Let me begin this post by saying without question that I love my pharmacy. We are on a first name basis. They have stood by me through thick and thin – although admittedly they didn’t really have a choice – dutifully filling one prescription after another for the past ten years. They have seen me through the extreme: spider bites *shudder*, MRSA *gag*, spinal migraines and meningitis; the more mundane: yeast infections, hypothyroidism and 9 months of morning sickness, and, for the past 15 months, the completely unknown *tantrum*. It’s a mutually beneficial relationship. They make millions off of me and my insurance company, and I, well, to be honest, I get these cool little orange bottles with childproof caps full of an entire smorgasbord of legal mood-altering, pain-reducing, vomit-decreasing, bite-healing, thyroid-controlling, trial and error drugs. I love my pharmacists and my pharmacists love me. Well, most of them do.
I am not a irrational customer, I don’t complain when my medications get mixed up, I don’t throw a fit when they aren’t ready on time, I don’t yell at anyone when they fill a certain prescription with the generic brand that I am allergic to for the fourth time. I am calm, polite, even overly nice (to a fault Charles would add) as I explain the mistake and wait for the fix.
I have to admit a not very well kept secret – I am high maintenance. Here’s the deal though, all my little high maintenance-ites - if you admit that you are high maintenance, then it cancels it out. No one can hold it against you once you claim it. So claim it, hold that HM flag high and true. Make it with glitter and demand the flagpole is solid gold. Let it fly! Be proud! Ugh….I just can’t help it…. another rabbit trail, for another day…..
Okay, so we all get it, I am high maintenance. To some drugs, I have crazy reactions that they have never even heard of before, causing them more work as they repeatedly fill new brands and different types of the same drugs just to find one that doesn’t make my mouth break out in a rash, or my muscles to twitch uncontrollably. And I am also a bit forgetful. I know, I know – who would have ever thought? There have been numerous times when I call right before closing, as I have just at that instant realized I have none, I am talking Z.E.R.O., pills left.
So come to think about it, maybe they don’t love me. Hmmmmmm……maybe the real draw is the millions. Now that I processing this more, what if they get a bonus every time they fill more than one RX per day for a single customer????
Okay, {{head shake}} I’m just teasing, back to reality…..
We had a situation today. It was a simple miscommunication between my doctor’s office and the pharmacy; with sweet little old me stuck smack dab in the middle. Admittedly, I had not realized there was an error on my refill until I was down to one pill……but when I called to fix it, the pooh-pooh hit the fan. I needed 90 pills for 3 a day, not 30 pills for 1 a day; the pharmacy says the dr called in 90 for 1 a day, but the dr’s office is mad because they swear they called in the 90 for 3 a day. In stereo I can hear, “IT”S NOT MY FAULT!!!!” It was like two toddlers arguing over who spilled grape juice on momma’s favorite dress, both parties are whining and crying, adamant that it wasn’t their fault, when in reality, who gives a flying fruitcake, it’s momma’s dress that is ruined!
To top it all off, Miss Little RUDEy two shoes ended up being my pharmacy liaison and all I got all morning was her bitter attitude and eye rolling, whining and smart aleck answers. I tried to remember that she might be having a bad day for some other reason, and give her some grace. I used it as an opportunity to teach Robyn that sometimes we have to be nice even when others treat us bad. Not that I’m perfect, I was annoyed, but I didn’t let it affect the rest of my day like I would’ve a year ago. In the end, I got the right prescription and it was all good. Now I just hope little Miss RUDEy two shoes isn’t working tomorrow….cause I just realized I need another refill. *chuckle*
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