The Rx Factor

The Confusing World Of Numbers

noreply@blogger.com (Natalie) — Sun, 26 Jul 2009 19:37:00 +0000

this is....an actual phone conversation....undoctored because, well there's just no reason to.

caller: "hi, i'm calling because i'm running out of medicine and i need a refill"

me: "okay great, well do you have the prescription numbers?"

caller: "sure, 403561 and 403562".................at this point i notice something wrong as our prescription numbers are 7 digits to begin with

me: "well, those aren't our prescription numbers, what's your name then?" she gives me her name and i'm searching in our system only to turn up empty-handed

me: "okay ma'am, those aren't our numbers and i can't find your name in our system, are you sure you're calling the right pharmacy?"

caller: "well, i'm not sure, they told me to call this number. this is springville pharmacy right?"

me: "no.............this is xxx pharmacy......"

caller: "well, what should i do? there's a phone number on the bottle, should i call that?"

uh, what?

So, How Much Will That Cost Me?

noreply@blogger.com (Phrustrated Pharmacist) — Thu, 09 Jul 2009 05:36:00 +0000

....I don't know. That's my honest and typical answer. I really don't know. I have an inkling, but one can never know for sure. I have a better idea than you do, but I don't know the finite answer. Why is that dumbfounding?

Here are some rhetorical questions that I ask in my head (while I'm attempting to process the claim so they go the fuck away) to allow me to cope:

Who let you out of your nursing home?
Where's your shower?
Does it really matter?
What is the monetary threshold that will make that horrible cough linger?
Do you have a better or cheaper way to get a hard-on?
What if I told you seven hundred dollars?
What if I told you three dollars?
Why would I be kidding you?
Do you think staring at me whilst typing will lower the amount owed?
Who do you think that toupee is fooling, honestly?
Why aren't you working?
When did you enjoy a "triple whopper" last?

I love the third tier. I really do. It's the most expensive and most confounding of all the tiers. It offers mesmerizing words such as "prior" and "authorization" in the same sentence often. It contains obsequious copays and dazzling drugs. Yes, the third tier is the shit. Maybe that's why doctors write prescriptions in the third tier. Then again, maybe the same asshole standing in front of me disagreed with the doctor's assessment. Then, the doctor, being human, wrote a prescription that s/he knew would be expensive. This concludes the third tier lesson.

The FDA is really starting to grind my gears.

noreply@blogger.com (Phrustrated Pharmacist) — Thu, 02 Jul 2009 22:24:00 +0000

Seriously. WTF with all the medguides? I can't give anything out now without some stupid question. It's bad enough that people think "metoprolol succinate" is pronounced mutupral succulent - oh yes they did. Now every douche with a fifth-grade education thinks their tendons are going to snap/burst or they're going to commit suicide. Look, you may grow a baboon ass for all I know, but if it's printed, then people are going to think this shit will affect them. As some dumb ass lady told me today: "I know my system." What the fuck ever.

FDA - stop it already, we get it. You are omnipotent and scary. You can make or break companies in a single pen stroke. Here's a thought: how about NOT APPROVING this shit in the first place? Oh, now that you have the money it's o.k. to fuck with people. Look, nobody's saying you're not the man, just ease the fuck up. Jesus.

There, I'm better (sort of).

Old Nurses: You're on Notice

noreply@blogger.com (Phrustrated Pharmacist) — Wed, 27 May 2009 02:44:00 +0000

Why is it that every bitchy, lazy, and condescending nurse is named Barb, Kathy, Pat(ty), Sue or Debbie? Well, if one goes to the Social Security website and fiddles with the decades ( http://www.ssa.gov/OACT/babynames/decades/names1950s.html ), you'll find your answer. Yes sirs, the old, crotchety nurses were born in the '50s. "Why is this important?," you may ask yourself. Phrustrated is such a douche. Yes, this may be, but I'm not nearly as douchetastic as the old guard. I genuinely despise this gaggle of former (or current) chain smokers with their smoker voices. They collectively sound like that creepy aunt who's always trying to kiss you.

