Doing More Pharm Than Good

, , , , , | Working | May 31, 2013

(My daughter has a seizure disorder. We are a low-income family, and we get low-cost insurance through the state for her. However, because of this disorder, she has separate insurance through the state; the pharmacy knows this.)

Tech: “Um, okay, so we tried to run your daughter’s medication and it won’t go through.  We have to contact [Regular] insurance to see why it won’t go through.”

Me: “Wait, no… you have to run it through [Other] insurance. I called this in like three days ago, and you are now just calling me?! That is the medication she takes for her seizures. I am out, too, and I can’t have her miss a dose.”

Tech: “We did and it didn’t work. You can pay cash for it. That’s $54.99.”

Me: “Look, I am low income. I can’t afford something that expensive. Are you sure you ran it through the right insurance?”

Tech: “Uh, yeah. It’s not my fault you let your insurance lapse or something. You need to call [Regular] insurance and take care of it on your end or else pay cash.”

(I call my daughter’s regular insurance, who confirms my side of things. They call the pharmacy and get them to approve the medication. I call back but request to speak with a pharmacist directly.)

Me: “So, did it work this time?”

Pharmacist: “Yeah, it did. I’m sorry [Tech] was acting that way. She just didn’t want to run it on the other insurance because it takes a few more steps to make.”

Me: “Yeah, I know. I’ve heard this song and dance every month for the last three months and nothing has changed. Look, my kid was totally out of her seizure meds! She could have had a seizure because of your lack of calling me about it in a timely manner and making jump through hoops I don’t need to.”

Pharmacist: “Well, I’m really busy, and I can’t watch everything they do all the time.”

Me: “Wow, you just inspired me to take my business elsewhere and call corporate to complain.”

(Within two hours, my daughter’s prescriptions were transferred to another pharmacy where they DO take the time to run it correctly and call me if/when there is a problem. I recently went back into that first store to return something and there was an entirely new staff in the pharmacy. I hope these ones do actually care!)


This story is part of our Epilepsy roundup.

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Treat Them Well And You Get Treated

, , , , | Right | March 6, 2013

(My sister and I start unloading our cart. When the cashier and young bag boy see her they put on big smiles.)

Cashier: “Hey! It’s our favorite customer!”

(The bagger looks at us and smiles big.)

Bagger: “Your sister is my hero!”

(My sister blushes and I raise my eyebrows at her.)

Cashier: “On his first day, an older customer came in and gave him a hard time…”

Bagger: “…A really hard time. Calling me, stupid, and an idiot, ‘Kids these days.’ You guys know the drill.”

Cashier: “Unfortunately, we aren’t allowed to say anything. Then the customer dumped all of the bags out and yelled at him to do it again.”

Bagger: “So your sister yelled, ‘Hey, you don’t treat people like that!'”

Sister: “He turned around ready to yell at me, saw I was in a wheelchair, and shut his mouth. It was awesome!”

Cashier: “So, she’s our favorite customer now.”

Me: “Holy crap, that is awesome!”

(The employees were always super helpful and nice before, but after that, they REALLY went out of their way to help us.)

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Suited To The Role

, , , , , , , , | Right | February 18, 2013

(I work the floor at an independently-owned menswear store. The owner, my boss, spends a lot of time at the shop, and tries to keep prices as low as possible to help our city’s large homeless population get good job interview clothes. A clearly homeless man is wandering around the store. The other patrons are giving him looks.)

Customer: “Excuse me, sir?”

Me: “Yes, ma’am?”

Customer: “I think you may want to call security. That… bum over there, he keeps feeling the suits and muttering to himself. I’m just sure he’s planning to steal one.”

Me: “Well, ma’am, I think that’s quite unlikely.”

Customer: “Oh, come on, you know how they are! I mean, I’d keep an eye on him even if he wasn’t homeless!”

(The homeless man in question happens to be Hispanic.)

Me: “We don’t discriminate here, ma’am.”

Customer: “Well, I’m sure the owner would want to hear about this!”

