I bet you we're within one month of someone selling "I've had swine flu" t-shirts to all the survivors.

Yes, that's right I called them survivors. You know why? Because I have had no less than a dozen people in the past two weeks refer to themselves as survivors of swine flu.

Whoopdy fuckin' do.

The weirdest thing is they'll tell anyone within ear shot. "Did you know my doctor confirmed that I have swine flu yesterday?" As if people aren't panicky enough as it is. I just simply do not understand it.

Where are the people going, "Did you know my doctor confirmed I contracted genital herpes yesterday?" or "Did you know my doctor confirmed I have Stage III lymphoma?"

You know why people don't share this kind of information? Because it's not a fucking good thing you have this disease/disorder/infection/etc. You shouldn't be proud of it. If you are, you are a fucking imbecile.

Next time someone walks up to me smiling saying that they just found out they have swine flu, I'm liable to punch them in the face. Maybe a case of epistaxis (ya know, since it sounds cooler) will supersede the excitement from swine flu.

At least they won't make shirts about that one.

The W Word

I made a fatal mistake the other night while explaining a situation to a patient. A mistake that I instantly regretted and, after eight years, should know now to say. I mentioned the dreaded W word to a patient. Let's set the story up a bit:

A guy comes in with a Rx for his girlfriend for Hydrocodone 10/500. We've filled four things for her in eight years, but I decided to give her insurance a shot anyway. Strangely enough it works, but it comes back with a reject of 'Refill Too Soon - Last Filled 11/10/08.' I relay this message to the man and he thanked me for his time and left. I thought that would be the extent of my excitement for the day.

About a half hour later I receive a call from a woman asking why I wouldn't fill her prescription. After a bit of thinking I figure out that this is the same woman who's script was too soon to fill. I tell her that when I ran it through her insurance and it came back saying she just had the same drug filled a few days ago at a different pharmacy. She replied that this didn't matter because it was a different prescription from a different doctor.

I know, I know, y'all are getting the flashing red lights in your head just like I did.

Anywho I explain to her that her insurance won't cover it, so she asks if she can pay cash for it. I tell her no as we have a moral obligation to regulate dispensation of medications for the patient and public's safety. She replies, "Well you have to fill it, it's an ORDER from the doctor." After explaining to her that a prescription is not 'an order' and we are not legally obligated to fill every script that is presented to us. "Well I'm going out of town," she states. "Isn't there away you can just fill it or get an insurance override?"

More red lights... and it was next that I stated the word which I avoid using the most out of any other word at work...

"Ma'am when your under insurance through Welfare, they do not allow any overrides"

Note: Part of the reason I used that dreaded word is how our insurances are named in our system. Medicaid is split up through several different processors and each billcode is named for that processor. One of them, what is called straight Medicaid, is called 'Welfare' in our system. Thus, had it said "Purple Dildo", I would have used that term instead of Welfare.

After hearing this she went ballistic, screaming at me that I just said I wouldn't fill her script because she was on welfare. Furthermore she stated she was going to sue my ass and bring the police down to the store to force me to fill it. She continued to scream obscenities at me (while I held the phone about three feet away from my ear) for another two minutes before she hung up.

I then made the obligatory call to my manager to inform her of the situation, just in case she would follow through with her threat, and informed her of my mistake which caused the situation.

I know better than that, but I really wasn't thinking about it in that terms when I stated it. It was funny for a while, but I started to feel like a dumbass for such a simple oversight. Oh well, it was the most interesting phone call I've gotten in weeks and it broke up a relatively slow day.

And George Carlin was wrong, there's not seven dirty words, there's eight. And now you know why.

That's not my Doctor

Phone Rings

"Hi there, I just picked up one of my meds and I want to know why you put the wrong doctor on my bottle. I don't know who this guy is and he's not my doctor and I don't want him on my bottle because he's not my doctor. He could be trying to kill me because he's not my doctor so I why did you put his name on my bottle?"

And what did it say on her bottle? Dr. Reddy's. Gotta love workin in the ghetto.

On that note, Happy Halloween everyone!

Note: For those not in the field, Dr Reddy's is one of the drug manufactures, which by law has to be on the bottle...

