This Lady Sounds Just Plain SCARY

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.