I once worked at a pharmacy chain. To give some idea of how long ago this was, digital photography was in its infancy — a six-megapixel photo was state-of-the-art — and one-hour photo processing was in its heyday. I worked in the photo department, which doubled as customer service and the complaint department. Managers had to do all refunds since they required a key. The problem was that most managers didn’t enjoy having to put up with the typical customer who wanted refunds and would often try to put it off if there was anybody else, customer or otherwise, who they could possibly help.

(I owe that job a certain debt of gratitude; it taught me a lot about how to deflect blame from myself to people higher up the chain of command… where it usually belonged.)

One day, the PA system decided that it was being too quiet when employees used it to page, and suddenly, any announcement we made was loud enough to be heard at the fast food drive-thru next door. (I’m guessing a software update of some sort went sideways.) I managed to figure out within a day or so that holding the phone backward but otherwise speaking normally when paging would result in the PA producing a more reasonable volume, as opposed to trying to find the right distance and vocal volume that worked. I shared this with my coworkers, and it became the new norm for paging announcements.

Thus began my reign of terror over the management team.

Nothing had changed about their lack of enthusiasm in handling refunds, but when they tried to pretend I didn’t exist, I would pull out my trump card: “Do I need to turn this phone around and page it? Because I’ll do it.” It was usually enough to convince them to stop ignoring the angry Entitled Jerks and quickly finish up with whatever they were doing.

One particular manager decided he was going to call my bluff one day. He finished up with the customer he was working with and came by to let me know he was going on break, having waited for the refund customer to be about twenty feet away looking at something. I waited for the door to the employee area to close and then went over to the customer — an entitled jerk through and through, and I honestly don’t really blame [Manager] for not wanting to deal with her. I suggested she might want to plug her ears.

I then followed through on my threat.

Me: *Over the PA* “MISTER [MANAGER] TO PHOTO FOR A REFUND.”

The entire store went dead silent for a good four or five seconds. Even the muzak was quieted for a moment while the software parsed what I had just done to the PA.

[Manager] came out, did the refund, gave me the dirtiest look you can imagine, and went back to take his break.

Fast forward a few weeks. The PA still hadn’t been fixed. Other managers, having heard that I was, in fact, not afraid to follow through on my threats of excessive volume, practically materialized from the aether — sometimes several at once — as soon as I made the page that I needed one of them to help a customer.

The one I actually did abuse the eardrums of, on the other hand, had not learned his lesson and was again taking his time in coming to my counter to issue a refund. (It was for one of my regulars, not the same customer. That would have been too poetic.) [Manager] lazily strolled right past my counter toward the stockroom, saying he’d be back in a few. I again offered the threat of turning the phone around, and he again said he’d be right back while maintaining his nonchalant pace.

What I didn’t realize was that the district manager was at the store at that time. He overheard me saying that, and I probably turned pale when I saw him come out of an aisle and head my way.

District Manager: “What did you say?”

He sounded more confused or curious than upset.

Me: “The PA only works right if you hold the phone backward and talk into the back of the mouthpiece when you page. They hear us next door if we page holding the phone normally. I’ve got a customer waiting for a refund.”

I gestured toward the aforementioned customer.

Customer: *Waving off the concern* “It’s all good; I can wait a few.”

[District Manager] wasn’t having it, and he gave me his orders.

District Manager: “Customers come first, and he’s checking on something I asked him about. Call for the refund, and don’t hold the phone backward.”

Cue malicious compliance.

Me: *Picking up the phone* “You may want to plug your ears.”

The customer thought I was joking but did so anyway. [District Manager] did not.

Me: *Over the PA* “MISTER [MANAGER] TO PHOTO FOR A REFUND.”

Again, silence.

[Manager] came out of the stockroom, ready to lay into me about having abused the PA (and his eardrums) again, but he held his tongue when he saw the district manager scowling in his direction. He did the refund.

[District Manager] apologized for the wait while still glaring daggers at [Manager] and said he wanted to talk to him in the stockroom after the customer had left. I was amused to note that [Manager] didn’t dawdle when heading for the stockroom this time, walking as fast as he could without actually running. [District Manager] took a couple of steps to follow but then paused.

District Manager: “How long has the PA been doing that?”

Me: “About a month or so, I think.”

District Manager: “I saw the fix ticket for it a ways back but didn’t realize it was this bad. I’ll escalate it.”

Then, he followed [Manager] into the stockroom.

The PA was replaced before the end of the week. So was [Manager].

And thus ended my reign of terror over the managers, though it made enough of an impact that they decided not to ignore refund pages after that — just in case I or another photo clerk decided to find more horrifying ways of ensuring their compliance.

(Okay, it was probably the reaming by [District Manager] that did that, but a lowly cashier can dream.)

A somewhat regular comes in to pick up a prescription.

Me: “Do you have any questions for the pharmacist regarding the medication?”

Customer: *Loudly.* “Do you know what the medication is for?”