But I Need Them!

About a week ago The Angriest Pharmacist posted a story about the creativity some patients had in phoning in a fake script. At the time I somewhat applauded the ingenious nature of this plan and thought that perhaps the druggies were becoming slightly more intelligent.

Ladies and Gentleman I am dismayed to inform you that I was wrong. I was very very wrong. Cuddle up next to the fire, have a warm milk toddy (does that sound dirty to anyone else) and enjoy this lovely tale.

Yesterday a gentleman... a man... this druggie comes in asking to pick up his mother's hydrocodone. We can't find it anywhere and check our signature logs and it shows that his sister was in the day before and had picked it up. He became furious and said that she was not allowed to pick up meds for his mother (they are regulars, but this was news to us.) Next he called his mother and confirmed that the daughter had never brought her the drugs. He then demanded that we fill them again since his sister picked them up. Do you want to know why?

Note: Now I have worked in pharmacy for over eight years now with half of that time being spent in the ghetto. I have been robbed, I have had things thrown at me, I have been threatened and I have had to ask a 400lb woman to exit the store because she was wearing a size small tube top and, what I hope, where short shorts but really looked like a thong. I have seen and heard damn near everything until yesterday.

His reason for wanting another refill was that his sister didn't give him his 'cut' of the tablets. Yes, he wants us to fill it again because his sister sold them and didn't give him any money. In fact he even stated that he needed to sell them to 'make some money' this weekend. Suppressing a laugh I suggested maybe he should contact his mother's doctor with that explanation and see if he could get an early refill.

And the dumbass did it. I came to work today and found out that he had called her doctor and told them the exact same story he told us. Now think about this for a moment. He asked to have pain meds filled early so he could sell them. I mean I've seen people a few fries short of a happy meal before, but this guy was missing the goddamn box the happy meal comes in.

Needless to say he did not get his early refill and I am left even more dismayed with mankind than I once was. I thought the TAestP offered a hope that maybe their intelligence was rising, but alas that hypothesis has been shot to hell. How sad.

I Love My Tramadol

We have a gentleman whom has his prescriptions filled here. Of course his pride and joy is his beloved tramadol. He happens to call us about 15 times a day (this is no exaggeration, we usually have a tally chart up daily). We give him a 30 day supply of his tramadol, he calls on day 3 asking for a refill. For privacy sake we shall call him Fucktard.

So Fucktard, today, has called 13 times so far. Once he called three times, asking the same question, within five minutes. Fucktard is obviously on some other planet, and I'm surprised he can remember his own name.

My question is, can I treat him like a little kid? I would so love to tell him that if he calls one more time, we're not gonna be able to fill his tramadol for another week. Ethically I know this is wrong, but Fucktard annoys me. In fact as I am writing this I am being told that Fucktard is on the phone asking for a refill on his tramadol. I shall let him sweat it out on hold for a while. At least I know I can do that.

Full Moon

There are stretches where you reach a point where you don't know what the hell is going to happen. Maybe a madman will come in with a clown and demand all the Snickers bars. You honestly just have no friggin' clue. I am wrapping up one of those weeks. Lets tally whats all happened in the past week.

1) Patient 1: I'd like to call in some refills, but I don't know the numbers. I'm pretty sure I know what my name is

2) Patient 2: I need my Lexapril filled for my asthma (Lexapro is an antidepressant, Lisinopril is a blood pressure med)

3) Went to open a box of vials and found, instead of vials, 13 boxes of Pulmicort 0.1. Opened the next box and found the same thing. Turns out someone returned them to our wholesaler in vial boxes, who then thought they were vials, and then shipped them to us when we ordered vials. Paid $70 bucks for $9,500 of meds. Ka-ching

4) Patient 3: I hope you, your family and your future children burn in hell for all eternity. (when I asked to see the paper with her insurance information on it)

5) Me: I need to know when your transplant was so I can bill this to Medicare.
Patient 3: Its in your goddamn file for me
Me: Ma'am we're a pharmacy, we don't have all of your medical records especially when you had your transplant
Patient 3: Why the fuck do you need to know that information?
Me: So I can bill your insurance for it
Patient 3: Who the fuck told you to fucking bill my insurance?
Me: Ma'am the total cost of this prescription costs over $7,000
Patient 3: No it doesn't, its free cause you're an asshole and you're just gonna give it to me
(Note: This exchange actually happened and was conducted with me in a very calm voice and her screaming at the top of her lungs)

6) Patient 4: Do you have that pill for when you get drunk and wake up next to some chick?

