I work in a pharmacy that ships out two deliveries (to nursing homes) per day. We call these the first run and the second run. While the first run is being packed up, a couple of people stay in the main pharmacy to answer the phones. Today, it’s [Coworker] and me.

Me: “Pharmacy, how can I help you?”

Caller: “I’m so happy I got you! Thank you so much for being the one who answered! My name is [Caller], and it’s been such a long day. I have no patience for [Coworker]. I love her, but she just talks so slowly and it takes too long. Anyway, I’m glad I got you!”

I’m not sure how to respond because I don’t feel the need to share [Coworker]’s reasons for working at the speed she does, but I’m not going to bad mouth her, either. I wait patiently for the caller to finish saying how the whole conversation takes longer when she gets [Coworker], oblivious to the irony.

Eventually, she gets to the point.

Caller: “So, my name is [Caller] and I’m a nurse at [Facility]. One of my patients has an inhaler that’s not working, and we need it stat.”

I take the patient’s information and check when we sent the inhaler.

Me: “Well, I’m not sure why the inhaler isn’t working, but the patient has refills and is due for a refill anyway. I can put that through for tonight.”

Caller: “I’m going to need it for the first run.”

At this point, it’s 5:30. The cutoff for the first run is 4:00. Anything we get afterward is for the second run. However, it’s a rescue inhaler and we’re not super slammed, so I tell her I can try to push it through for her.

Caller: “So, that will be on the first run?”

Me: “I will try to get it on the first run, but it might end up on the second run.”

Caller: “Wait, so can we get it on the first run?”

Me: “I’ll do my best.”

Caller: “Thank you so much, and what was your name?”

While I was born and raised in the United States, and my accent is very American, my name is not English. It tends to throw people off.

Me: “[My Name].”

Caller: “I’m sorry, what was that?”

Me: “It’s [My Name].”

The pharmacist has been following my side of the conversation, and at this point, she speaks up. The caller can’t hear her.

Pharmacist: “Just hang up so we can take care of it already!”

Caller: “Could you spell that for me?”

Me: “Sure.”

I spell my name out, the caller hangs up, and I run the refill. 

Pharmacist: *Shaking her head* “Bless you, [My Name]. All I can say is bless you.”

Now I’m left with one question. If [Caller] was so happy that I answered the phone, who did she think I was if she didn’t remember my name?

I work in a pharmacy situated in a fairly rural area of my state. As such, the power grid in our town is more susceptible to things like storms and damage to power lines. Extended power outages are unfortunately not uncommon.

My closing tech calls me shortly before her shift is supposed to start to inform me that the power has been out in her neighborhood for over two hours and to ask if we have power. (We would have had to shut the pharmacy down if the power was out.) We are experiencing a typical desert southwest heatwave and she is concerned about leaving her dog without any cooling on a 110+ degree day. Since we have power and are open, she comes in. Note: I have ADHD and refer to my struggle to pay attention as my “squirrel brain”.

Tech: “Uh, boss, did you remember to check in the controlled substance order?”

Me: “Crap! I was going to right after lunch, but then I got distracted. The squirrel in my brain is being really active today.”

Tech: *Snorts* “Well, tell the squirrel to leave you alone and hop on that old hamster wheel they’ve got powering our grid. I need my power back on!”

I’m a medical intern. Little old groggy me is finally leaving the hospital after a thirty-six-hour-long shift, the second of the week. It is a Friday and I am really looking forward to everything going dark as soon as my head hits the pillow, but first, I need to go to a pharmacy. In my country, some pharmacies have a small lab adjacent where [contagious illness] tests can be taken, and a few lab technicians, chemists, and general practitioners may be found to do certain procedures, run certain tests, and make common diagnoses. Here is the thing: they are all wearing the full one-piece white, hooded suits and protective gear you all have seen so much. I am wearing surgical scrubs.

So, into the pharmacy goes sleep-deprived me. I immediately go on to examine the toothpaste and brushes. After a little while, I hear a throat being cleared.

Me: “Oh, my bad.”

I scoot over closer to the shelves to let the person walk by. Wrong answer.

Woman: “No, I need you to take a look at me. The line to the appointments area is too long.”

Confused, I turn and see a woman with an all-too-familiar look about her.

Me: “Oh, I don’t work here. I work in a hospital.”

I’m hoping this is enough justification for the woman to understand why I’m dressed the way I am. She, of course, dismisses my claim.

Woman: “You must work here; you’re uniformed and stacking shelves!”

Me: “No, but I’m sure an employee will be happy to help you.”

Woman: “You are a health worker; why don’t you help me?!?”

As an intern, I don’t even have my degree yet. I can’t and shouldn’t do much, even if I wanted to.

Me: “I’m not on duty, and I don’t—”

Woman: *Interrupting* “Hey!” *Snaps her fingers* “Hey!” *Snaps again* “I paid for my ticket just like everyone else. You will see me!”

Me: “Again, I don’t work here, and I have no obligation to do random consults in the wild whenever you please, lady.”

A floor tile nearly breaks upon the gaping of her jaws. At this point, she is pissed.

As if summoned by her indignation, a manager walks over and asks if all is well. The woman seizes her opportunity to talk faster than you can blink.

Woman: “No, this employee is very rude! I want him fired!”

Manager: “Umm, ma’am, he does not work here. Our employees wear—”

Woman: “He works here! Stop trying to cover for him. You need to fire him now. His behaviour is unacceptable. He refuses to help me!”

Manager: “Ma’am, I am going to have to ask you to stop harassing customers or leave.”

The woman, now enraged, lets out a hybrid between a roar and a sigh.

Woman: “Oh! I can’t believe the audacity of you people to treat customers this way. This is outrageous!”

She slaps the products off of the closest shelf, sending items flying onto the manager and me, and an accusatory index finger flying erratically.

Woman: “I will not give you a**holes any business, and I hope this putrid little pharmacy goes under!”

She stormed off, huffing and puffing.

I hurried off to pay and leave before she looked at the appointment ticket still clutched in her other hand, realized she’d paid for something she had not used, and decided to return, demanding a refund, or worse… attention.

I exited the pharmacy and movement caught my eye. I turned and I saw the woman inside her SUV, clutching her steering wheel and violently pushing and pulling herself. Then, she saw me. The horror! I walked faster, trying not to look at her. She lowered a window and started screaming some more at me. I ignored her and hurried to my escape pod on wheels. Escape successful.

I’m a pharmacy cashier. A woman drops off a script for four suppositories.

Customer: “I told the tech that I just wanted you to fill one!”

Me: “I’m sorry, but there is a minimum amount that we can charge for a cash script due to dispensing fees, and one suppository costs the same amount as four, so they went ahead and filled four in an attempt to be helpful.”

She then becomes verbally abusive. After the pharmacist explains that we were just trying to save her money, she tops it off by yelling at me.

Customer: “WHAT AM I SUPPOSED TO DO WITH THESE EXTRA SUPPOSITORIES?!”

Rarely do such perfect opportunities appear in nature, and to this day, many years later, I still regret that I didn’t tell her what to do with them.

Customer: “Why are you charging me a $30 copay for this medication? My sister takes the same and has a $7 copay!”

Me: “You must have different insurance than your sister. Her plan decides the copays.”

Customer: “You are discriminating against me for being old!”

Me: “Well, the non-brand generic version of this medication is only a $5 copay.”

Customer: “No! You are not going to get away with giving me fake pills!” *Storms out*