"Hi, this is Dr Dumbass phoning in a prescription.................................................let's see.......................do you need the person's name?"
And ends like this:
"refill it......4 or 5 times."
I chose four out of spite. Because I was pissed that goddamn doctor foiled my plot to give the prescription to the next random person to come to the counter.
I then see we are out of 10 dram vials. Probably about 80% of all prescriptions are dispensed in 10 dram vials, but our warehouse decided we didn't need any this week. Fine. We started filling all our prescriptions using 20 dram vials. I'll bet the pills felt a lot like David Byrne of the talking heads around about 1984:
Around noon, someone opened up an emergency exit door looking for the store's bathroom. The alarm pierced everyone's ears for half an hour. No one in the store had the key to shut it off, making it necessary to call the store manager to come in from his home. The key on the manager's person is good for nothing but shutting off the alarm. The store manager took it with him when he left.
Ironically funny customer quote of the day, yelled to me at full volume; "I'M NOT SEEING THE EYE CARE SECTION!!"
Then the printer quits working. I don't mean paper jam down-on-your-knees digging out a wayward label with a pair of tweezers not working. I mean the printer died and went to printer heaven not working. There was smoke. There was only one printer. No printer means no labels means no prescriptions filled means no money flowing upwards to corporate headquarters. Tech support says they will send someone out in the morning as this "isn't a level one event" and therefore no overtime for the computer technician can be authorized.
I wonder if me including a free bottle of OxyContin with every vitamin purchase would be considered a level one event.
I'm not terribly nice most of the time to the customers to whom I am obligated to be, so you know how the conversation with the tech support help desk numbnut went. It's fun to cuss at work. In under an hour, the printer was replaced and the flow of dollars to headquarters resumed. I am God's fucking gift to my employer.
Gimmie some damn scotch.