Anyway, back to topic. This is important because I had a run-in today (and a few weeks ago). Yes, Barb the "nurse," I'm talking to you - so listen the fuck up. I'm only gonna say this once, so listen the fuck up, and listen the fuck up - but good. Here it goes: I HAVE MY OWN FUCKING JOB TO DO WARDING OFF THE DREGS WITHOUT DOING YOUR JOB TOO (YOU FUCKING WHORE). Okay, I don't know she's a whore. That's just the phrustration. She is, however, a grade A lazy douchebag. Here's a synopsis of the convo:

Me (after saying: who's on hold now? Oh, a doctor's office - again?....How long....Ohhh this oughta be good): Hi, sorry for the wait, how can I help y..

Barb (interrupting rudely): HOW LONG WERE YOU GONNA LEAVE ME HOLDING?

Me: Uhhh, I'm not sure what answer you're looking for..it's the day after the holiday, so I'm on quite a few calls today...sorry - I'm only one person.

Barb: Oh, fine...whatever. Look, what's covered?!?

Me: Uhhhhh, that's a bit vague, what are you pertaining to?

Barb: EYEDROPS!! (cough, clear throat of phlegm)

Me: Any particular ones, or just in general or any insurance, or wha...

Barb (interrupting): XALATAN, ON MEDICAID! UGH!

Me: How was I supposed to know what you meant simply by your tone?

Sidebar - all of Barb's lines will be capitalized. She was yelling and/or sighing the whole conversation - I was calm as a Hindu cow (as per usual)

Barb: THAT'S NOT IMPORTANT - I NEED YOU TO FIGURE OUT WHAT'S COVERED!

Me: Well, I don't have time right now. I cou..

Barb (Yes, interrupting - sensing a theme...) WHADDYA MEAN?!?...THIS IS WHAT I ALWAYS DO. I CALL AND YOUS FIGURE IT OUT...I DON'T HAVE THE TIME!

Me: What makes you think I have the time and money to waste time do your work? Isn't that a bit presumptuous?

Barb: NO! THAT'S WHAT I ALWAYS DO...WHAT'S YOUR PROBLEM?

Me: Well, it's the day after Memorial Day, and everyone and their brother has decided to NOW bring me their scripts and wait to have them filled. Since they are paying customers, they have first dibs. I would gladly give you the phone number to Medicaid's prior auth line and...

Barb: I'M NOT DOING A PRIOR AUTH, UGAHHH, GOD

Me: Now, there's no need for that.

Barb: NO NEED FOR WHAT?!? I'M JUST TRYING TO FIGURE OUT WHAT TO GIVE..WE GIVE SAMPLES, THEN THEY GIVE YOU THE SCRIPT AND, AND I DON'T KNOW....

Me: Yes, that is the normal cascade of events. As I was saying, I'll give you the number and you may speak with someone at Medicaid to tell you definitely what is and is not covered in that class. Then you may fax/phone/write/e-scribe/smoke signal the rx to me. I'm sorry, but that's all I can provide you at this time.

Barb: UGGGHHHHH...click.

Me: Fuck you too you fat fuck mouth-breather (she had hung up, but it still felt good)

Now, as frustrating as this was, there's more to the story. I know this is a long post, but hang in there. As it turns out, this office sucks at giving out eyedrops. Funny, since they are eye doctors. Don't you need a degree or some shit? Anyways, Barb and her legion of doom staff couldn't tell me if 'John Doe' was allergic to sulfa or if the doctor had a problem giving Azopt with that possible sulfa allergy. It took me three days and nine phone calls and countless hour(s) on hold to try to square this away. The patient is clueless and speaks phrases such as "I am eye drup" so no luck there. Finally I got to speak to Barb, who was dismissive and condescending - and never called me back. Well, I stored that in the "fuck you" sector of my memory. So, when I heard "this is Barb from Dr. Eyedrop's office" I went to the fuck you sector and pulled out a big ol' can of fuck you. I love it when a plan comes together.

