- Im a fucking tool for spelling AISLE as ISLE. Good thing I only count by 5's for a living. #
So life has been slow around the Angry Pharmacy. Same crackheads, same rants, same bullshit. Hence why the posts have been really slowing down. I’m going to throw in a funny post in the midst of bitching how pharmacy is going to be ruined by Express Scripts and MediCal for your enjoyment.
Now there is something really unique about me. I have an uncanny supernatural ability to keep a straight face. Doesn’t matter how loud someone blows a fart, or if I’m consulting on how far up your vagoo you need to shove that monistat 7 applicator (Uh, to the hilt baby, fish that fucker out with your fingertips!) I wont crack a smile, or laugh, or do anything but be Mr Professional.
In fact, its a rite of passage in the Angry Pharmacy for new employees that while they are helping a patient, I rip the loudest, rumblest, most wet sounding fart I can muster with the pot of coffee in me, then stand there looking over the very top of my monitor to what happens out front. Ive learned that if you pretend you didn’t hear it, they patients don’t think you did it (or they are hearing things). The seasoned employees quickly turn around to “check on the bags” or to do something while they laugh to themselves while the newbie sits there staring the patient in the face wondering what the fuck just happened. I don’t care if its fucking unprofessional, coffee makes you fart and its better to let it rip than to hold it in and end up blowing ass-chowder later on during the day when you’re up to your armpits in new prescriptions. A few times this has backfired on me and I actually shit my pants in the store, but even the best have a bad day.
It was winter, cold, damp, winter. The day previous I stayed late with a few of my clerks to mop the floor out front. I was pretty proud about how clean we got the floors. That was karma warning me my day was about to get a whole lot worse.
There had been a bug going around town that caused a sudden urge to puke your guts out. Some call it the stomach flu, I call it CHA-CHING the price of compazine just went up! The store was absolutely full of idiots with Z-Pak prescriptions for their colds. Im not sure why I decided to look up from my usual 1000 yard stare into my monitor trying to decypher a stupid insurance reject, but I remember the guy plain as day. The glazed over look in his eyes, and the urgency that he must cut everyone off and march up to the front of the line. He ran to the front, and waved the prescription in my clerk’s face like it was a winning lotto ticket.
“Can you please fill this for me right now, I dont fee-BLLLLLLLLLLAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAARRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRGGGGGGGGGGGGGG.”
For a second, time stopped as I saw pancake batter consistancy vomit erupt from the mans face, and plop down onto the counter. The clerk jumped back like a snake was going to bite her vagina and threw me the prescription as the vomit was making a perfect large pancake pattern on top of the counter in front of him. I scanned the room as the chatter of pharmacy died down to an eery silence. Vomiting is contagious, and I looked with almost childlike glee to see who would start to dry heave. To my dismay, everyone covered their faces and eyes and no chain-puking took place. I was disappointed.
I looked at the prescription that had been clutched so tightly that it was nothing more than a ball of clumped moist paper. Compazine tablets. I decide to take matters into my own hands and change the tablets to suppositories, since I’m sure the floor doesn’t need any Compazine, and thats where these tablets were headed if he put them in his pancake-batter dispenser.
The poor man got a free garbage can and was on his way sitting down when another wave of heaves took their toll. The sound I heard after that (over the heaving) I can replay it in my head 1000 times, but its hard to put into words. The closest thing I can say is that if you percolated air through thick chocolate pudding and muffled it with a pillow. Thats what I heard. Oh, and I used chocolate pudding for a reason, because thats the consistancy of what now filled the poor mans pants.
At that point the entire store was in horror. Me, being a compassionate caring pharmacist, was sorta pissed off that my ingenious suppository switch was in vain. Tablets go in, tablets go out. Suppository goes in, suppository gets shot out. I seriously couldn’t win.
The poor man eventually left with suppositories in hand, and 2 free garbage bags to take with him on his journey home. The bucket, gloves, mop, and squeegee came out to clean up the mess, and life went on as usual.
If you work retail, this will eventually happen to you. Mark my words, your floor will be a magnet for vomit and poop. Not just any poop, usually old people poop or little kid poop (that they like to step in afterwards and track all over the pharmacy while the mother ignores them while texting her baby-daddy).
It always happens after you stay late to mop the floor. Every. Single. Fucking. Time.