Kindness Translates

I work in a pharmacy contained inside a larger grocery store. A woman comes to our counter with a cart containing some groceries, and two young boys are with her, obviously twins. She hands me a prescription for some medicine.

Me: “Are you on any insurance plans or Medicaid?”

Parent: “Sorry… my English… bad. Medicine… for them.”

She points at her boys; now that I am looking, they do look quite poorly. They translate for her.

Boy #1: “Mom doesn’t have any insurance. The clinic saw us for free but they couldn’t give us the medicine so they sent us here.”

Me: “I see. Does your mom know that this medicine will cost over a hundred dollars?”

The boy translates to the mother, who looks shocked and then a little broken as she looks at her groceries and then at her boys. She says something to them, and again, they translate.

Boy #2: “It’s okay, we can put this back. Mom says she’ll buy the medicine.”

I glance at her cart and see what looks like only essentials: store brand bread, eggs, cereal, some canned goods. The whole cart probably comes to less than thirty dollars.

Me: “We have some ways we might be able to bring that cost down if—”

Boy #1: “Mom doesn’t have papers. She’s… seeking asylum.”

The fact that the young boy knew what I was about to ask and had that well-rehearsed answer ready to go told me all I needed to know.

I get the prescription ready, but instead of charging her for it at our counter, I print a label intended to be scanned at the checkout. This isn’t normal practise, but we can do this if we’re unable to take payment at the pharmacy. I hand the medication with the label to the boy.

Me: “Take this to the checkout counter and you can pay there.”

The boys both nod and they explain to their mother. As soon as they’re gone, I furiously call the checkout manager. As soon as she picks up, I explain what just happened.

Me: “My hands are tied on this end — I can’t discount the medication — but surely you have some coupons or gift cards on your side? Is there something you can do?”

Checkout Manager: “How much was the medication?”

Me: “$112.”

Checkout Manager: “Leave it with me.”

Fifteen minutes later, the checkout manager comes over to find me. I ask what happened.

Checkout Manager: “Such sweet boys! I think they struggled to translate for their mom what a ‘ten-thousandth customer of the month’ prize was, but explaining the $150 coupons of store credit was a lot easier!”

A few minutes later, we both saw the mother and her two boys shopping again, picking up the essentials they had diligently returned to the shelves earlier.