So, what is all this rambling? Fuck you Barb, that's what. You're officially on notice and will get no favors from me - EVER. Funny thing is, I'm one of the most resourceful, helpful and respectful pharmacists you'll ever deal with. I have countless nurses that enjoy calling me and we will do favors for each other. You see, Barb, that's how it do. Like Patrick Swayze said in Roadhouse: "Be nice" That's all for now, I've got phones to answer.

Thanks FDA, You're the Best

noreply@blogger.com (Phrustrated Pharmacist) — Fri, 27 Feb 2009 06:02:00 +0000

No, really. I mean it; from the bottom of my ever-blackening heart. I love calling doctors to change people from ER metoprolol to IR metoprolol. I love telling pregnant women that their prenatals are going to look "a little different." Both of these acts are just asking for a bad time. Those of you who've dealt with this can empathize.

Let me ask you this FDA, have you ever had to deal with these things multiple times in multiple days for multiple months? It fucking blows, FDA. You don't call doctors. You don't talk to (pregnant errrr irrational errrrr hormonal) patients. Why you gotta be measurin' all the tablets, yo?

For those of you (and I mean both of you whom are loyal readers) who don't know, I'm referring to the FDA's utter demolishing of the drug company ETHEX. They seemed to be reputable enough, I don't know. All I know is they're gone and the FDA is the one who put them out of commission and we in the rank and file are left to clean up the wreckage.

What did they really do? Inconsistent tablet sizes are the reports I've most often seen. I'm not buyin' it. I'm not sure what higher-up told an FDA official to "fuck off," but it wasn't a good idea. Now the FDA knocks on your door with some calipers and a shit-eating grin. "Fuck off," you say, says the FDA, "well I don't fucking thing so," retorts the FDA. Now let me in so I can randomly measure all of your tablets.

This is an agency that has poetic license. I liken them to the scary old man with the brown slacks (yes, slacks) in the middle of August who steals your Frisbee because it happens to stray onto his lawn. He shakes his finger with pallor and says something like "now it's mine!" Well, friends this is the FDA. They are old, callous, and if you piss them off, they will take your Frisbee. Frisbee in this case being Metoprolol Succinate and Prenatal Vitamins.

I can't wait for the next round. I'm sure the FDA has something up it's (short) sleeve (with a yellowish pattern and a butterfly collar - remember the old man). Get fucked FDA, I've gotta go make some more senseless calls.

Actual Phone Call....

noreply@blogger.com (Phrustrated Pharmacist) — Fri, 02 Jan 2009 06:05:00 +0000

Me: Hello, may I help you?

Dumbass: Yeah, Uh, pharmacy....

M: Yes, you've reached the pharmacy.

DA: Uh, is this the farmist? (I like where this is going)

M: Yes, this is the farmist. (it's just easier)

DA: I've never been there before, is that going to be a issue?

Sidebar:

While I respect the fact that this waste of air was able to form a cohesive sentence/question, another piece of me has perished (again). Let's analyze the statement, shall we? "Is that going to be an issue?" It most definitely sounds to be "an issue" since you have no fucking clue how to communicate. I have no idea what my response should begin to sound like - seriously. After much silence and thinking, I came up with...

M: In what respect?

DA: I'VE NEVER BEEN THERE!

M: That much I ascertained from your previous statement, sir. We do indeed fill prescriptions for people whom have never frequented our location previously, however.

DA: Oh, aaaa, really?

M: Yes, really.

DA: Okay then....

I'll spare you the rest, but it turns out we don't take his insurance. Could have maybe just led with that question. Something like "I have BC/BS of East Bumfuck - do yous take it?" The answer is no. None of me dies this way.

