Me: *Answering the phone* “This is [Pharmacy]. How can I help you?”

Caller: “You gave me the wrong pills!”

Me: “I’m sorry to hear that, ma’am. Did the bag have your name on it?”

Caller: “It’s my name, but the wrong pills are in the bottle!”

Me: “It’s possible we refilled one of your other prescriptions on—”

Caller: “No! The wrong pills are in the bottle!”

Me: “All right, can I have the number on the bottle?”

Caller: “Oh, no, you don’t! I’m not giving that to you.”

Me: “All right, can I have your name, please?”

Caller: “No! I’m on to your tricks!”

Me: “Ma’am, I need to look up your file so I can figure out what the problem is.”

Caller: “No, you don’t! I know your sly ways. You’re just going to change my file so you can cover up your mistake!”

Me: “Ma’am, I don’t have that ability. I’d like to help give you the proper medication. Can you please tell me your name?”

Caller: “No! You’re going to change the names of the medications on my chart to hide your screwup!”

Me: “Well, ma’am, can you come back to the store so I can verify the wrong pills were given?”

Caller: “No! I’m holding onto this bottle! It’s evidence!”

Me: “Ma’am, I can’t change any ‘evidence,’ since you have a printed label on the bottle. Can you tell me the name of the medication?”

Caller: “No! Do you think I’m stupid? I’m not telling you anything!”

Me: *Sighs* “Okay, ma’am, if you won’t let me see your file or the pills, and you won’t bring it back, then what would you like me to do?”

Caller: “I want you to know that you’re a horrible pharmacy. And you are a terrible person!”

Me: “Excuse me? I’m trying to help—”

Caller: “No, you are an awful person! You don’t deserve to be in business, trying to poison me with the wrong pills!”

Me: “Well, can you describe them to me? Are they white? Oval?”

Caller: “I’m not telling! You are a bad person!”

Me: “Ma’am, I would really like to help you, if you could give me some informati—”

Caller: “No, you don’t! Shame on you for trying to kill me and then hiding the evidence!” *Click*

Related:
Well, Ain’t She Just A Pill, Part 2
Well, Ain’t She Just A Pill

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In the early 2000s, I worked in a grocery chain pharmacy. While I didn’t witness this story, it happened while I worked there, and I knew the employees involved.

One of the pharmacists at another store, Larry, was an old-timer close to retirement. He was a nice guy, quiet, and very laid back.

One day, someone decided to rob the pharmacy.

The robber handed the pharmacy technician a note demanding all of the [drug #1]. I think it was implied he had a weapon, but it’s been so long that I don’t really remember. Either way, the tech was terrified and completely froze. In stepped Larry, who read the note and calmly looked the robber dead in the eye.

Larry: “Sorry, we’re out.”

They most definitely were not out as that medication was a “fast mover” and, had he known what to look for, the robber would have seen a large jar of it in plain view on an end shelf.

Robber: “Well… give me the [drug #2]!”

Larry: “Nope. Out of that one, too.”

Rinse and repeat a couple more times before the robber gave up and tried to run out of the store. Somehow, Larry notified other staff about what was happening, and [Grocery Manager] and [Store Manager] chased the robber down in the parking lot where [Grocery Manager] — a VERY large man — literally sat on him until police arrived.

The tech was severely shaken and sent home for the day while Larry insisted on getting back to work.

And that’s the day we learned Larry had no more f***s to give.

I am the manager at the small vet clinic where I work, but my desk is the front reception desk, so I also do a lot of reception work, and I assist the vet when needed. I am typing up a prescription label with the vet leaning over my shoulder dictating the directions, and the client on the other side of the counter is waiting to get their pet’s prescription and check out. Another two clients are filling out boarding paperwork, and the employee assisting the vet for the day is feeding the adoptable kitties. All these people and activities make our small lobby very full and noisy.

The next animal we have an appointment with belongs to an elderly lady who is somewhat hard of hearing. She walks in, and the other receptionist attempts to invite her up to the counter to get her pet checked in.

Before my coworker can make herself heard and understood over the din, a man we don’t recognize walks in and up to the counter, cutting in front of the actual client. Our reception desk is unfortunately too small to ignore someone right in front of it in favor of the person they cut in front of, so my coworker greets him so she can get him out of the way quickly.

Coworker: “Can I help you?”

Man: “Hi, I’m with [Pharmacy], and I wanted to speak to whoever’s in charge of ordering! We have great prices on compounded pet medications, and we have a toll-free number to make calling them in easier.”

Coworker: “Well, that would be my manager.”

She gestures to me. I hunker down and attempt to look EXTREMELY absorbed by the prescription I’m labeling.

Coworker: “But as you can see, she’s currently very busy.”

I didn’t catch what they said next, as I was scheduling my current client’s follow-up and getting them rung up, but I heard the man becoming increasingly pushy about getting someone to agree to hear his spiel. Thankfully, my coworker got him to leave right before I actually became available to deal with him. He left a flyer and his business card, and my coworker was finally able to check in with the client the man had cut in front of.

After our last appointment was discharged, I took the flyer and business card to the vet. She pointed out that if this pharmacy’s reps were so poorly-behaved in their prospective customers’ offices as to cut in front of clients and interrupt business to demand attention, how was the pharmacy going to treat any clients we send to them? We made a note of the pharmacy’s name and chucked their contact information in the trash.

I’m working in a pharmacy, and I answer the phone.

Patient: “I need to get my prescription of [medication] refilled.”

I do some checking and come back to the phone.

Me: “I’m sorry, sir, but that prescription isn’t due for another two weeks. You’ll have to call back after [date].”

Patient: “Oh, come on! Other pharmacies have done it for me!”

He was on a pain medication that’s classed as Schedule II — a controlled substance. Sir, the freaking Drug Enforcement Administration regulates those sales; don’t lie to me.

He did not get his medication that day.

I am working as a cashier. A guy in his mid-thirties comes in wearing an “Avengers” T-shirt.

Me: “So, are you excited about the Avengers movie?”

He looks at me like I’m stupid.

Customer: “Uh, no? Should I be?”

Me: “Oh, I thought you must be a fan since you’re wearing an Avengers T-shirt.”

Customer: “Oh. No, the last X-Men movie I saw was Green Lantern.”

I didn’t bother correcting him. It was obvious he had his own problems to deal with.