During my freshman year in high school, my science teacher assigned us to interview people in the community about how they use science in their careers. Although I don’t remember most of the people I spoke with, I can tell you that I spent meaningful time with a local community pharmacist who changed my life.
What I saw was a man who loved his career and truly cared for his patients. In an instant, I knew that I wanted to become a pharmacist, and I never wavered from that goal throughout high school.
Knowing what you want to be when you grow up at age 14 is unusual, but it is very liberating. I simply had to work backwards to figure out how to achieve my goal of becoming a pharmacist.
After high school, I chose to attend Ohio Northern University (ONU) because it had a unique pharmacy program. Rather than attending college for 2 years and then applying to the pharmacy program, ONU students were admitted to the College of Pharmacy from day one.
Although it was expensive, being in pharmacy school from day one and avoiding the risk of rejection made it worthwhile for me.
In college, I spent a lot of time in the library. Although the classwork was difficult, I did well with one exception: organic chemistry.
I did fail organic chemistry—a notorious “weed out” course—but I successfully retook the class over the summer and graduated on time with the rest of my classmates. Failing a course is a difficult stumbling block, but I stood strong and persevered.
Today, I’m thankful for the wonderful pharmacy profession for so many reasons.
First, I’m thankful that community pharmacists are the health care professionals most accessible to the public. If my local pharmacist wasn’t accessible to me, then I likely would have taken a different career path.
Second, I’m proud of the work we pharmacists do, the diversity of our career options, and the relationships we share with our patients and fellow health care providers.
Pharmacy is a profession that makes a real difference in people’s lives. It certainly has made all the difference in mine.
Doctor/Physician, Florida, Jerk, Lazy/Unhelpful, Medical Office, USA | Healthy | April 22, 2019
(I was diagnosed with a general anxiety disorder and panic disorder at nineteen, and have been on anti-anxiety medications since. Sometimes, they stop being as effective, or the side effects become worse, and I need to return to a doctor to change my prescription. This was never an issue before, as my dosage is low and I don’t require strong or addictive medication. However, after moving, I go to see a new doctor. The clinic has gotten all my medical records from my previous one, and I have filled out the forms, detailing my conditions. The doctor is a general practitioner, is male and middle-aged, and immediately seems to be only paying half-attention. I am a twenty-five-year-old female.)
Doctor: “Now, why is someone like you on anxiety medication?”
Me: *confused* “Because I have an anxiety and panic disorder. I was diagnosed years ago, as it says in my file.”
Doctor: “Have you ever tried losing weight?”
Me: “Uh, yes. I’ve been on diets since I was five. I do eat healthy, and I walk a mile almost daily–“
Doctor: “And you’re not working.”
Me: *having no idea what this has to do with anything* “No, not yet. I just moved states with my family.”
Doctor: “So, you plan on working? Or are you going to school?”
(I have absolutely no idea where this conversation is going, or why he’s suddenly asking about my life. In the back of my head, I’m hoping he’s trying to figure out what medication to put me on if I’m entering a more stressful situation.)
Me: “No, I’m not planning on going to college, and I’ve started looking for a job–“
Doctor: *cutting me off in a grandfatherly, scolding tone* “Now, why aren’t you planning on going to college? There are lots of good colleges around here.” *starts naming off colleges*
(I am getting increasingly embarrassed and flustered. I attended one year of community college, but my health had taken such a terrible turn from the constant stress and panic attacks I nearly ended up in the hospital. I didn’t continue.)
Me: “I’m… not really interested in going back to college, sir. Can we get back to my–“
Doctor: *dismissively* “Now, now, I’ve got a granddaughter your age; I know what I’m talking about. You don’t need more pills. What you need is to get your degree, lose weight, and find a good man to marry. You’re anxious because your life isn’t heading anywhere! I’ll put you on [medication] for now, but when you come back, I expect you to be enrolled somewhere, you hear?” *winking at me* “Doctor’s orders.”
(I was so bewildered and humiliated I just wanted to get out of the office. I took my prescription and never returned to his office again. I’ve had doctors be unprofessional before, but I’ve never had one lecture me on how going to college would magically cure my mental illness!)
Doctor/Physician, Hospital, Ignoring & Inattentive, Nurses, Patients, UK | Healthy | April 21, 2019
(I have appendicitis and have presented at the hospital late at night. These conversations take place over the time between then and finally having surgery the following afternoon. My cis female partner is with me throughout.)