7) Received a prescription for a child named Pepsi. No joke.

8) Patient 5: I found these on the floor and I wanna know what medication they are
Me: (Looking closely) I believe they are dried peas...
Patient 5: That's what I thought, thanks!

Honestly, it never comes in small doses, they always fucking come in these large droves. Most of that occurred on the same day. Worst part is you don't have time to pee and you start laughin' from this shit and you have to try your best from squirting in your pants.

Now THAT'S the shit they should teach in pharmacy school, how to not piss your pants while laughing at customers at work. I'm such a genius at times

What I Need for Work

Saw this on a forum, thought it would be a great addition at work in the ghetto

I witnessed a miracle today

We have a gentleman, I use this term very loosely mind you, whom is banned from virtually every other pharmacy in the city. We know this because we were the first to pass him off roughly a year and a half ago. Someone decided though that they would contact the state and have him restricted.... to my store. Whoopdy-fuckin-do.

He's one of those people who calls every five minutes. I mean literally every fucking five minutes. I counted today, he called nine times in a period of 40 minutes. A couple times I didn't even have time to walk across the pharmacy to get to the other phone before he would call again. His drug of choice?

Tramadol.

We finally get the ok on his candy, cause he's not using it for medicated purposes, and I tell him that. He says he'll have a buddy come and pick it up for him in three minutes. Of course all the lil colorful warning lights are going off my head. With an idea, I bring up his profile and see he has not signed a HIPAA form.

Gladly I tell him that until he signs this form no one else will be eligible to pick up his prescriptions (i.e. we waive our rights of responsibility). He goes he just had 3 vertebra crushed in an accident and is stuck in a wheelchair. I could smell the bullshit through the phone. I proceeded to tell him that I would gladly bring the form out to his car to have him sign. He mutters something and hangs up.

82 seconds later (yes, I counted) he walks in the door. Praise Jesus, Allah, the flying-spaghetti-monster or whatever you believe in, as this was a miracle. He went in the space of less then a minute and a half from being wheelchair ridden to being able to walk. You don't even see this shit on televangelists shows.

I think I was close to God today... or maybe it was just the tramadol in the air...

Not even a snowstorm can keep the threats away...

I mentioned earlier I was stuck at work. We closed at 3:30, I didn't actually get out of the store until 6:30. We had snow in the parking lot that was waste high and most of the cars are buried. And when you drive a Monte Carlo SS that means you aren't moving a goddamn inch.

One would think that getting that much snow in one day would be the big story of the day. Alas you would be wrong as you have to remember that I am in the ghetto.

Mind you we closed at 3:30. We had someone banging on the door at 5:30 saying he needed his meds. Being the kind people we are, those of us who were left let him. First he was pissed because we wouldn't sell him any smokes. I registers were off and the only reason we let him in was because he 'needed' his meds.

"But I don't wanna fuckin walk to the gas station" he whines.

Then we tell him that one of his meds, his Albuterol Inhaler, hasn't been ok'd by the doc yet. Most likely due to the fact that the whole goddamn city had shut down. And he hadn't gotten it filled in well over a year so it obviously wasn't a necessity. Especially considering that he was going to get smokes with it.

He of course fucking flips. Say's he's gonna take his business to Wal-Mart or Walgreens because we're fucking him over by not giving him his meds and his smokes. I'm sorry bud but we let you in to be nice so you don't need smokes, and since you haven't had this filled in 18 months, we're not just gonna give you one. (Note: We had 3 seperate jail profiles for him)

"You guys are fucking assholes, you have no soul, fuck all of you" he screams. Seeing as the front door was locked (since we were closed) I had to let him out. "Fuck you" he says as he shoves me out of my way. "Have a nice night," I tell him as I lock the door.

