Adam Thomas's Blog, page 34

comic relief

If attacked by clowns,
go for the juggler.

 

See now if I was skilled at tweeting or texting or anything of that media frenzy, this would be even funnier.  But I’m not.

However, it is now permanently posted here.  Tweets and texts are never that preserved.

 

Courtesy of  Roy’s marquee – though the ‘actual’ punch line read – go fer da’ juggler.  This is Northern Michigan, folks.  That Upper shit is everywhere. 

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Why customers really do suck

I’m tossed about this whole electronic prescription entering thing that has evolved in the pharmacy.  I’m old school.  It used to be you go to the doctor, he/she gives you an actual prescription BLANK and then that blank IS  TAKEN to the pharmacy to get filled; simple, structured and somewhat  functional.  That is until the customer opens their mouth and tries to talk.  Then it just becomes a fucking cluster.  But this isn’t that right now.

Now, you go to the doctor and before you even leave the office, the doctor e-mails the prescription to the pharmacy.  And, since it’s a perfect world, the prescription is always ready the moment the customer arrives at the pharmacy.

NOT!

In the real world, we have so may prescriptions e-mailed, we don’t even know if we’ve received the prescription for the patient in question.  This poses a problem.  Especially to the  impatient customer who was told that the prescription would surely be ready by the office. Why wouldn’t it?

That being said, on with the first example of why customers really do suck.

A woman arrived at the drive inquiring about her prescription that “should be ready because she just left the office”.  She was informed that we had only just finished typing the prescription and it will be another fifteen minutes.  She drove off in a huff, of course because, you know, fifteen minutes is a year in dog time.  Not even five minutes later, the same woman was in the drive. AGAIN.  When the technician informed her that her prescription was still not ready and it hadn’t even been five minutes, the customer clapped her hands quickly a few times, instructing the technician to hop to it and work faster.

Second example of why customers really do suck.

A nice lady -  a year-round regular actually – was in the drive.  Yes, there was problem with her prescription.  Why wouldn’t there be? So the transaction took just a bit longer than expected.  Unfortunately the woman behind her didn’t like this, so she proceeded to get out of her car, walked up to the woman being waited on and asked her to leave.  The recipient of this rude, impatient act promptly said, “it’s my turn and I’m not leaving.”

You go, girl!

The lady reluctantly retreated, got in her car and decided to come in to the store.

Wow, that was way fun.

Finally, a message came down the grapevine that a man at a nearby store complained - I stand corrected – he was appalled that his prescription would not be delivered to his BOAT.  Yes, you read that correctly.  HIS BOAT.  He stated it was a complete inconvenience for him to come to the store and demanded his request be granted.

Luckily he didn’t get me on the phone.  Then I would’ve known the location of his BOAT.   That would’ve been bad for him.  But, hey that’s what insurance is for, right?

So, that is why customers really do suck!

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“It’s amazing. I cannot get left.”

It wasn’t Big Ben, Parliament, or even  Europe.  It was Kentucky and the biggest horse show/extravaganza ever –  BreyerFest 2014.  My youngest daughter collects the horses and wanted to attend the annual shin-dig.  So, we did.  And, once again, I was reminded how wonderful it is to be stuck in the car for a 10 hour car ride with your entire family.

That being said, on with my random vacation diary, so to speak.

As I’ve mentioned before, I don’t have a cell phone.  We do have Trac Phones for the necessities.  Therefore, we don’t have a wireless network.  So, that 10 hour car ride was pretty boring.  Luckily we did have a DVD player.  Books and actually listening to every song on a CD were quite refreshing.  Boppin’ around town, I often play my favorite tracks and forget the rest of the songs on the album.  Being stuck in the car for that length of time makes you appreciate why certain songs are not popular.

The license plate game is limited on immediate entertainment value, but progressive.  We found lots of states at the ole’ Kentucky Horse Park in Lexington.   Rhode Island, West Virginia, and Idaho are usually the tough ones.  Don’t even get me started on Hawaii.  Though we did see one of those.

I am and always will be confused at THIS EXIT and NEXT EXIT.  I’m often in a panic on whether THIS EXIT is the NEXT EXIT or NEXT EXIT is THIS EXIT.  When I road tripped in college, my friends attempted to explain this, but often I found examples to prove them wrong.   So, NEXT TOPIC.

Or would it be THIS TOPIC?

Sorry.  Couldn’t pass that one up.

