Friday, September 14, 2007

Dear CVS pharmacy technician,

I swear to you that should you handle a future encounter with the same rude incompetency you displayed today I will leap into your pedestaled refuge in an unstoppable fury, and possibly harm you. At least my imagined fury will be more explicit.

CVS outlines its role for PT's thusly:
The role of the Technician is focused on customer service and prescription order processing, as well as problem resolution and inventory management. The role of the Technician is important because he/she helps to ensure that the right customer receives the right prescription, every time.


I know what seemed to be a lively conversation was interrupted by my penetrating stare, but it was really unnecessary to launch into ill-informed chatter about my refill and its dangers of abuse, over and over again, more shrilly each time, to anyone in a thirty foot radius. The woman behind me was certainly piqued. I briefly considered asking for thirty boxes of cough syrup to help her ease into a lively internal dialogue. Alas, I was too busy explaining to you-- a woman whom I sort of viewed in the kindly light of sisterhood as a result of your 'Hello! I am mentally ill!' behavior-- that of course I knew of its nefarious reputation, but that I was accustomed to taking such risks under the advice of many esteemed mental health professionals. Your next explosion of parrot noises included questions about how many I took each day, whether it was a ten-day prescription, and that if it was a ten-day they could only fill it as such. I placidly reasoned that it had been well over a month since said prescription was last filled, and therefore should not even remotely raise the flags of concern and vigilance you so frantically waved.

Service! Problem-solving! Nice one, CVS!

You never did settle back into a feeling of ease about it, did you? No, and then you said the second prescription did not exist. You would have to call the doctor, but were unable until tomorrow. I should wait five minutes for my first prescription, and you would call me to the counter. Twenty-five solid minutes into JANE magazine, and pretty much bored to tears quite literally, I sauntered my drug-addicted ass to the pick-up counter. There waited two filled prescriptions! I asked after the validity of the new script, and made clear to another PT what you said to me regarding its possible non-existence. Your co-worker seemed befuddled (and perhaps a bit
too sad, as we MDD's like to say). Much explosive parroting ensued.

As the cacophony softened to chirps of advice or contentment I was told that the call was made, the new prescription not remotely exotic, and the meds were uneventfully refilled. She said she had no idea why you did not call me back to explain, but I do, nutjob.

I do.

The D.L.


dr von drinkensnorten said...

Is that Christian Bale or Bale of hay?

in amicus perpetuitam,

The D.L. said...

ha ha!

bale of glower

in aeternum,
rebeccvs dare i say maximus

dr von drinkensnorten said...

Tv es semper fabvloso