Doctor: “Any chance you could be pregnant?”
Me: “No, this is my only sexual partner and she can’t get me pregnant accidentally.”
Partner: “Well, we aren’t using contraception.”
Me: “True. We’d make a fortune if you did get me pregnant, though.”
Doctor: “We have to do a pregnancy test, anyway.”
(Forty minutes later, in the surgical assessment unit…)
Junior Doctor: “And any chance you are pregnant?”
Me: “The GP did a pregnancy test and it was negative and no, no sperm has been anywhere near me.”
Junior Doctor: “Well, we will do another test.”
(Two hours after that, when I am finally seen by the on-call registrar…)
Registrar: “You must be in agony. Any chance you might be pregnant?”
Me: “You’ve done two pregnancy tests tonight, both negative. This is my only sexual partner. Please, can you just give me some pain relief?”
Registrar: “Yes, we will get antibiotics and saline set up via a cannula and get you some pain relief and then admit you. We need to do swabs for MRSA and a pregnancy test.”
Me: “I have not been able to keep anything down, including more than a sip of water, for over twelve hours now. I am quite dehydrated. The chances of me being able to pee into a cup are very slim.”
Registrar: “Well, just do what you can.”
(A few hours later, I am admitted in the middle of the night and finally given pain relief, and I wake up on the ward.)
Nurse: “Now, we have an order for a pregnancy test; apparently, you couldn’t produce a sample last night, but now that we have fluids in you, you should be able to.”
Me: “I have had two pregnancy tests already since I got here, but sure, let’s do a third.”
(Later, during surgical rounds…)
Surgeon: “Right, well, you’re on the list for urgent surgery. We will need to do a pregnancy test before we can operate, though.”
Me: “You have done three already. All negative. My only sexual partner doesn’t produce sperm and we are not trying for a baby.”
Surgeon: “Three? Maybe I can check those results.”
Me: “Thanks.”
(Nope, the nurse appeared with another cup for me to pee into. I had my appendix out and I was very definitely not pregnant.)
Doctor/Physician, Jerk, Medical Office, Non-Dialogue, USA, Virginia | Healthy | April 19, 2019
I am extremely susceptible to fungal infections like ringworm. It’s not a real problem, for the most part, just an unsightly nuisance. I had a mark on my arm that I knew from experience was a fungal infection, but the OTC drugs don’t work well on me, so while I was visiting a new doctor about an unrelated issue I asked her about getting a prescription for it. The doctor asked me why I needed it, so I showed her the mark on my arm and explained my history with these kinds of infections.
The doctor immediately got extremely snotty and annoyed with me. She said that I wasn’t a doctor — which is true — and that whatever that mark was, it was not a fungal infection, and that it could be very serious. She said I should tell her about any worrisome marks and then let her do her job — determining what they are and making decisions about my care — without making guesses about what the problem is. She announced that she was going to look at a sample of the mark to determine what it was and what needed to be done, took a skin scraping, and flounced out of the room.
Five minutes later she was back. She wouldn’t look me in the eye while she told me it was a fungal infection, handed me a script, and then marched out.
Albany, Blood Donation, New York, Silly, Spouses & Partners, USA | Healthy | April 17, 2019
(For those who don’t know, there is a specialized blood donation process called apheresis. In this type of donation, the platelets are separated out of the bloodstream and collected, while the rest of the blood is returned to the body. It takes longer than a regular whole blood donation but can be done more often so people can give more. The phone rings and I answer it.)
Me: “Hello?”
Caller: “Hello, this is [Caller] from the American Red Cross calling to speak to [Husband] about scheduling an apheresis appointment.”
Me: *calling out* “[Husband], it’s the Red Cross. They want to suck your blood!”
Hospital, Patients, Silly, UK | Healthy | April 15, 2019
(I’ve been referred to a gynaecologist. After taking my history he shows me behind a curtain, where there is a bed with stirrups, and asks me to get ready for an examination. After a minute or two, I am ready.)
Doctor: *from the other side of the curtain* “Are you decent?”
(My legs are in stirrups, and my genitals are completely exposed.)
Me: *jokingly* “Well, I definitely wouldn’t say I’m decent
Columbus, Doctor/Physician, Jerk, Medical Office, Ohio, USA | Healthy | April 14, 2019
(I am coming in for a routine checkup with my GP. I am female and he is going through all the questions. Then, we get to the contraceptive part.)
Doctor: “Are you on birth control?”