Finally, I’ve decided that vacations seem to potentiate individualistic nuances that make each one of us special in our own way.  In other words, the littlest things that would normally never bother me at home, drive me up the fucking wall when I’m on vacation.  Maybe it’s conditioning, expectations, patience, or lack of, or a combination.  For me, I think it’s this inane assumption that my family will magically change into this, I don’t know, Pizarro family that will actually enjoy being together.  It’s vacation for Pete’s sake.

Still, we did have fun.  Well, I did.   So did my daughter who initiated the whole trip.  That’s really all that counts.  And, though the rest of them bitched up a storm that we had to drive 10 hours to go to a stupid Horse show, they all had fun.  Splashing in the pool by the fire pit on a beautiful summer evening was … priceless.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=iAgX6qlJEMc

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I Dreamed a Dream

It has nothing to do with the show  Les Miserables .  But it has everything to do with  days gone by AND this hell I’m living – retail pharmacy, of course.

I’ve worked retail pharmacy for twenty-five years now.   For at least twenty of those wonderful years , I have had a recurring dream.  Yes, there are times when I can go weeks, even months without knowing I’ve had the dream.  Then I have it a couple days in a row and … it’s gone again.  I’m sure some psychotherapist would have a field day with that and me for that matter.  But with those I’ve shared this with, the pattern seems similar to what each has experienced.

So, I’m in pharmacy school, plugging along, and wham I fail a class or something equally school/career altering happens that makes me re-evaluate my future/options.  Pharmacy school, like any professional degree, has classes that are sequential.  You have to pass Pharmaceutics I to go on the Pharmaceutics II.  Since the classes are only offered in specific semesters, the entire schooling tract revolves around the forward movement – passing each class.  You fail – your fucked.  In this dream, however, I never get passed the decision – I’m always faced with the decision or ,better yet, panicked by what little options exist. Often I wake up realizing I’ve had the dream, yet knowing  no resolution occurred.

Believe it or not, I did not start writing as an escape from pharmacy.  It just happened.  As I continued, I embraced the process and the release from reality that writing brought.  I could be anything I wanted to write about; very fulfilling.  To this day, I still can’t write a letter or even a long e-mail and keep a train of thought without getting impatient.  Besides,  I ramble A LOT- imagine that, eh? But I can sustain entire novels quite well.

I’ve read numerous positive thinking books - please refrain from negative commentary here.  The moments before falling asleep are supposedly crucial to that damn subconscious mind and ultimately what we dream.   You would think that as much as I think about writing and trying to change the outcome of that dream IT WOULDV’E HAPPENED ALREADY.  I think more about writing and my success as a writer than sex.  Really.  Unfortunately, that stupid dream remains the same.

Until now!

It finally happened.  The details are sketchy, though.   And as more days go by, what details there were fade at an exponential rate.  However, the fact is my dream changed.  All I remember is that I had the dream again.  However, this time I was actually at a different school.  I still wasn’t sure what I was doing, I didn’t seemed faced with that ‘career traumatic decision’ and/or failure AND some cute, twenty-something co-ed told me, this used-to-be cute, forty-nine year old dude, that I had a nice ass.

What could be better than that?

Yes, it’s been a few days and the dream has not reoccurred.  Who cares!? Something is changing in that cavernous hollow of a subconscious of mine and I’m ready.

Bring it!

P.S. I really do have a nice ass!

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HOW TO GET A FLAT STOMACH

Eat a snack that contains protein between 3pm and 4pm every day
Do the ball exchange exercise three times per week
Eat as close to ZERO grams of sugar as possible
Chew food as long as possible
Do crunches only as a LAST resort
Stay away from salt
Add Boxing to the daily cardio routine
Draw attention to other body parts
PORTION CONTROL!
Breakfast – whole wheat bread with peanut butter and a side of berries
Laughing – (there was also an adorable smiley face I can’t reproduce for this post)
Full body exercises at least three days per week

from the desk of my fourteen year old daughter

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“Hello, Grammy … .”

            4:04 p.m.

            The first syringe sale of the day.  The customer insisted it was for his grandmother’s cat.  At least he didn’t say it was for his grandmother or that he even had a cat for that matter.  Then I would’ve known for sure he was lying.

            6:39 p.m.

            “Shaw Pharmacy. May I help you?”

            “Hello, my name is Mrs. Gorecki.  I’m the third car back in Lane One.  I was wondering if you could please work faster.  I need to be at an appointment in a few minutes.” She paused. “Hold on a minute, I have someone beeping in.”

            Instinctively, I hung up the phone.  Mrs. Gorecki may need to contact her mobile carrier about the dropped calls  she’s experiencing. 

