Because I’m Nice
May 9th, 2009
I may possibly be the nicest pharmacist you’ll ever meet. You can grumble about the cost of your meds with me for 15 minutes on the phone when I have 10 waiters to verify. You can tell me to fill “whatever needed to be filled” when the last time you picked up anything was 6 months ago. Heck, you can even bring your bras and pantyhose to the pharmacy counter to check out. I’ll ring you up, eventhough I didn’t pay $10,000 a semester in pharmacy school to fold your fucking underwear. But that’s ok, I don’t mind. I’m a nice guy.
But do not expect me to take your prescriptions at drop-off while you’re still busy yapping on the phone. Soon enough, your idiocy will catch up to you when you’re huffing and puffing your way to the ER because you forgot to tell me you’re allergic to sulfa and the doctor prescribed you Bactrim.
The same goes for pick-up. Your uncontrollable yapping may deter me from warning you that amoxicillin will decrease the effectiveness of your birth control. Just don’t blame me nine months later when you’re spawning a new generation of idiotic yapping babies.
Other than that, I’m probably the nicest pharmacist you’ll ever meet.