Me: “No, I don’t react well to it.”
Doctor: “So, what do you use for protection?”
Me: “Condoms.”
Doctor: “Condoms are fine and all, but not 100% effective. You should really also be on birth control pills.”
Me: “Well, I tried taking the lowest dose offered, but I gained a ton of weight and was always throwing up while I was on it. I don’t react well to it and prefer not to take it. Condoms work just fine.”
Doctor: “Just using condoms is like playing Russian Roulette! It does not protect you 100%!”
Me: *thinking to myself that the “pullout method” was more akin to “Russian Roulette* “Well, again, I get really sick when I’ve taken it in the past, so I really don’t want it.”
(He went on for about five minutes more on how I was being “risky.” I couldn’t help but feel he was being a “pill pusher” and not listening to what I was saying. At that point, I was 26 and married with a steady job, so if I did accidentally become pregnant it wouldn’t have been the end of the world. Every time I went in after that, he was always pushing birth control. I think I need a new GP.)
While doing our weekly grocery shopping it begins to storm outside, the kind of thunderstorm that will soak you to the bone in a matter of seconds. Once my wife, my 2 children, and I are done checking out we stop at the front door to decide if we want to wait for the rain to stop. After checking the weather we decide that it is going to last a while, so I just decide to suck it up and go out to get the car, leaving my wife and kids to wait for me to pull up. I of course get soaked to the bone on my way out. Once I get to the entrance I start loading my kids in the car when the store manager approaches us. I assume she is going to tell me I can’t park there, but instead she proceeds to help me load my groceries into the trunk, along with about 4 other employees all of them getting soaked as well. I have never had that kind of service before and it’s nice to know that there are still people out there willing to help their customers even if it doesn’t help their bottom line.
In 1936 my great-grandfather left the Royal Navy with the rank of Chief Petty Officer after 22 years service. He then joined the Admiralty as a Naval Paymaster. During the war he was posted to Ceylon (now Sri Lanka). Much to his chagrin, the authorities insisted that he be given a formal rank and appointed him Lieutenant-Commander. Although he had a uniform, he swore that he would never wear it.
One day a U.S. Sub-Lieutenant needed some information from him and demanded that he presented it to him on board his vessel the following morning. My great-grandfather went home and asked his wife to lay out his dress uniform.
“But Robert, you said you would never wear it.”
“Olive, tomorrow I am making an exception.”
The following morning he arrived at the U.S. vessel, in uniform, and was piped aboard. The vessel`s captain, being massively out-ranked by a Naval Lieutenant-Commander, asked very respectfully what he wanted. My great-grandfather said that Mr ***** had demanded that he bring this information to him and therefore he was doing so.
One hopes that the U.S. Sub-Lieutenant was never again quite so high-handed with a `civilian` worker and also that he recovered from the chewing-out that he will have received from his captain.
It’s happy hour at the bar I work at, we’re serving a regular we know well for being confrontational normally, and even worse when he gets drunk, but he never actually goes so far as to swing or do anything to incite something past words so we haven’t seen fit to kick him out, we also get people from a nearby military base pretty often, so you’d have to be an idiot to seriously pick a fight. I’m working the bar and see the regular is nearing his point and has gone to pick on someone who, to my horror, is an obvious amputee I haven’t seen before.
Regular: “Come on stumpy, come at me, I’ll even give you the first swing! Or are you gonna show me you’re half the man you used to be!”
The new guy grunts. Obviously annoyed but not wanting trouble he continues to ignore him, then the regular throws his drink in his face.
Regular: “Hey, what’s that on your finger, a wedding band? You even got the d*** to please her anymore? Tell ya what, you give me your address and I’ll go-”
Before anyone can react, the regular is on the floor bleeding from his mouth unconscious, the new guy wipes off his knuckles, sits down like nothing ever happened and goes back to his drink. At this point the soldiers in the bar are going OORAH, when one of them turns to me.
Other regular: “Guy over there is the toughest damn soldier I’ve met, lost his arm to a bomb and still managed to kill the guys that attacked his squad before getting rescued.”
I see the new guy pull out a piece of paper, write something on it, and slip it into the regular’s pocket. When the regular came to it was in the back of an ambulance. The regular was banned for attacking both a veteran and a disabled person as well as jailed for assault. And as for what was written on the note? According to the Vet it was; “What does it say about you that I could still kick your ass with one arm and one punch?”