            Another needle transaction.  No pretense with this one, though.  Under the intended use section of the needle/syringe log the guy wrote ‘personal use’. 

from  My Life As A Retail Pharmacist – A Fictionalized Memoir of course

Both reminded me of an incident that happened recently.  Something, I may add, that has never happened to me in my twenty-five years of retail life.

During needle transactions, we at the pharmacy are constantly reminded that Michigan IS a clean needle state.  No shit idiot.  Though if we at the pharmacy constantly reminded those purchasing said clean needles that the needles should be used for their INTENDED purpose, we would most likely be reprimanded.

That said, on with the story.

A dude – late twenties – walked up to the counter requesting a ‘ten pack of 1cc long tips’.  Of course he did.  What else would he want? A laxative? So, we only had the 0.3cc or 30 unit short tip type available.  Upon inspection and the occasional, “hmm, I’m not sure this is what Grammy”, yes, he called her Grammy, “ actually uses” .

I asked, “How many units of insulin does Grammy inject.”

Dude, shrugs his shoulders, takes out is phone, and says, “let me call her and find out.”

As entertaining as this was, I was busy and really didn’t care for this ‘display’.  Spare me the theatrics, buy the damn needles and GO AWAY.

He didn’t.

Though the phone call to Grammy was … priceless.  And blog worthy.  He even ended the conversation with “yes, I know dinner is on the stove and I love you, too.” Isn’t that the most special thing you’ve ever heard? What a nice grandson!

Really, how fucking stupid do I look?

I’m sure my rant to continue on for quite some time, but I will refrain.  I’m working on decreasing my external stressers.  Whatever the fuck that’s supposed to mean.  But I will close with two words that might decrease future sales.

Price adjustment.

Cha-Ching!

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It was my cover first, damnit!

                                           

It was my idea.  However there’s nothing I can do except rant here and to anyone else that will listen, of course.  Yes, the primary focus on ‘the other one’ is the red (blood) writing.  The main character IS a doctor.  Still, IT’S MY COVER!

What’s even more discouraging is that once upon critique I was told that my cover was wrong and I needed change the title of the book.  Well, ain’t that just a how-do-ya-do slap in the face.  You can tell I didn’t listen.  It took too much blood, sweat, and tears to get to where I was – already over six months on Amazon and blogging steadily for the same amount of time.  Besides, I really liked my cover and the title.  The woman who vocalized that opinion was the cousin of a friend of a friend that blah, blah, blah somewhere and just glanced at my website for a moment.  Bitch.

I had it first,  Mr. Herman Koch writer dude.  Though Mr. Writer Dude probably had noting to do with the cover.  It was that stupid publishing house that rejected me long ago AND stole my cover that had everything to do with it.  Stupid publishing house place.  Hell, I’m just angry.  You see, this is the aspect of my life that isn’t supposed to make me angry.  Remember I work retail pharmacy – I’m angry everyday. This, this writing stuff is supposed to bring me joy and help me escape from the anger.  (Insert big sigh)

Oh, well, I need to be done for now and get on with My Life As A Retail Pharmacist.  See even angry and depressed I can be funny.

Thank you for letting me rant.  And to those I complain to in person – an even bigger thank you.

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school’s out for summer

I’m talkin’ Alice Cooper, not air conditioning.  Though I’m certain that’s going to be running all too soon.  My wife will complain about the electric bill, of course.   No comment.  As far as I’m concerned, I am more than ready for this school year to be over.   Very rarely would a parent say that, knowing what is in store in the summer month ahead.   Still, I’m ready.  I’m done with six in the morning awakenings, making peanut butter and jelly sandwiches, and the fight about who’s going to sit in the front seat for the short – less than two miles short – commute to school.  You realize that I realize that I will still be making peanut butter and jelly sandwiches and my kids will still fight about the seating arrangements.  But it won’t be at six o’clock in the fucking morning.  You also realize that in no time at all I’ll  be ranting about my daughter complaining that she is bored all the time and my son wanting to drive far, far away from everyone.  One quick comment about this being bored thing.  My middle child is the only one of my children that ever complained and continues to complain about it. In a conversation with a friend, who’s family pretty much mirrors mine in age,  some years ago I mentioned this fact.  Both he and his wife are doctors. 

“Bored,” he exclaimed exasperatedly.  “I wish my kids could experience boredom.  They all attend day care programs that are scheduled almost to the minute.”

The more I thought about it, I realized being bored wasn’t so bad after all.  I just wish my daughter would come upon the same realization.

With the end of the school,  yearbooks are distributed.  I was never really a yearbook person.  I don’t think I even still have mine from high school.  Please don’t judge that fact.  I was never a fan of high school, so saving memories to commemorate it’s existence for me seemed … hypocritical?