That might not have been a good idea.

I'm not even back to plunk my ass down on my chair in the pharmacist when I hear something slamming the front door. He's back now screaming "I'm gonna get in there and kick all you're fucking asses you goddamn fucking nazis!" He then picks something up off the sidewalk and starts beating the door. "C'mon out you pussies and let me fuckin rip your goddamn heads off!"

Well I hit the old 911 on Speed-dial. I explain the situation to the woman, who was very nice by the way, and she states she'll get a squad there as soon as she can, but obviously its shitty so it may take a while. After I hang up the phone one of our clerks goes to the front and tells this fella that we had called the cops and they're on their way. Needless to say he left.

So on top of having to dig my sorry ass out of snow four times today, and take a biochem test tomorrow morning, I now have to go file another freakin' report with the police. Gotta love the ghetto. Shitty even in snowfall.

You haven't lived until theres an assult rifle pointed at you...

Just another day in the ghetto. Lil Lortab here, lil Oxy there. And it was snowing making kind of pretty... well as pretty as the ghetto can look.

The pharmacist next to me gets a phone call, and looks kind of confused. He asks me if I had dialed 911 and that one of the alarms had been pressed. I go and look around and check all of them, but they appeared to be fine.

As I go in the back again the pharmacist puts the phone down and says we need to walk out the front door with our hands up. I, of course, think he's just shitting me seeing as we were just plotting a prank on a co-worker 30 minutes prior. He says no, he's serious, we have to leave now. So I go and walk out the front door.

And there stands 9 police officers. One with an assult rifle pointed directly at the door, another with a 9mm off to the side. They then storm the building to check and see what the issue is. All of us (5 employees and 2 customers, including a 5 year old) were searched and questioned. Seeing as this was my regular store I went in with the lead guy and went through the store with him and found everything to be just fine. We chalked it up to some kind of glitch in our security system and they went on their way.

Now one could look at this as a bad thing. But I think of it as I got a free 15 minute break from work, got some fresh air, and since we had to have our hands up I got to stretch for a lil while. Needless to say I felt a little refreshed when we went back to work. The joys of the ghetto...

I am Batman

Fear not people of my city, for I am the one who protects the innocent from harm, who puts criminals behind bars. Yes... I am Batman!

I'm seriously thinking of wearing my underwear on the outside of my clothes and wearing a cape to work after this week. Lets get a little back history before we delve into my adventures.

The main pharmacy I work at is in the ghetto portion of the city. And by ghetto I mean "I don't have the $1.00 for my son's seizure meds, but I can buy a $5 pack of Marb Reds" kind of neighborhood. I have worked there for three years (as of the 1st) and during my time this is what has occurred.

1. We have been broken into, by my count, bout 7 or 8 times in three years. It is never drugs taken. Nor cash from the open register drawers. No they always steal just the cigs. Kinda strange when you think about it.
2. I have confiscated 9 fake $50/$100 bills
3. I have had to call the police on 9 separate occasions
4. After sending a fella to jail, had a couple strikes against him already, for passing some fake cash he decided to come visit me after he was released, seeing as all he remembered was my first name. He sat for 15 minutes fiddling in his jacket pocket thanking me for helping him find God and the likes before he finally left. Needless to say I had a few lil streaks in my shorts.
5. I have witness a woman grab our 70 year old pharmacist by the neck when he refused to dispense her pain medication (she was an abuser)
6. I have had to throw people out of the store for coming in with guns poking out of their jeans
7. We have been robbed twice, both times taking someone hostage with a weapon, both times asking for Oxycontin. They were caught the second time however and I had to joy of id'ing them and filing plenty of paperwork for the courts.
8. During the 2nd robbery attempt they found a car that had been stolen from Chicago in our parking lot (it was unrelated from the robbery)
9. Recently our manager was caught trying to sell Vicodan (which she stole from our store) to an undercover cop. More paper work for me. Yay

There are numerous other lil incidents I'm forgetting, but needless to say I know most of the cops in the area by first name. I have personally gotten 5 people arrested, probably the most interesting being someone thrown to the ground just outside our front door with a gun to him.

