They All Need Eye Medication

(I work alone at the customer service counter, which is on the same elevated platform as the pharmacy. There is a sign with giant letters well over 12 inches tall and wide with the customer service department name over my head, and an identical one over the pharmacy windows. My counter is closer to the middle of the store, while the pharmacy’s main window is on the far right wall, since they have a drive-thru. The pharmacy always has at least two people working, several computers, and shelves upon shelves of prescription medicine, along with the higher strength cold and allergy medicine they hold behind the counter. The customer service counter is only big enough for one person, and it has a lottery machine, scratch-off tickets, a terminal for sending and receiving money, and a postal scale. There’s nothing behind me but a single computer and shelves filled with binders and store supplies. But people don’t pay attention to my surroundings, or the three places it says, “Customer Service,” and they just assume I’m the pharmacy since it’s elevated.)

Customer #1: “I need [OTC Medicine].”

Me: “Oh, sorry, you want the pharmacy. It’s—”

Customer #1: *suddenly pissed* “Isn’t this the pharmacy!?”

Me: *looks over at my lottery machine, postal calculator, and bookkeeping binders* “No. No, it’s not.”

Customer #1: *stalks down to the next window*

(Later that day:)

Customer #2: “Hi, I have this rash, and I’m wondering what you’d recommend—”

Me: “Wait, you want the pharmacy; it’s the far window.”

Customer #2: “I know, but the line is long; can’t you just tell me what I should take?”

Me: “I can’t recommend treatment. I’m sorry.”

Customer #2: “Can’t or won’t? It’s not that hard!”

Me: “So, when you go to a bank, do you ask the security guard to manage your account if the tellers have lines?”

(And the next day I work:)

Customer #3: *says absolutely nothing, just puts down a small scrap of notebook paper with some barely legible numbers on it*

Me: “What is this?”

Customer #3: *stares at me, confused, and just silently points to the scrap paper*

Me: “Sir, what is this for?”

Customer #3: *even more confused, silently puts his finger on the paper again, nudging it closer*

Me: *trying to figure it out, noticing the numbers seem to be in groups of five* “Is this lottery? Money orders?”

Customer #3: *in a barely audible voice* “…prescriptions.”

Me: *a little exasperated* “The pharmacy is the far window; this is customer service.”

Customer #3: *steps back, reads the sign with the twelve-inch letters that say, “Customer Service,” takes his shred of notebook paper, and drifts down the aisle*

(My manager walked in some time during that exchange, and he steps up after the customer has left.)

Manager: “So… this isn’t the pharmacy?”