Under no circumstances should you EVER go to work on your day off.

I was on my way home from class, absolutely dying from itchy, watery eyes... really, I was itchy all over. Ahh, spring is here! My allergies are back. I realized I had forgotten to pick up my Allegra and Patanol, so I swung by the pharmacy to get them before going home and contemplating hitting the books.

Of course, Monday afternoon, our pharmacy is absolutely swamped. I'm talking a line 10 deep at the pick-up counter, 5 or 6 people waiting to drop off, and I didn't even want to look at the drive-thru. The phones were ringing off the hook. All of this with only 3 techs and a pharmacist. I decided not to stay and chat, paid for my drugs, and was about to go.

"IISgirl?" I heard my pharmacist say.

SHIT!

I turned around. "Yes?"

"Ummm... would you mind staying for just an hour or so to help us get caught up?"

Oh no. Don't do this to me.

I absolutely adore my RPh, I can't leave her like this, plus I'm dirt poor and begging for extra hours so I can finally pay off the last thousand or so I owe for this semester's tuition, before I have to think about paying tuition for next semester. If I work an hour, I can make like... $10 at best after taxes! Woo-hoooo!

With a sigh, I headed over to drop off. A pile of scripts about the same thickness as a copy of DiPiro was sitting there, waiting to be typed, when a 90 year old mummy walks up, and dumps out a Medco bottle full of almost a dozen different medications, all mixed together. She's practically deaf, by the way, so I'm screaming to her at the top of my lungs. So much for HIPAA.

I swear to god, what she dumped out on my counter looked like this:



"I accidentally mixed my pills together, can you help me?" She had never had a script filled at our pharmacy before, probably never will, and here I am, expected to sort out yet another mail order mess.

She has no idea what she's on or how she takes it. I spent the majority of the next hour looking the pills up online, sorting them all out for her, and telling her what they're for. Do the friendly pharmacists in the mail order company waste time sorting pills out for you, I ask?! No! I'm the idiot who makes my patients wait an extra 15 or 20 minutes on top of the 30+ minutes they would have waited to begin with, while I help obnoxious old ladies out of the goodness of my heart! But what do I care, it's not like my company gives bonuses anymore for meeting the company's goals, nor are we compensated for our time by any means other than our hourly wage. Why should I care what I spend my time doing at work?

Anyway, the ungrateful old bat never even said thank you. I glared at my pharmacist when the hour was up and I had somehow miraculously typed all of the prescriptions, who shrugged apologetically, logged my hours in, and I left.

Next time, I'll just claw my eyes out instead of setting foot into work on my day off to pick up my Patanol.

--IISgirl ... I'm only blogging to avoid studying!