I’m a pharmacist with a major corporate chain. I’m talking with a patient about a medication that she should have refilled but hasn’t yet.

Patient: “Oh, I don’t need that one refilled. My doctor took me off it.” 

Me: “Sounds good. I’ll put that in the notes.” 

Patient: *Jokingly* “Besides, I just dropped over $300 at your pharmacy a couple of days ago. I don’t think I need to spend any more right now.”

Dear readers, I can only ascribe what happens next to this being the end of a very crazy twelve-hour shift. I want to say, “Let’s give your pocketbook a break.” For some reason, my brain decides to change the word “break” to “rest” halfway through the word. So, what actually comes out of my mouth is:

Me: “Oh, yeah, let’s give your pocketbook a breast.” 

Exhaustion is a powerful drug, guys.

A customer comes in with a small digital thermometer, the kind that generally goes under the armpit or in your mouth. As such, they’re designed to be resistant to fluids, although they’re not entirely waterproof because, hey, they are cheap.

Customer: “I bought this a few days ago and took a couple of readings, and now it’s stopped working. I think maybe it’s the battery. Can I have a refund or an exchange?”

Coworker: “Let’s have a look and see if we can change the battery first.”

My coworker opens the battery case of the thermometer and finds it rather brown inside. As she’s new and unsure of what to do, she asks my opinion.

I take note of the brown and then notice that the outside of the thermometer is damp.

Me: “It looks wet. Could it be water damage?”

My coworker tilts the thermometer to try to see the battery better, and suddenly, about two teaspoons of very brown, very murky water run out of the battery compartment and onto our bench.

Customer: “Oh, no, it’s not water damage. I mean, I did wash it, but it was broken before that. I used it on my horse because he’s sick and I didn’t think you’d want to handle it unless I washed it first.”

Yep. We now had horse poo water on our bench and on my coworker’s hands. From the condition of the battery compartment, I strongly suspect that this may not have been the first time the customer had washed the thermometer.

Despite my misgivings, my manager gave the customer the exchange anyway. My coworker disposed of the used thermometer and scrubbed the bench and her hands very thoroughly.

Ah, the joys of working retail.

I had a lady pick up [painkiller] for a dog. It was a pretty early refill and I was bored, so I went to our manager, and it turns out the dog had been filling this prescription all over town.

I just thought I’d try and broaden the search, so I just did the owner’s name and date of birth and found multiple other dog names all filling [painkiller]. I called the office and it turns out the vet this dog owner was using had just stepped down to be with her family and was not practicing. The owner used to work there but had been fired for calling in fake scripts. The office said they would take care of the issue.

The part that still makes me laugh about this whole sad situation was that the first dog’s name was Scrappy, and one of my techs chimed in, “I would have gotten away with it if it wasn’t for you meddling kids!”

I work in a pharmacy, so you can imagine that we get more than our fair share of sick, coughing people. Unfortunately, that also means that we get more than our fair share of people who insist they cannot wear a mask. While corporate has refused to allow us to use curbside service, my management HAS been very good at backing us up and insisting we can refuse service to people that don’t comply.

Customer: “Hi, I just need this script filled.”

Me: “Sorry, ma’am, can you please put on your mask?”

Customer: “No, I have a medical exemption.”

Me: “I’m afraid that I am going to have to insist.”

Customer: “I cannot wear a mask.”

Me: “Ma’am, we will refuse service to anyone who isn’t wearing a mask. Many of our customers are high-risk.”

At this, she lifts her script to press it flat against the plastic of the barrier between us.

Customer: “The sooner you give me these, the sooner I can leave and start taking them so that I can wear a mask. But I need this script first.”

I am about to keep arguing, but then I realise what the medication on the script is. It’s a strong prescription painkiller, used for nerve disease and shingles and its complications.

I then look at the woman’s face again, and  I realise the redness on her cheeks and jaw are not embarrassment or just a ruddy complexion but inflammation.

Me: “Sorry, ma’am. I’ll… get right on that.”

Could she have been clearer? Given the particular painkiller, probably not.

It is late, my husband and I are picking up some prescriptions at the only twenty-four-hour pharmacy in our area, and we decide to get some much-needed OTC meds for the household. As it’s so late, there is only one cashier. We stand the appropriate six feet back, both in masks per state ordinance. There is a gentleman ahead of us at the register who is taking an exceptionally long time because his total is “unsatisfactory”. I should note he is NOT wearing a mask and is getting uncomfortably close to the cashier.

Customer: “Okay, go through the items again and tell me every price.”

Cashier: “All right.”

The cashier begins reading the list, for what is probably about the third time.

Customer: “No! No! Your signs say those things are cheaper!”

Cashier: “Like I told you before, sir, those prices are with our store card, which I can sign you up for. It’s free.”

Customer: “Absolutely not! Go through it again and give me the correct price!”

At this point, he is leaning over the register and is basically inches from her face. Since the cigarette shelves are right behind her, she cannot step that far back. Finally, I walk forward with my store card.

Me: “Here, scan mine. I have kids at home and want to get out of here.”

Cashier: *Obviously relieved* “Thank you.”

Customer: “Hold on, I need to grab a few more things, then!”

We all groan, but whatever will hurry him up. He comes back, adds about ten more things to be scanned, and then steps back. The cashier stares at him, as do my husband and I. After a few minutes, he snaps his fingers and glares at me.

Customer: “Well?! What are you waiting for!”

Me: “Huh?”

Cashier: “Sir?”

Customer: “She scanned her card. Hurry and finish this so I can leave!”

Cashier: “Sir, it’s totalled out. Now you just have to pay. Did you need something else price- checked, or…?”

Customer: “But she scanned her card!”

Me: “And…?”

Customer: “Then scan it again or something, but hurry up!”

Me: “I’m not sure I follow.”

Customer: “Hurry and pay so I can leave; you scanned your card already once!”

I suddenly realize he thinks I offered to pay for his items.

Me: “Dude, I just scanned the discount card. I’m not paying for your stuff!”

Customer: “Well, why else would I get the rest of the stuff I needed?! Oh, my God, f*** this! F****** poor people!”

He shoved his items over the counter at the cashier and stormed out. We all just stood there in shock. Not only did he think I was offering to pay, but he actually added MORE stuff. I guess late nights always bring out the weirdest people.