(I give in and call him over. The customer explains her concerns. As a black man, my boss isn’t happy with her racism, but agrees to talk to the homeless man.)

Owner: “Excuse me, sir, are you finding what you need?”

Homeless Man: “Well, not really. I’m hoping for something versatile in a dark or navy wool, but most of the options in my size are cut American style instead of European, which fits me a little better. Not to mention they’re all pinstriped, which I really don’t have the build for, you know?”

Owner: “I… yes, I understand. I think we may have some options over here, if you’ll follow me. How did you know all that?”

Homeless Man: “Back before I lost my job, I used to be really into this stuff. I’m not looking for anything fancy, just something I can use to look good for a job interview later today.”

(My boss helps him find something he likes, and comes to the counter with him. The suit is priced at $87.)

Homeless Man: *digging in his pockets* “Hang on, I think I’ve got enough.”

Owner: *to me* “Take my card. I’m buying it for him.” *to the homeless man* “Here. The suit’s yours, on one condition. After your interview today, you come back and apply for a job here, too. Got it?”

Homeless Man: “I… oh, my God, thank you. Thank you so much.”

(Two years later, that formerly-homeless man is my manager, and has a little girl with his new wife — the owner’s sister.)

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Not Wii-motely Possible

, , , , | Right | January 15, 2013

(It’s New Year’s Day at a popular gaming retail store. A disgruntled customer who appears to be a little caffeinated and twitchy walks up to the cashier, who is also the assistant manager. He slams a Nintendo Wiimote in poor condition on the counter. Not only has it clearly been used, but it’s crusty and looks very unsanitary.)

Customer: “Listen, I know you guys can’t give cash refunds without the receipt, but you’re going to have to do it. I’m the customer, so I’m right.”

(The assistant manager remains silent and looks at the Wiimote, obviously hesitant to touch it.)

Customer: “I used to work for [Game Shop] ten years ago, so I know how things work! Give me my cash!”

(My assistant manager looks to the cashier knowingly.)

Customer: “If you want, I can call the manager and he’ll tell you to do it! Give me my cash now!”

Assistant Manager: “You’re more than welcome to call the manager, but if you worked for [Game Store] 10 years ago, then you should know things may have changed. The manager you used to know probably doesn’t even work for this chain anymore.”

Customer: “Give me my f***ing cash!”

Assistant Manager: “You just crossed the line by cussing, sir. There are children present. I’m going to have to ask you to leave.”

Customer: “I’m the f***ing customer!”

Assistant Manager: “Get out!”

Customer: “F*** you! You guys are f***ing r*****s!”

(The customer storms out of the store after grabbing his Wiimote.)

Me: “Well, that’s one way to start of the New Year!”

Assistant Manager: “Coming in here and cussing is not a good way to get what you want. I hadn’t even said ‘no’ yet. Although even if I could give him a cash refund for a ‘used’ controller, it was so crusty and disgusting that it looked like he dropped it in the toilet and then used it!”

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Pranksgiving

, , , , | Related | November 13, 2012

(My sister is a great cook, but very ditzy. She has just put the turkey in the oven for Thanksgiving. My mother is a great prankster.)

Mom: *to my sister* “Honey, we’re out of chicken broth. Can you run to the store and grab some more?”

Sister: “Sure, Mom.”

(She leaves.)

Mom: *opening the oven and taking the turkey out* “Open the fridge, hun.”

Me: *opening the fridge* “Why? What are you doing?”

Mom: “Just check the crisper drawer.”

Me: *pulls out a Cornish game hen* “What?”

Mom: “Here, season it.”

(I do as she says. My mother slides it inside the turkey’s cavity, and sticks it back in the oven. I start to get a sense of what she’s doing. Later, my sister is carving the turkey before the extended family.)

Sister: “Ohmigod!” *tugs out the Cornish game hen*

Mom: “You’ve cooked a pregnant turkey!”

Sister: “Ohmigod!” *bursts out sobbing*

(It took us a half hour to convince her that turkeys lay eggs!)

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