Your alarm makes its god awful beeping sound (if there is a Hell, that sound is played 24/7) and you force yourself to not slam the fucking thing into the closest wall.
As you attempt to button your work shirt, half the time I skip a button, you realize that today, for whatever reason, you could give a shit about anything. Maybe you slept a full eight hours, maybe you had a great night the day before, but today you just flat out don't care.
Arriving at work, before you even set foot in the pharmacy a wide eyed customer asks you where the back scratchers are. You aren't even remotely curious as to why someone is looking for a back scratcher this early in the morning as you point them in the proper direction.
Strolling into the pharmacy you notice the mess that was left from the night before. Papers strewn about, dishes over flowing from the sink, vials are empty and, perhaps the only thing registering interest on your radar this morning, there sits a coffee pot in the middle of the pharmacy counter. How quaint.
Normally this would put your nerves on end, as you are the king of a clean pharmacy, but today you walk past it. Today you'll just work around it.
The fax machine starts to vomit much like a college student on spring break in Cancun, yet it takes all your might to wander over to capture some of this illustrious spew. You notice, on your first script, that the doctor okay'd refills on test strips for a patient. You asked for a refill on Lipitor.
Sigh.
By noon you notice the order sits ever so barely within your vision, hearkening to you to come and unpack it, yet you let it sit there. "Maybe someone else will notice it first," you think. The shame you normally feel from pushing work onto someone else is absent today. Already you are counting the minutes until your day is over.
"What do you mean its three dollars, last month it was free!" a voice bellows from the depths of the store.
No clever quips come to mind. No urge to defuse the situation because, in your mind, you had nothing to do with it. This is justified by the fact that this is the only day you'll be in this store for ten days.
Delegation is the key word here.
Finally the end of the day rolls around. Many scripts have been filled, but you don't really care to look. You've done your job for the day and that's all that really matters. Not once were you rude to a customer or your co-workers, but you were in your own little world for the entire day.
As you walk out the door you let out a heavy sigh with the knowledge you won't have to be back for well over a week. It was just another day in the life of a pharmacy drone. Nothing more, nothing less.
Apathy ruled my day today. How was yours?
Tuesday, December 29, 2009
Thursday, December 24, 2009
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.
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.
Tuesday, December 22, 2009
A Journey to the Pits of Hell
My after work mission tonight was quite simple, head to the store and pick up four little items. It would be a simple task had it not been for my destination; the dreaded Walmart.
Now before anyone gets their panties in a bunch, I should explain that I do not like Walmart myself. In our area, however, there is a virtual monopoly on supermarkets. That company has practices which are just as, if not worse, than Walmarts. My logic states, if I'm gonna shop at some asshole's store, I might as well do so at the one with the lower prices.
The list was as follows
Simple enough, would you not agree?
As I come around the corner of the store I notice the parking lot is surprisingly plump. This kind of makes sense as it is around dinner time when most people get off of work. As I meander about looking for an acceptable spot, I see the most lowly of drivers: the lurker.
The lurker seeks to gain a spot closest to the door, what I call 'Rock Star Parking.' Really there's nothing wrong with lurking, it's an acceptable part of the shopping experience. The problem lies when there are open spots seven rows down from the start of the aisle. Yes, that extra fifty feet or so is a monumental walk for these people. Perhaps Walmart should provide workers to carry them to and fro across the lot.
And there were four of these people, all in the 30s or so, waiting patiently at various strategic positions. I can only aspire to be so dedicated in my later years.
I stroll into the store with a clear plan of attack to minimize time spent in the store. **Brief tangent, this Walmart is located directly across the street from a large trailer park. Accident? I think not. ** My first mission is to obtain the garbage bags which proved to be of little difficulty.
Next came the toilet paper where I encountered one of the most perplexed individuals I have ever seen. She stared at the toilet paper as if she were trying to unravel the secret to String Theory or something of that nature. I had no idea so much thought went into this product and I briefly considered whether or not I had been going about my toilet paper purchasing the wrong away.
Alas, I moved towards the type we usually get when I found myself semi-blocked with an eye shifter. See this purpose, for whatever reason, feels some type of innate shame in purchasing toilet paper. I do not get this and merely want her to move out of my way. Lady, I poop, you poop, everyone poops and something's gotta clean up the mess. With ninja-like precision, she grabs a package and quite literally runs off.
Whew, half way done.
Next comes the chocolates. A little Ghirardelli Peanut Butter squares should do the trick. As I reach for the package, it vanishes in thin air. Where ever could it have gone??
I look to my right and there stands a grouchy looking older woman.
"This one's mine," she shrieks.
Ok.... didn't realize we were claiming packages of chocolates which such ferocity, but I will gladly concede that you own that particular one. As I walk away I cautiously glance over my shoulder to ensure she's not going to perform some kind of surprise attack because I stole one of 'her' packages. In my head I'm picturing a headline that says "Young Man Killed at Local Walmart Over Bag of Chocolate." Yikes.
Finally I make my way to the dairy section. Apparently a memo was passed around stating that everyone could park their carts in front of the milk coolers. I didn't get that memo, so obviously I was unaware of it.