Before I can respond, he again loudly announces:

Customer: “It’s for herpes!”

I almost lost all sense of professionalism when the guy behind him took two big steps back.

I was prescribed Tramadol for my sciatic pain a few years ago; the pain was so bad that I literally couldn’t get up, sit, or walk without it. I’d actually had to take a couple of weeks off work as my doctor and I were experimenting with less-potent drugs, but this was the only one that worked. On Tramadol, I was perfectly functional; off of it, I was bedridden.

I had to refill the prescription in another EU member state once, and they gave me trouble at the pharmacy, questioning the doctor’s choice of the drug. I had to explain to them that maybe they should just do their jobs and fill in the prescription since they weren’t my doctor.

Then, one day, I took a trip to Egypt. (The condition lasted almost a year before it cleared, and I couldn’t put my life on hold, so I tried to live a normal life in the meantime.) To my horror, I discovered that I had forgotten to pack enough pills, and I would be out of them soon. I also didn’t have a valid prescription with me. I thought I’d try my luck at the hotel pharmacy; maybe Egypt had different rules that could work in my favor this time?

I explained my situation to the pharmacist, and she immediately handed over a box of Tramadol and told me the price.

Me: *Happy but confused* “Wait. Isn’t this a prescription-only drug over here?”

Pharmacist: “Yes, it is!”

Me: “But I don’t have a prescription with me; that’s part of my problem!”

Pharmacist: “Yes, you do!”

Me: “I don’t understand.”

Pharmacist: “We just wrote you one!”

Me: “But don’t you need a doctor for that?!”

Pharmacist: “See that gentleman in the lab coat sitting over there? He’s our doctor. He just wrote you a prescription.”

The hotel pharmacy actually employed a doctor who’d write prescriptions for hotel guests! There’s probably a ton of stuff wrong with this setup, but it certainly saved my butt this time, so the last thing on my mind was to complain.

This story reminded me of the last time I got my prescriptions refilled. Relevant to this story is the fact that I have two prescriptions: one for ADHD and one for depression.

I had recently come home from college for winter break, and after checking my meds, I decided that I should get them refilled before New Year’s Eve happened and our deductible reset. Not wanting to have to bother people on a holiday, I called [Small Pharmacy] two days before Christmas Eve to see if they could transfer my prescription to [Large Pharmacy], which was much closer to home. [Small Pharmacy] told me that I needed to call [Large Pharmacy] and get them to ask for the transfer. Okay, I can do that. I thanked the person on the line, hung up, and called [Large Pharmacy]. 

They’re a large chain, so I was on hold for about half an hour before someone picked up, and then I gave her the information about the prescription and she said she would make sure it got done. I figured that would be the end of it. 

Fast forward to the day after Christmas. My mom went to the [Large Pharmacy] to pick some things up in the store section and decided that she might as well pick up my prescription while she was there. As it turned out, they only had one prescription for me — that of my ADHD meds. The lady at the pharmacy claimed it was because my antidepressants are narcotics (which they are not), so my psychiatrist’s office had to call them directly. My mom argued a bit with her, mostly trying to explain to her that they were not narcotics, before giving up. 

The next day, I called my psychiatrist’s office and asked them to call in the prescription, which they did.

I waited a few days before calling [Large Pharmacy] to check on the status of my prescription. Again, they only had the ADHD one filled and were unable to find any record of my antidepressant prescription. So, I called my psychiatrist’s office again, where they claimed to have already sent in the prescription to [Large Pharmacy] the day before. I tried to call [Large Pharmacy] again to check on this, but after being on hold for over an hour and fifteen minutes, I gave up.

Two days later, I was down to the last two pills of my antidepressants and figured I might as well just go to the pharmacy in person to see if that would help. I ended up getting my ADHD meds, but once again, they did not have any record of my antidepressants.

So, I gave up and did what any overwhelmed young person does when they need help: I texted my parents and asked them for help. I don’t know what my dad did but, he called [Large Pharmacy] and was able to get my antidepressants the same day.

I am not looking forward to the next time I come back from college and have to change pharmacies.

Related:
Oh, The Thrills Of Getting Your Pills

I work in a retail pharmacy in a somewhat small city/big town. There are three locations in town, but only one of them has a drive-thru.

One day while I was working at the drive-thru, a patient drove up with a dog in her car. This is pretty common, so we actually keep treats to hand out. 

The patient was pleasant throughout the transaction, and as usual, I offered a treat for her dog. It was around this point that she noticed my name tag, with [My Name] written on it. It’s an older name, so not many people have it, especially people my age.

She started gushing about how much she loved that name, and the dog with her even shared the name, as well! 

Ever since then, every time she sees me at the drive-thru, she gets excited and tells [Dog], “Look, there’s [My Name]!” On a phone call that I happened to pick up, she made sure to tell me Merry Christmas and Happy New Year if she didn’t get the chance to see me before then.

She is quite easily my favorite patient.