Hey did ya'll know that the internet died the other day? Neither did I. Luckily we all have "the artist formally known as the artist formally known as Prince" to set us straight. Because if anybody knows about things dying it's Prince. Just ask him about his career.
I don't even know where to begin. In the midst of the mass disaster zone that is my house as I prepare to embark on my journey to Orlando I was called in this weekend to cover for a friend of mine. I've worked pretty much all week and will work pretty much the remainder of my time here in Michigan. I imagine by the time that I make it to the airport early Monday morning I will be in a wheelchair; reduced to some catatonic state from dealing with coupon shoppers and maniacs all week.
Dumb Customer: Your coupon says that I can't reproduce it. So how am I supposed to copy this thing?
Me: You're not. That's the point.
Dumb Customer: But how can I use this offer more than once then?
Me: It's limit one per customer per offer.
Dumb Customer: Oh can I use it on two prescriptions?
Me: *sigh*
*Gunshots*
HAHA...I kid...I kid.
Something happened today. Something that I'm not sure I can even explain in words. However for your entertainment (mostly mine), I will attempt to try and explain in this in the most animate way I can.
Okay...here it goes...
A guy walked in and handed me a script written for a "thing".
I don't mean a "thing" as in the script was written for some medical thing. I mean the person was a genderless thing or a gender confused thing or a confusing thing that I have no fucking clue what it was or is. The medications were typically prescribed for a "male". However what proceeded was a conversation of mass confusion aka a CMC. It's a safe bet that most CMC's probably originate from Iraq or Florida polling places.
The conversation went like this. I've modified the name (which was a male name) so the identity of this "whatever" is protected.
Customer: She needs a script.
Me: Oh has she been here before. (Looks at script and notices it's written for "James")
Customer: Oh yeah she has been here plenty of times but I only want two of the meds.
Me: I'm sorry I'm confused the script on here says it's written for James. You said it's for a her.
Customer: Yes I understand that.
Me: But it's written for a "James".
Customer: Yeah go ahead and get that ready. Put the other two on hold. Thanks.
Me: Umm...okay...(Stares blankly into oblivion for about 10 minutes)
Me: How in the fuck can it be for her?!!!
As confused as I was, I decided that I better let the issue go and try not to think about it any longer (for my brain might implode). A migraine did occur in the hour following this incident. One can say I came close to death. So very very close.
Nobody can really prepare you for these situations. I don't really think there is any kind of OTJ training or manual that can properly prepare somebody for dealing with the public--especially when your sample of the public population is overwhelmingly nuts. For people considering pharmacy for a long-term career or even a part-time venture they should first follow a couple steps.
1.) Find a local sanatorium.
2.) Check yourself in.
3.) Check out with a better career objective and state of mind.
If these steps don't work and you find yourself in a pharmacy it's important to keep in mind: Alcoholism always works. Preparation can also lessen the overwhelming bout of initial shock when you realize that you've pretty much went to college to join the circus. The best technique to prepare IMHO is to dress up in a Planter's costume and run through your local psych ward singing "The Pina Colada Song". After you've done this a couple times you'll be ready to play ball with the big boys as you greet them behind the counter in your trusty lab coat.
Now I know right now you're probably thinking, "Joe, how would running through the psych ward dressed as the Planter's dude prepare me for working in a pharmacy." Oh my young Padawan. The answer is very simple.
You might as well get used to the delusional looking at you like you're a bigger nut than they are.
And in some cases we are.
Peace Love & Clonazepam
Joe
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