Now back to this week....

Wednesday was merely an ordinary day. Or so I thought. As I arrive I am quickly informed that our pharmacist, when checking on an iffy script of a patient, somehow found out that the guy had a warrant out for his arrest. As soon as he was to arrive we were to detain him and call the police. Well he showed up, I went back to the 'bat phone' (yes we have a red bat phone for emergencies) and dialed 911. As he walked out the front door the police stormed him and he took off like a fat kid after a cake. The cops ended up chasing him for several blocks before he trying OD'ing on the Hydromorphone he just received from us. Luckily for him, but perhaps not for his butthole, he survived.

The excitement for the day was over... or so I thought.

Two weeks prior to this we had taken a Tramadol Rx from a girl. I immediately flagged it and alerted it to the pharmacist. 1) It was a DDS writing for a quantity of 60 which is strange in itself and 2) All she ever got from us was Tramadol, from 4 different stores, all cash. Yet he filled it anyway.

A week later we find out that she had stolen a blank Rx pad from this dentist and was writing out forged prescriptions all over the city. Well, the genius that she is, called in for the refill on her forged script.... 20 minutes after we got the last guy arrested.

We alerted the police, who stated they would have some squads in the area for the next couple hours. It would be the same pharmacist and I from the last time she was there. As she walks in the door I recognize her immediately. The pharmacist does not and actually buys her spiel as she asks questions for her 'kid'. I go back to dial 911 on the 'bat phone' again and after I get off the phone I see she is gone. Turns out she forgot her money.

So the police come and go and I ask them to wait around because she said she'd be back shortly. They do not. And she comes back. I dial 911 only to hear them say that they have no squads in the area.. shift change. The pharmacist and I decide to give her only 12 of the 60 and send her on her way. Not even 2 minutes out of the store she calls and asks where the rest of them are. I politely tell her they'll be in the order at 10am the next morning and she can get them then.

Now we are on Day 2 of our sting operation. She shows up twice, but is extremely antsy and impatient and doesn't wait longer than 30 seconds. Police misses her both times. Today, Day 3, her boyfriend shows up. The clerk is legitimately held up by another patient as I go to the 'bat phone' once again. He grows impatient and leaves soon after. Cop shows up a minute later. And then, the geniuses they are, they park 5 squads on the corners around the store. Sure, they're gonna come in now!

Tomorrow will be Day 4 of our operation. I talked to her, once again, before I left today and she stated that she would be in sometime on Saturday. Hopefully we can nab her then.

So you see, I truly am like Batman. She shall be the seventh criminal I take off the street. Don't think they'll have a class on this stuff in pharmacy school...

Is there no justice?

Is there no justice in this world anymore? I mean honestly after the last few months I’m beginning to doubt this.

So about 8 months ago we were robbed twice by the same duo. Both times one of them came in, grabbed someone, put a knife to their neck and asked for all of our Oxycontin. The second time of which we were quick enough and caught the individuals. And what was their punishment? Maximum of 1 year at a work farm. So you perform an armed robbery, take someone hostage, steal medication and get just a year at a work farm. Jesus I think maybe I'm in the wrong profession then.

The next part here I haven't really been able to speak much of due to legal restraints. That has since been lifted, but its more or less been forgotten... until today.

Our new manager, well she's no longer our manager, has been sitting in jail for about a month ago. She tried selling a couple thousand Lor-Tab (Vicodan, Hydrocodone, whatever ya wanna call it) to an undercover FEDERAL AGENT. Remember that part. It was then discovered that she had been stealing this from us for quite a while. In addition she created fake prescriptions, altered our inventory on top of stealing and distributing drugs. She is looking at about 40-45 years in a federal prison and a 1 Million Dollar fine.

One would assume then that she would be in jail for quite a while correct?

Wrong.

We got a call today that she was released on recognisance, without having to pay her $75,000 bail, and left with her mother. Now do you really think that someone who is looking at that much prison time, and she will not be cut a deal according to the DA, is going to stay in the area? I mean just what the hell is that?

So I have included that the system does not work. I'm going to move towards a life of crime because that seems to be a bit more rewarding than doing things the legal way...