I love the smell of forgery in the...evening...

noreply@blogger.com (Natalie) — Wed, 06 Aug 2008 04:45:00 +0000

ah, it's good to be back. okay, not really. but second day back after vacation and catching a user is just fantastic to me.

so, rx gets dropped off in the drive-thru, all torn up and whatnot, written today (it seriously looked like it had been in a washing machine) of course for...what else people...."hydrocodone 10/325." the first tip off was that there was already writing on it, date of birth and allergy, from another pharmacy. which, of course, means they took it somewhere first and they did not fill it. i can't imagine why. i ask if she had been to a store of ours before, the answer being no, and if she had insurance, and she said she was paying in cash. ah ha....second tip off.
so i go abouts my usual central search and find her name, but having nothing filled since 2005. i figured that can't be right, so i opened the search broader, and find a hyphenated last name for her, but no meds under that since 2007. so, for shits and giggles i look her up under the other last name and BANG, she's been going to a store near her house (a town over) regularly, and using a DIFFERENT last name that what is on the prescription. one, i'm assuming is her maiden name, and one her married name. and...hahaha, turns out she has an insurance. crafty ol' me. so, la la la, process said script under her insurance and...dun dun dun...reject! "similar medication quantity left on 1st rx" delightful. for me at least. so a quick call to the insurance reveals that she had received a months worth of tramadol yesterday, and was still finishing up some 7.5/500s from the middle of July. tee-hee, i'm on to her game. i find out where the script was processed before she took it to me, and i give the other pharmacist a call and turns out they found out the same thing from her insurance and refused to fill it.
then a smile creeps onto my face (not unlike the Grinch) as i start to write aaalllll over it, that she actually has insurance and she is getting medications under her maiden name AND her married name, some as cash some under her insurance. i get a warm fuzzy feeling inside when i do this. and, really, the icing on the cake is when i make a copy and write a little note and fax it to her doctor's office about the goings-on. ah, satisfaction.
i can't help but smile when i hand the script back, after explaining that we would have to call and verify the fill with the doctor. she, of course, wants the prescription back. and i get a little tingle when she frowns at the writing on it. sad for her.

what makes it worse is that she had two little kids with her. i mean, 2-year-old, and one maybe 8 months or so. i feel sad knowing they have to grow up with parents that lie and cheat the system to get narcotics which they either sell or use or both.

some days, i lose all faith in humanity.

Top Ten Reasons You Need Lortab (or other controlled substances) Early!

noreply@blogger.com (Phrustrated Pharmacist) — Tue, 29 Jul 2008 05:26:00 +0000

10. Sold it all
9. Was taking over the toilet and dropped the whole bottle in (Why.....?)
8. My purse was stolen
7. My doc told me to take more (this one's a 50/50, sorry MDs, you fuck up too...)
6. My dog/cat/llama/iguana was playing with the bottle.......
5. Was taking over the sink and dropped the whole bottle down the drain (What.....?)
4. They broke into my car (and only stole my controlled substance)
3. My doctor wrote me a new subscription, so I can get it (Not so much)
2. They broke into my house (No, your police report will not net you an early refill)
1. Going on vacation. If you take a controlled substance, your likelihood for vacation increases
by at least 10-fold.

There Are No Stupid Questions, Just Stupid People Who Ask Questions

noreply@blogger.com (Phrustrated Pharmacist) — Tue, 29 Jul 2008 04:58:00 +0000

Many times during my day I will be interrupted. Sometimes by the elderly, sometimes by the rude, sometimes by the ignorant and sometimes by the elderly, rude and ignorant. I love the last trifecta. ERIs (elderly, rude, ignorant) looovvvve to ask questions.

It will start out innocent and annoying enough. EXCUSE ME! I HAVE A RASH! WHAT WOULD BE GOOD FER IT?!?

Here we go. I ask the typical 'try to get down to the bottom of it' questions. When did it start, where is it (that one can go terribly awry), how long have you had it, is it itchy (thank you Drugmonkey), is it raised, is it dry, is it puffy, did you start using a new soap, have you been in the woods, so on and so forth...

No matter what, these old codgery fuckers always pick what THEY picked. Why fucking ask me and waste my rash curin' time if you're going to ignore my 'expertise' and give me a dirty look. Listen, I have no problem with you wasting your hard earned social security check (that I provide you) on Benadryl Gel. If you want to get that even though I told you it was useless (it really is) then fine; be my fucking guest. Get your black salve and drown yourself in it - it's your money and my time you're wasting.

