It Ain't Pretty in the Nose of a Pig

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Why is it that my pharmacy can't get shit right?

I mean it. I'm getting really tired of these retards. I think I can get a gaggle of these miscreants here in my building to go over there behind the pharmacy counter and they'd do a much better job than the screwballs that they have back there. It's just amazing how fucked up their service is, even after Doctor A told me to go to another pharmacy not far off. He said that I would have a much better chance of getting my meds on a timely basis. Well, stupid me didn't do it, and every time I have an interaction with these yo yos I regret it.



I have to say that I do get my meds for free from the Duane Reade, and I do take an assload of medi- cations. If I had to pay for them myself I would be dead in the month. Really. They are expensive and I can't afford them. I can't afford good health. I can't afford to live. It's best to keep your health and stay really fucking young, because as you grow older, you will become dependent on little ball bearings to keep you running. Shit, I take so many pills in a given day that my shit should roll smoothly out of my asshole as if on a funky conveyor belt.



But that's another story. Smooth running shit is the goal of all mankind. What I'm talking about now are the numbskulls that are in my pharmacy department. It never fails with them. No matter how many bottles of pills that I take to either be refilled, or new prescriptions to be filled, they have problems with them. I mean, I used to go over there with...I tell you no lie, eight or ten prescriptions to either be filled or refilled and they would give me back only 80% of what I gave them.



Okay, I said, maybe I gave them too many. I mean ten pill bottles is enough to throw anyone off. So I go back with five. They give me three back. They are having a problem with the other two. What? I just gave you five pills this time and you come back with even less? What the fuck is this about? Okay. Now I'm thinking, probably these people are not on the money to begin with, and five bottles of pills for a refill might be too much still for them to handle expediently. So the next time I come back with TWO prescription bottles. Can you believe it, I go to pick them up and they have ONLY ONE!!! What the fuck? You can't even handle TWO fucking refills now?



And it's always something that they have no fucking knowledge of. That's what gets me. I'll drop off four bottles. They'll give me back two and go to the cash register to ring it up immediately. Hey, I say to them, didn't I give you four refills? "You did?" The counter woman, an older lady blinks at me, then goes in the back and scans the alphabetical hangers that have the bottles in plastic bags with your name on them. She can't find the other two. "No, there's nothing there."



Then she stares at me. I stare back at her. She continues to stare at me. I continue to stare at her until I can take it no more. Well? Where are they? Am I supposed to read someone's mind back there or are you going to tell me what happened to my other two prescriptions. "OH! The woman says and goes back to the pharmacist behind the wall, who is no doubt smoking dope, or masturbating or something. She comes back out a minute later, "They're on order," she informs me with a smile. So, when can I pick them up, lady? She blinks at me again. This is an entirely new concept to her. "Hold on," she raises a finger and disappears into the back again, only to come out later. "Tomorrow." It's like pulling fucking teeth.



It's always something. Something that I have to read minds to get the answers to. The prescrip- tion is too old, the prescrip- tion is on order, the prescription will have to be filled later today, the prescription is up the pharmacist's asshole, the prescription is being used as a sex toy. Always something. And they never tell you when they bring out your shit. You have to remember just what you gave them and how much. I remember one time the woman behind the counter asks me, after I gave her eight empty bottles to fill and she gave me back six, asking me, "Do you know which ones are missing?" Shit, don't you? You fucks are supposed to be filling them. You don't know the ones you can't by name? I have to take them all home and play process of elimination to figure out which ones I don't have.



Stupid bitches, drive me up the fucking spout. So today, when I go out to pick up my large prescrip- tion order, there are two more missing. BENAZAPRIL and ALLOPURINOL. Where are they? I ask the woman behind the counter. "They're on order."

Fuck it. I'll just come back tomorrow.

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