As I move a cart out of the way I hear a booming voice yell, "Hey, what are you doing with my cart!"
I reply that I am merely trying to grab a jug of milk and needed to move his cart out of the way. With an evil eye my wife would be proud of, he attempted to stare me down with fear. After dealing with ninja-toilet paper lady and deranged chocolate lady, I stood my ground. The milk was mine.
Success is at hand, I now possess all four of the items I came for. Now for a quick self-check out and I can mosey on home.
Or.... maybe not.
I dedicate myself to a particular line. Personally I'm not big on line jumping for the same reason I don't switch lanes in traffic. As soon as I move out of that lane, it starts moving. Tonight, this would prove to be a poor decision.
The woman ahead of me had a cart full of goods. I'm not talking about a couple of big things, I'm saying she had at least 25 cans of Chef Boyardee.
Whatever, I'm in no hurry and this trip as already been hellacious. Then she takes her time CAREFULLY scanning each item.
Here's my beef, first if you're gonna use self-checkout, know what you're doing. It's usually not that hard to scan a barcode. That's why they often pay minimum wage to cashiers.
Second, if you're going to the self-checkout line, don't bring a full fucking cart. Self-checkout is designed for people with a small or medium number of items, not for someone with a hundred items in their cart.
Lastly, if you cannot use the self-checkout, and you have a cart full of goods, in no way in holy hell should you use the self-checkout line. If so, I reserve the right to throw my toilet paper at you and ask you if you ate paint chips as a kid. If that's not in the Constitution, it sure as hell should be.
Oh and one last amendment, do not pay with a pack of one dollar bills. No one wants to wait while you attempt to feed 75 dollar bills into the machine. Who the hell has that many dollar bills to begin with? I hope to God you are not a stripper. That alone is enough to make me want to use my garbage bags and toilet paper in unison.
The moral of the story, just because you need a mere four items from the store does not mean your mission shall go peacefully. I didn't need a drink after work initially. I sure as hell do now.
Now before anyone gets their panties in a bunch, I should explain that I do not like Walmart myself. In our area, however, there is a virtual monopoly on supermarkets. That company has practices which are just as, if not worse, than Walmarts. My logic states, if I'm gonna shop at some asshole's store, I might as well do so at the one with the lower prices.
The list was as follows
* Toilet Paper
* Garbage Bags
* Milk
* Chocolate (per request of the wife)
Simple enough, would you not agree?
As I come around the corner of the store I notice the parking lot is surprisingly plump. This kind of makes sense as it is around dinner time when most people get off of work. As I meander about looking for an acceptable spot, I see the most lowly of drivers: the lurker.
The lurker seeks to gain a spot closest to the door, what I call 'Rock Star Parking.' Really there's nothing wrong with lurking, it's an acceptable part of the shopping experience. The problem lies when there are open spots seven rows down from the start of the aisle. Yes, that extra fifty feet or so is a monumental walk for these people. Perhaps Walmart should provide workers to carry them to and fro across the lot.
And there were four of these people, all in the 30s or so, waiting patiently at various strategic positions. I can only aspire to be so dedicated in my later years.
I stroll into the store with a clear plan of attack to minimize time spent in the store. **Brief tangent, this Walmart is located directly across the street from a large trailer park. Accident? I think not. ** My first mission is to obtain the garbage bags which proved to be of little difficulty.
Next came the toilet paper where I encountered one of the most perplexed individuals I have ever seen. She stared at the toilet paper as if she were trying to unravel the secret to String Theory or something of that nature. I had no idea so much thought went into this product and I briefly considered whether or not I had been going about my toilet paper purchasing the wrong away.
Alas, I moved towards the type we usually get when I found myself semi-blocked with an eye shifter. See this purpose, for whatever reason, feels some type of innate shame in purchasing toilet paper. I do not get this and merely want her to move out of my way. Lady, I poop, you poop, everyone poops and something's gotta clean up the mess. With ninja-like precision, she grabs a package and quite literally runs off.
Whew, half way done.
Next comes the chocolates. A little Ghirardelli Peanut Butter squares should do the trick. As I reach for the package, it vanishes in thin air. Where ever could it have gone??
I look to my right and there stands a grouchy looking older woman.
"This one's mine," she shrieks.
Ok.... didn't realize we were claiming packages of chocolates which such ferocity, but I will gladly concede that you own that particular one. As I walk away I cautiously glance over my shoulder to ensure she's not going to perform some kind of surprise attack because I stole one of 'her' packages. In my head I'm picturing a headline that says "Young Man Killed at Local Walmart Over Bag of Chocolate." Yikes.
Finally I make my way to the dairy section. Apparently a memo was passed around stating that everyone could park their carts in front of the milk coolers. I didn't get that memo, so obviously I was unaware of it.
As I move a cart out of the way I hear a booming voice yell, "Hey, what are you doing with my cart!"
