Throw In Some Stress Pills While You’re At It

(I go to a podiatrist because I have a fungal infection, and he wrote me a prescription for some pills and says that he will send it to the pharmacy. I go to the pharmacy for the medicine.)

Me: “Hello, I’m here to pick up this prescription?”

Clerk: “Okay.”

Me: “Here it is.”

(I hand what the doctor gave me over. It has the pharmacy name and address, and the doctor’s name and address. She frowns and squints at it, looks at the computer, and frowns again.)

Clerk: “This is your doctor?”

Me: “Yes, Dr. [Name].”

Clerk: “Okay…”

(She gives me a narrow-eyed suspicious look and leaves. I figure that she went to give it to the pharmacist to fill. I wait a minute, and then ask again.)

Me: “Hello, I’m trying to pick up my prescription?”

Same Clerk: “Name?”

Me: “Name.”

(She goes and gets it, but doesn’t hand it over.)

Same Clerk: “ID?”

Me: *gives it*

Same Clerk: “Address?”

Me: *gives it*

Same Clerk: *scowls suspiciously, frowning at computer*

(At this point, I’m getting annoyed. It’s been over 15 minutes.)

Me: “It’s me! That’s my prescription!”

Same Clerk: “Well… okaaay.”

(She hands it over, along with my ID, still unsure. Not all of us are drug abusers, lady.)