Not Sure If They Need Less Medication Or More

, , , | Right | September 21, 2017

Me: “Good evening, and thank you for calling [Big Name Pharmacy]. How can I help you?

Customer: “I need to identify a pill.”

Me: “Absolutely. Can you give me a description?”

Customer: “It’s a yellow, round pill with an ‘A’ on it. It’s pretty dirty, though.”

Me: “Oh, I really wouldn’t take any medication that appears damaged or contaminated.”

Customer: “No, it’s okay. I found it on the ground outside.”

Me: *professionalism waning* “Uh… what? You found it where?”

Customer: “I found it on the… the street just now, and I want to make sure it’s okay to take.”

Me: *professionalism out the window* “Do you usually eat random s*** off the street?!”

Customer: *hangs up*

Raising A Monster Versus Monster Parenting

, , , , | Right | September 21, 2017

(Around the holidays, the tension is really high for people to get their prescriptions on time before going on vacation, so the pharmacy area is packed with close to forty people. I overhear this exchange as I’m ringing up a customer with an especially rude son.)

Me: “That will be $4.50, please.”

Customer: *digs in her purse for her wallet*

Customer’s Son: “Geez, stupid b****. Can’t you hurry up!? I want to go home, now!”

(A lady a few people back snaps her head towards him with a face that is the essence of “Oh, HELL no!”)

Customer’s Son: “God, Mom. Every time we go somewhere, it takes you for-f***ing-ever!”

(The lady a few people back is now breathing very loudly through her nose.)

Customer: “Sweetie, if you wait a minute, we can go get you a burger.”

Customer’s Son: “You bet like hell you are.” *points finger in her face* “You owe me big, woman. I could have been home hours ago out of this s*** heap with you. I’m bored out of my f***ing skull.”

(The lady a few people back is now looking anywhere but at the teenager, shaking her head violently, tapping the side of her purse, and muttering, “Mm-mm, mm-mmmm,” to herself.)

Customer: “Okay, look, honey. We’re done.”

Customer’s Son: “ABOUT D*** TIME, B****!”

(The customer and her son just pass around the corner, when the lady a few people back suddenly swings around, grabs both her teenage sons with one hand, and starts hitting them both with her purse.)

Lady: “DON’T.” *smack* “YOU.” *smack* “EVER.” *smack* “TALK.” *smack* “TO.” *smack* “ME.” *smack* “LIKE.” *smack* “THAT!” *smack*

(Some people are staring open-mouthed, others are cheering her on, but I am face-down on the counter, laughing hysterically. When it is the lady’s turn, I am still choking down tears.)

Me: “Yes, ma’am. How can I help you?”

Lady: “You’re laughing, but I’ll do the same to you if I ever hear you talking like that.”

Me: “Yes, ma’am. You’re a great woman.”

Lady: “That’s because I was taught how to respect my parents.”

(Faith in humanity restored. Thank you, purse lady!)

Won’t “Let It Go” To Delivery

, , | Right | September 14, 2017

(I work as a pharmacy technician and, as part of verifying a patient’s identity, I ask them to verify the address we have on file. A man with three rows of skulls tattooed on his forearm is picking up for someone else.)

Me: “Can you verify the address?”

Customer: “[Street number], uh, gosh, it’s the snowman from that Frozen movie!”

(The street was Olaf. I laughed and sold him the prescription.)

Unfiltered Story #93136

, | Unfiltered | September 8, 2017

Unfortunately, the postcode of where I live doesn’t always show up correctly with all the auto-address fill-in databases in common use. I live on a small private road (let’s call it Minor Avenue) just off a main road (let’s call it Main Road). My address is 6 Minor Avenue, Main Road, Coventry, Postcode. Some databases have it as 6 Main Road, Coventry, which does not exist. Where there should be a building is actually an open plot of land sometimes used as a temporary car park.

When I give my details over the phone, I always double check the person filling in the details has the correct information.

A few months ago, I wasn’t very well, and could foresee me needing a lot of medicine. As such, it was necessary to buy myself a pre-payment prescription card, which I did at the pharmacy. It was them that contacted the company that issues the cards, rather than me, by using their website.

Two weeks later, and I still hadn’t received my card through the post, so I rang up the prepayment people. My card had been dispatched, and when the person I was talking to double checked the details, he saw the problem and burst out laughing.

Him: I see the problem – your card has been sent to the address 6 Coventry. That was all they put!

Unfiltered Story #91908

, , | Unfiltered | August 21, 2017

I drop off a prescription at the pharmacy counter.

Pharmacist: We’re pretty busy. Do you want to wait or come back in about an hour?

Me: I have some other errands to run. I’ll come back around 1:30.

Pharmacist: That should be fine.

I come back about 1:40. The woman ahead of me in line at the pick-up counter is obviously angry and snarking at the shy young pharmacist. Eventually she steams off.

Me: Hi, do you have a prescription ready for (my name)?

Pharmacist: I’m so sorry. We’ve been really busy. It will probably be another 15 minutes or so. Would you like us to deliver it to your home?

Me: Oh, no. That’s fine. I’ll just run over to (supermarket) and come back.

About 20 minutes later:

Pharmacist: We’re just getting your order together. Do you mind having a seat for a couple of minutes?

Me: No problem.

A few minutes later, she calls me up to get my prescription.

Pharmacist: Thank you so much for being so patient. I’ve already had two people yell at me today.

Me: No problem. It’s not like it was your fault.

Pharmacist: They don’t seem to care about that. Thank you so much again.

Me: Hope your day gets better.

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