(This is a small, locally owned coffee shop. A customer comes in with a couple of very energetic children who are excitedly jabbering back and forth to each other in a normal inside voice. The customer, their father and a regular, orders his drinks, pays and goes to wait with them, joining in their silly word game. A minute later another customer comes up to the bar to get their drink.)
Customer: “You need to kick those noisy brats out of here.”
Me: “I’m sorry ma’am, but I can’t kick them out for talking. They’re really not being that loud.”
Customer: “And their father, encouraging his kids to talk in public. Disgraceful. You should ban him for that.”
Me: “Ma’am we don’t ban people for entertaining their kids and we don’t kick kids out for talking in a normal tone of voice.”
Customer: (Yelling at me) “Listen you little b****, I’m the owner’s wife and I’m telling you to ban them right f******* now!”
Me: “I can’t…”
Customer: “Don’t you dare open your f****** mouth to argue with me you b***! I’ll have your a** fired.”
(I flinch at the tirade and find myself unable to respond. At this point the father comes up behind her.)
Father: “[My name], get yourself a drink on me and go on break. I’ll handle this. If your boss says anything just say I’ll explain.”
(He turns to the customer as I nod dumbly and turn to make myself a drink.)
Father: “First of all, you don’t treat other human beings like that. If you had any decency I wouldn’t have to tell you that. Second, my kids are being much better behaved than you are. Third, you weren’t even at the owner’s wedding. I was.”
Customer: (Smugly as if calling a bluff) “If you were at the wedding where were you sitting?”
Father: “I was standing right next to her.”
(The customer keeps smiling smugly for a few seconds before realization hits her like a sledgehammer. Her smile falters then she pales visibly and runs from the store. The owner’s husband covered for me for about 10 minutes while I took a break. When I came back there was a $50 bill in the tip jar. He’d never admit to it, but I suspect he put it in there.)
(I work at a grill. We don’t really have a vegetarian menu so this customer ordered a grilled cheese. A minute after I bring out their food she flags me down.)
Vegetarian: “I hate to be a bother but there’s um, something in my sandwich.” She shows me: a spider is stuck in the cheese. I’m freaking out, sure we’re going to have a bunch of unhappy customers.
The guy from the table next to hers tries to lean over and see it. He asks “What’s in it?”‘
Vegetarian: “Some kind of meat. I’m a vegetarian. I really hate to ask but could I please have a new one?”
Me: “Of course, I am so sorry. I’ll get that to you right away.” I rush the plate back to the kitchen and show the chef. He goes red and starts yelling at his staff. My manager runs over and demands to know what’s happening. I tell him.
Manager: “Who else saw? We can’t afford to comp more than three..”
Me: “Just her table. She told the other tables it was meat.”
My manager was so grateful he sent over an entire dessert platter and comped their meal. When I told her table their food free they left a $100 tip.
(I go to visit my 24-year-old best friend in Florida, because her boyfriend called me and told me he was going to propose. After he does so, offers her a ring, she takes it, hugs him, and then studies the ring.)
Her; what is this? *points to a small diamond on the band, that is reasonably sized*
Him; it’s a diamond! *grins*
Her; right. That’s a diamond… ha!
Him; babe, that ring cost $500!
Her; that’s not enough!
Him; what?!
She takes off the ring, and throws it into the sand, then stomps off. Her boyfriend looks at me and his friends who are standing with me, avoiding her family’s gaze. We go over to him, as her family follows him, and hug him. We hung out for the rest of my vacation, and my best friend got really angry with him. I ended up telling her to shut the f*** up, and just leave him alone, if she wanted to be such a greedy b****. Her boyfriend broke up with her then, and after a few months, visited me where I live, and we went out on a few dates. It didn’t work out, but we’re still good friends, and he did find a wife who loves her “small, cheap a** ring!” And finds the original proposal both disgusting and hilarious.
I worked nights during the week and long day shifts on the weekends at a popular burger place, known for their thick burgers. I have been on the clock for two hours when I hear yelling. It’s slow so I had to the back where the manager is yelling at the cooks. It turns out the young fools were bored and decided to play with the hose. They not only broke the sprayer but have torn the hose apart.
Just standing there looking at this fifteen-foot hose, I prayed I wouldn’t need it to clean the bathrooms. The connection to the sprayer was just hanging like a slinky and the sprayer was broken in two. One cook had the hose with the slinky, while the other cook had the handle part of the sprayer in his hand. Both boys were standing there soaked. The back half of the restaurant was soaked. Guess who had to clean up the dry stock and floors, ME. The fools had to clean the kitchen and freezer, it was right next door to where the hook up for the hose was located.