Anyway, my wife loved high school. I only hope my kids fall somewhere in the middle.  Considering what things are like today, that is a realistic goal or simply a fact of life.

So flipping through these yearbooks, I realized the format really hasn’t changed too much over the years.  The verbiage … now that’s a different story.  Take the ‘class awards’ section

Most Likely to Succeed is now Most Likely to get their own Reality Show. Which is an unfortunate negative twist on a once positive accolade.

Best Hair is now Sickest Flow.  Unfortunately this is the award my son is lobbying for next year – his Senior  year. At least he’s not shootin’ for the above, eh? Besides, he really does have great hair.

Most Talented is now referred to as American Idols.  I don’t think they realize this is Traverse City, Michigan,

Best Dressed - what else but Fashion Forward.

Finally, Best Artist is now fondly labeled – Next DaVinci.  That one is kinda’ fun.

Well, that’s my take on the end of the school year offerings.  Remember, my rant on when is school going to start again will most likely follow shortly.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=OUugQoxS8_o

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I ain’t got nothin’

That’s about it this week.  Though I did work with a technician that actually talked to customers that way.  Let’s just say grammar was not her strongest quality.   She’s long gone, but resurrecting the post title gets us through the day sometimes.   But right now, I’m talkin’ ideas to blog about.  I’ve had a good run lately, keeping the ‘randomness’ alive.  When I brainstorm, I often think of newspaper columnists that have to write quality material on a daily basis.  I average about a post a week and that’s hard work.  I can’t imagine what those writers encounter.   Still, I’m going to complain anyway.

You see I wanted this to be special.  This is technically my 102nd post.  Television shows usually commemorate reaching the 100th aired show as a milestone; special guests, plot twists to keep the audience engaged for another 100 episodes, sit-com antics.  Cheers had a recap/interview show, Friends had Phoebe having twins.  You get the idea.  My ‘blog birthday’ is approaching, so I recap then.  As for twins - I’m too old for that shit again.

Me, I just wanted a nice, simple five-star review to post, celebrating my existence and my 100th post milestone.  I have come a long way.  I can actually copy/paste the stars now.

I ain’t got nothin’.

So, I waited another post – I already had a draft for 100.  I’m an odd number person, so celebrating 101 would’ve been fitting.

Once again, I had nothin’.

Over this twenty plus years of writing and waiting and waiting and rewriting I’ve learned to be patient.  The ironic thing is that often upon first impression, I come across as a very impatient person.  Oh, well, who cares.

Hey, I just realized in all tis ‘ I ain’t got nothin’ I actually created a post that is random and utter nonsense.

 

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ON

I’m referring to the light switch that is Traverse City, MI in the summer, of course.  The retailers are thankful.  It was a very long winter.  Shit some of the trees don’t even have leaves yet; buds yes, leaves no.  Unfortunately the locals had no time to enjoy their town before the summer invasion started either.  We totally skipped May and went right to mid-June.  I’m not complaining, though.  I’ve had good timing with my yard work.

That being said, I am NOT looking forward to anything that resembles the following conversation:

“Hi, I’m here from out of town and … ,”

“Just shut the fuck up,” the angry Pharmacist longs to say.  Well, I pretty much want to say that to everyone. Let’s continue with the scenario, though.  Instead the Pharmacy staff has to listen to not only where the stupid person is from, but where in the house he or she left their medication and why? *

Really, WE DON’T CARE!!

And then there’s those snowbirds.  I only have two words for them – GO BACK!

Speaking about the elderly, it reminds me of something from my book.  Bare with me if this is a repeat, but it’s so funny.  I write fiction and I can’t make this sit up.

 

“Oh, that reminds me.” Ron reached in his pocket.  “I know we try not to talk shop, but you gotta read this.  Found it in my mailbox with the word ‘classic’ written across the top.”

 Ron slid a small piece of paper toward me.

“I’m not sure what the scenario was, but it’s just fuckin’ hilarious.”

                        86. Dealing with a senior who proceeded to step over another senior

                        having a fatal heart attack and asked how long the wait was going to

                        be.  When he was told a man was dying on the floor, he stated that he

                        was in a hurry and couldn’t wait long. – Lauren

 

 I read the excerpt twice.  I was appalled that such an incident occurred, but never once doubted its validity.  It was absurdly pathetic.

“Bastard probably took his prescription and went elsewhere.”

 

from  My Life As A Retail Pharmacist – A Fictionalized Memoir

*By the way, they’re usually from down state, it’s usually the kitchen table and it’s usually because they really are that stupid.

 

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