I reply that I am merely trying to grab a jug of milk and needed to move his cart out of the way. With an evil eye my wife would be proud of, he attempted to stare me down with fear. After dealing with ninja-toilet paper lady and deranged chocolate lady, I stood my ground. The milk was mine.
Success is at hand, I now possess all four of the items I came for. Now for a quick self-check out and I can mosey on home.
Or.... maybe not.
I dedicate myself to a particular line. Personally I'm not big on line jumping for the same reason I don't switch lanes in traffic. As soon as I move out of that lane, it starts moving. Tonight, this would prove to be a poor decision.
The woman ahead of me had a cart full of goods. I'm not talking about a couple of big things, I'm saying she had at least 25 cans of Chef Boyardee.
Whatever, I'm in no hurry and this trip as already been hellacious. Then she takes her time CAREFULLY scanning each item.
Here's my beef, first if you're gonna use self-checkout, know what you're doing. It's usually not that hard to scan a barcode. That's why they often pay minimum wage to cashiers.
Second, if you're going to the self-checkout line, don't bring a full fucking cart. Self-checkout is designed for people with a small or medium number of items, not for someone with a hundred items in their cart.
Lastly, if you cannot use the self-checkout, and you have a cart full of goods, in no way in holy hell should you use the self-checkout line. If so, I reserve the right to throw my toilet paper at you and ask you if you ate paint chips as a kid. If that's not in the Constitution, it sure as hell should be.
Oh and one last amendment, do not pay with a pack of one dollar bills. No one wants to wait while you attempt to feed 75 dollar bills into the machine. Who the hell has that many dollar bills to begin with? I hope to God you are not a stripper. That alone is enough to make me want to use my garbage bags and toilet paper in unison.
The moral of the story, just because you need a mere four items from the store does not mean your mission shall go peacefully. I didn't need a drink after work initially. I sure as hell do now.
Monday, December 21, 2009
I Need to Know My A1C! Stat!
Can someone please explain to me the benefit of this for the patient?
Is this considered more of a diagnostic test? I really do not see the need for the patient to be able to test for this at home. It provides them with no pertinent information. If anything I would think it would make them believe there is less of a need to visit their doctor because of it.
When I first saw it I thought it was simply a capitalistic endeavor by Bayer, but I'll defer to those who are more knowledgeable on whether or not this serves a legitimate purpose.
Is this considered more of a diagnostic test? I really do not see the need for the patient to be able to test for this at home. It provides them with no pertinent information. If anything I would think it would make them believe there is less of a need to visit their doctor because of it.
When I first saw it I thought it was simply a capitalistic endeavor by Bayer, but I'll defer to those who are more knowledgeable on whether or not this serves a legitimate purpose.
Sunday, December 20, 2009
Peaceful Way To End the Day
Little different direction from my normal music selections. First saw this guy on Leno about four years ago and I went out the next morning to pick up his CD.
One of those songs that after a long day you lay your head back, close your eyes, and relax. Enjoy.
One of those songs that after a long day you lay your head back, close your eyes, and relax. Enjoy.
Saturday, December 19, 2009
What To Do... What To Do...
I am effectively done with classes for the semester. I have one little final left, but it is nothing of consequence. Perhaps the most distressing fact is that I should be graduating today.
Damn you pharmacy school with your overly specific pre-req!
The bigger question is what the hell do I do now? It's the first time in almost three years that I haven't had a class to worry about or been studying for some big test. I literally have four weeks to do whatever the hell I want and I have no idea what I should do. Tie on the fact that the stress of needing good grades to get into pharmacy school is now gone and I'm even more lost.
Recently I've become reacquainted with the gym. I've probably put on about 30 pounds or so over the last two years seeing as I've dedicated the majority of my time to my studies. Actually I forgot how much I liked going to the gym, so I at least have something to occupy me for roughly an hour each day.
Where to go from there, though, I have no idea. Maybe it's time to actually go visit friends since I find it awkward that I haven't really seen my main circle of friends in almost six months. Maybe its time to finally upgrade the hard drive on my PS3 like I have been meaning to do for almost a year.
It's very odd, I feel slightly lost. I have nothing to focus a big chunk of my time on. Is this what it's like to be a normal college student?
Damn you pharmacy school with your overly specific pre-req!
The bigger question is what the hell do I do now? It's the first time in almost three years that I haven't had a class to worry about or been studying for some big test. I literally have four weeks to do whatever the hell I want and I have no idea what I should do. Tie on the fact that the stress of needing good grades to get into pharmacy school is now gone and I'm even more lost.
Recently I've become reacquainted with the gym. I've probably put on about 30 pounds or so over the last two years seeing as I've dedicated the majority of my time to my studies. Actually I forgot how much I liked going to the gym, so I at least have something to occupy me for roughly an hour each day.
Where to go from there, though, I have no idea. Maybe it's time to actually go visit friends since I find it awkward that I haven't really seen my main circle of friends in almost six months. Maybe its time to finally upgrade the hard drive on my PS3 like I have been meaning to do for almost a year.
It's very odd, I feel slightly lost. I have nothing to focus a big chunk of my time on. Is this what it's like to be a normal college student?
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