So the night continues, though the two bone heads now try to joke with me about cleaning the bathrooms, which I am dreading. I check the bathrooms. Woman’s is good, just some wiping down and sweeping but the men’s. There is one stall in there… just one… the rest is urinals. Will at some point a cherry bomb or a firecracker had been put in the toilet when it was full of SHIT. I just could not see someone pooping all over that stall because the ceiling and top part was also covered. This stall was ceiling to floor enclosed so a very small space with poop on every surface. Plus it was the farthest room from the front. I really needed that hose. Oh did I forget to say it was all dry and smelled.
No one complained about it and I had no clue when it happened. So I turned around walked right past the fools, who were snickering and right to the manager. I just told her to check out the men’s. She looked at me then the fools and went to see why I was near tears. I really was because I had no clue how to clean it or if I had time. Before she even returned I decided I wasn’t going to. The fools were back joking me and saying how I would be here all night. When did they learn I can’t say I just had a sinking feeling they had a hand in it.
My manager that night was the best, also she was pregnant. When she came back she was pissed. I mean fuming. She just watched them act a fool as she reached over to grab the buckets and brushes we kept near the hose before whistling.
“Since you think it is so funny, why don’t you go look yourself!” She said to them very calmly. They turned toward the kitchen to get back to work only for her to step in their paths. “Oh no. Since you boys broke the hose you are cleaning the men’s bathroom. Like you told (my name) it will take all night.” At that she thrusted the buckets and brushes into their hands and escorted them to the men’s. Her last parting words before turning the corner, “Start with the ceiling as that shit is going to be the hardest place to clean!”
I couldn’t believe what was happening. The cooks never cleaned the bathrooms because they had to stay with the food. As will as the cross contamination that could occur.
That night I learned how to make food and that my manager was a firm believer in Karma. They stayed in the bathrooms for the rest of the night. As I was leaving they were outside the men’s gagging and one of them had a streak down his back. His friend was trying to wipe it off with toilet paper. It was hilarious.
They never joked me about cleaning or ever touched the hose again. I stayed for another few years before I found a better job.
(I work in a call center in the comments/suggestions department. This is my first call of the day.)
Me:  220;Thank you for calling [company] comments and suggestions, this is [my name] speaking, how can I be of service today? 221;
Customer:  220;Hi, [my name], I want to start by telling you that I am in an extremely bad mood and that I realize that this is not your fault personally; I am just mad at [company], so if I am rude or aggressive in any way, I apologize. 221;
(The customer was actually the nicest call I had all day. I took down her complaint and flagged it as priority so that somebody would get to it quickly because she tried very hard not to yell at me for the company 217;s mistakes
[Several months back we started selling Star Wars themed Jell-O molds and very few of them sold, so our manager gave them to us cashiers to give away to customers. A few hours had gone by and I had quite honestly forgotten about them when a woman walked up to my register with her son, who started looking at the coloring books we have on display and I notice him looking at a Star Wars one.]
Me: (leans in a bit close, lowering my voice) Does your son like Star Wars?
Woman: Oh my gosh you have no idea! I asked if he wanted to go to the water park today and he said he’d rather sit at home and read the books I got him!
[I then mention the molds and ask if she would like one for him, and she immediately accepts.
Woman: Hey, [boy’s name], this nice lady has something for you! Like a present!
Boy: (puts down the book and walks over) But mom it’s not my birthday!
[I quickly finish the transaction and excuse myself to grab the mold from the register where they were stored. I return with it behind my back and crouch down a bit so I’m closer to his height.]
Me: So, your mom told me you like Star Wars?
Boy: (smiles and nods) Yeah, I love it!
Me: (pulls the mold out from behind my back and hands it to him) This is for you!
[The boy’s eyes lit up as he looked at the characters and he got the biggest grin on his face. He gave me the most sincere ‘Thank you!’ I have ever heard in my life and skipped off with his mom. I’m still grinning about
(We’re in year 2000 or close. As a teenager, I’m slim and “nicely built” (or so I heard), yet I am VERY modest, especially on the chest area, and my family know it and respect it. I don’t mind girls who wear low-cut clothes, I think it’s really great if they enjoy it and I HATE slut-shaming, yet I’d rather get slapped or punched than showing the slightest part of my “parts”. Up to now most girls and women used to wear swimmer one-pieces on the beach, and I loved it. However, bikinis are coming back into fashion and my mom wants to buy me one of those. I accept, thinking she’ll find me a modestly cut two-pieces or anything that’ll cover everything I want to cover. She makes me try a dozen bikinis on. All of them are too low-cut for my tastes, and the shop assistant (he’s male) is staring.)
