Those of you who follow me on Face Book know that Peaches has mono, and that I've been pretty sick myself with a rotten one-two punch of a death cold and a massive sore throat.
Well, Friday being a day out of the office for me, I planned to do quite a bit of writing. But, since Peaches needed a prescription for a narcotic, plans changed. Instead of calling the script in to the pharmacy, because it was for a narcotic, I had to first stop at the doctor's office and pick up the script from the doctor, after showing the nurse my ID. I've been taking the kids to the same doctor for more than 20 years. He's seen me at my best and worst...and my worst was pretty much yesterday. I'd been up most of the night, nursing Peaches and my cough, which is determined to stay with me forever. I was exhausted and I looked it. No matter, I drove to the doctor's office, chatted with the nurse while waiting for the doc to give me the script. Then, off to the pharmacy.
If you read this blog you know that I go to the Sam's club pharmacy. I don't particularly like it, but it's on my way to work and they are usually pretty quick about filling scripts. What's not quick, however, is the line to get the scripts.
Yesterday was no different. I got there and handed the woman the script. She said it would be twenty minutes. I spent the time picking out seven grocery items. Then I took the cart back to the pharmacy. At the register was an old couple who, of course, were getting multiple scripts filled and apparently needed detailed instructions on how to take every single one of them. Normally my reaction would be one of rage, but I was there during old people hours, so it was my own fault I had to wait. I calmed myself.
There was a gent with a cart, much like mine with a few items in it, and he seemed to be waiting. I asked him if he was in line. He said yes. Good. Now the line formed behind me.
At least, that's what I thought.
While waiting for old couple to complete their drug instruction, I noticed a guy wandering around. He was really, really creepy looking, like some kind of TV rapist. I could almost see his white panel van with no windows parked in the lot. He had no cart, he was just sort of wandering around those of us in line. Yes, he very clearly saw me lined up behind the other guy with a cart.
Old people were finally finishing up and Cart Guy was called up. As he was getting his scripts and laying his 4 items out on the counter, I noticed that Creepy Guy had parked himself in front of me and directly in front of the pharmacy window.
Now, at this point I'd been waiting in line for at least fifteen minutes. I'd been in the store for almost an hour and at home I had a child in tremendous pain. I was not about to let Creepy Panel Van Rapist Guy butt in front of me. No way.
|Face it Creepy Guy, I'm older than you and I've|
got way better reasons to pick up this
Now, that should have been the end of it, right? I was in line before him, I got to the counter before him. That is the end of the story, right?
If it were, I wouldn't be blogging.
Oh no, counter chick acted like Creepy Guy was ahead of me and I was the one butting. She looked over my shoulder and said "good Morning" to him! I looked at her, four feet from me, and I said, "GOOD MORNING!" She then looked at me, and said, "What do you want?"
I'm not even kidding. Suddenly, I was the one in the wrong. Because I didn't let Creepy Guy butt a head of me. Oh no, now I'm getting attitude from the Sam's Club Pharmacy cashier? Oh honey, this is not a battle you're going to win.
"I am picking up prescriptions for Peaches and for Skippy." (Oh yeah, Skippy also had two scripts I needed to get.)
She heaves a heavy sigh and turns around to the rack and picks up a bag. "I have one bag here, but it has three bottles in it. One for Peaches and two for Skippy."
"That sounds right."
"Do you have anything else you need to pick up?" This said with all the weary impatience of a First Grade Teacher reprimanding a naughty child.
"No, that's about it."
"Are you sure?" And add a side of major sarcasm.
"Yes. I had three prescriptions, you're holding three bottles of pills. I think we're good here."
She looked at my cart. Remember, the guy in front of me had four items and she checked him through with no problem. I had seven items, and I know they've checked me out with several more than that. "I suppose you want to pay for those, too."
No, you bitchy hag, I'd like to walk out of here with free stuff.
"I suppose you could pay for them here. But you could pay for them up front, too."
At this point, she's keeping her eyes away from me and firmly on Creepy Guy. Okay, fine. Clearly I'm going to be the bad guy in this scenario. And the romance writer in me imagines all kinds of scenes involving her and Creepy Guy in the frozen foods section. "No, I suppose if it's easier for you I can go check out up front." I try to muster my very best bitchy voice. You know, to match hers.
"Yes, that would be best. Just take this up to the front and they will scan it."
Yes, woman, I'm very aware of how the process works.
I take the meds and make my way to the front where I'm forced to wait in line behind, you guessed it, masses of old people who apparently have never been to Sam's Club and all of them have 90 items in their cart, and none of them have valid club cards. As I'm stuck in line waiting hell, I watch Creepy Guy stalk his way out of the building.
Next time, I'm sending Hubby to the pharmacy.