Me: “Mom, I don’t feel good in any of those.”
Shop assistant: “Are you sure? Because you look great in ALL of those!”
Me: “I don’t feel good. I’d like to try something more modest, please.”
(The shop assistant comes back with a swimsuit that is even more low-cut than the previous one. I’m running out of patience).
Me: “I’d like to try a one-piece on!”
Mom: “But you look so much better in a bikini!
Me: “Mom, EVERYONE looks good in one-pieces! They hide all the flaws!”
Shop assistant: “Which flaws? Your mom’s right, you have a bikini body!”
Me: “It’s MY body and I want to try a one-piece. I just prefer stuff I can swim with without ever losing the straps.”
Mom: “Try this one on before.”
(I try it. It’s still too low-cut for my tastes.)
Me: “I’d prefer a one-piece.”
Shop assistant: “One-pieces are for grandmothers. Is that what you want to do, looking like a granny? That would be a waste!”
Me: “I’d like something that’s not THAT low-cut, please.”
Shop assistant: “Why? You have beautiful breasts.”
(He’s staring at my cleavage and I’m just a girl. I feel dirty. To all shop assistants who read this, if a customer ever tells you she wants something more modest, just give her something more modest. Don’t make her try sexy things on “for her own good” if she doesn’t want to, especially if she’s a teenager. Prude-shaming is just as wrong as slut-shaming.)
Hospital, Ignoring & Inattentive, Jerk, Nurses, USA |
Healthy | April 10, 2019
(My husband and I are very excited to expect our first child, but we sadly lose the baby just before Christmas. I am scheduled for a D&C the next day. The nurse takes me back to the bed to get changed and this happens.)
Nurse: “When was your last menstrual period?”
Me: “Uh… like three months ago?”
Nurse: *handing me a cup* “Okay, the bathroom is right in there; we’re going to need a urine specimen.”
Me: “That’s really not…”
Nurse: “When you come back, put on the gown, opening in front, and put all your clothes in this bag.”
(She heads off to do something else.)
Husband: “Does she not know why you are here?”
(My urine sat on a table for the next three hours until I was wheeled into the operating room. I did not see that nurse again the entire time I was there, and everyone else was smart enough to offer condolences instead of asking me to take a bloody pregnancy test!)
Employees, Florida, Jerk, Pharmacy, USA | Healthy | April 9, 2019
(I take 150 mg of a seizure medication per day. It does not come in 150 mg tablets, though, so my doctor has written two prescriptions for it, one for 50 mg and one for 100 mg. I’ve been taking this dosage for over two years. I’ve used the same pharmacy the entire time. This happens one day when I go to pick up my prescription.)
Me: “Hello, I’m here to pick up my prescription.” *gives information*
New Tech: “Oh, that’s weird; I actually have two here for you. Do you take the 50- or 100-mg dose?”
Me: “I take both. My prescription is for 150 mg, and that’s the only way it can be filled.”
New Tech: “That’s not right! You can only take one or the other, not both.”
Me: “I assure you it’s correct. If you look at my records, you’ll see that the same prescription has been filled for over two years. I know most people either take one or the other, but it’s a seizure medication, so the dose can actually go up to 400 mg based on symptoms and therapeutic levels.”
(The tech continues to argue with me that I can only get one or the other because most people take either 50 mg or 100 mg, not 150 mg. I ask her to get the pharmacist. The tech goes over and tells him what’s going on. He looks up, see who it is, waves, and tells her that yes, it’s correct. She starts arguing with him that it cannot be correct. He just takes my prescription from her, walks over, and checks me out himself.)
Pharmacist: “Sorry about that. Here your prescription. I’ve added a note to your account just in case this is a problem at any point in the future.”
(The next time I came in, another new tech questioned me on which prescription I took of two again. I told her both. She told me to hold on, as there was a note on my account. She started laughing. The note read, “Don’t argue with her; the prescription is correct. Yes, it’s really both. If you’ve got a problem with it, come see me to sign off on it.”)
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