It gets down to this: you want to hear me say you're right. Well, you're not. I'm sorry, but you wouldn't be guessing and/or asking if you were. I don't go to a mechanic with my car and say "could I put these bicycle tires on it, they're just as good, right?" Instead, I value their opinion so I don't crash and/or die. Take a lesson.

The next group of turds that irk me are the "I thought a pharmacist would know" assholes. A woman calls and says "What's phosphorus?" I can't conjure this, that was her question. What do you say? I said, "it's an element." That went over like a fart in church. "You don't know," asked the woman. "I just told you," I retorted. "Well what does it do?" I'm not sure what she was looking for at this point. The rest of the conversation was basically me defending my stature as a non-retarded human being. Who just sits around and thinks of this shit, seriously. I told her it's mostly used in matchtips and fireworks - not the answer she was looking for.

A woman came to the counter and said she mistakenly took her dog's heartworm medication (in a huff). "What's going to happen?," she exclaimed. After I realized she was serious, I told her to talk to poison control or her vet. How fucking stupid must you be? You took your dog's heartworm medication. How do you fuck that up? Congrats, you've made my list.

Stop making me doubt that I have a clue in life. You (the people-ish types mentioned above) need to strap it down (I have no idea what that means) and stop talking. Thanks.

User O' The Day (Two In Fact!!)

noreply@blogger.com (Natalie) — Sat, 26 Jul 2008 03:06:00 +0000

Aahh it was a bright an early Friday morning, T-minus 8 hours until my VACATION (hey, I only get one a year) and my first phone call of the day was from, oddly enough, Phrustrated's replacement in our CorpoPharma family. We chat often, I knew him as an intern, all around good guy. Anywho, it was regarding a mutual user of ours who had showed up, bright and shining at 9am at said other store looking for his "'prazolams" (I'm...not kidding) one day early. The funny part was...that his doctor's office had mailed them to my pharmacy and I had been planning to drop them off later, along with the cover scripts they mistakenly sent us as well. Well, lo and behold, not 10 minutes later I see a GIANT red-faced huffing and puffing man at my Drop-Off counter. And I mean....GIANT.
"Hey, the other pharmacy said you had my scrips!"
Yes, I did. And oh, the doctor was smart enough to even post-date it. There's a reason they do that; because they've had trouble with you getting them early before. And I even saw the pharmacy law argument coming from miles away. I informed him that we could not change the date on a controlled substance prescription over the phone and his doctor would have to write out a new one. No, he can't phone it in.
"Look, I know the law, and I know that this is only a Tier 1 medication! I gotta get these I have a big weekend planned!" A big weekend of passing out I assume.

Uh, what? You mean a generic, say I. "No, there's three tiers of drugs and these are like...Tier 1, and then there's Tier 2, and Tier 3 is like my Oxycontins and Codones (which he is on too, of course) and stuff. You know what I'm talking about."
Oh. No, I don't. So I looked the angry red fatman in the eye and say, "Actually, there are five SCHEDULES of controlled substances, and this one is a schedule 4. And I know the law, too." Angry red-faced fatman sits down muttering to himself and proceeds to whip out a cell phone and try to get ahold of his doctor's office. Then, he says those magic words: "Is there a 24-hour store around here?" And you know what, I gave the fatman his prescription; no pharmacist in their right mind would fill a post-dated control, and if he tried to change the date (a big tip-off, you users) the doctors office, just a phone call away, is closed. Mwahahahaha. So at least when he goes to fill it at 12:01am, he's not my problem.

Later today, about T-minus 4 hours til VACATION, a get a Soma script shoved at me.
"What kinda Somas do you guys have? The ones with the 'CORE'(Corepharma) or whut?" I informed him that we carried Qualitest brand. "Oh hey, lemme see those" and I show the silly user our carisoprodol, and I get the "No, I dunno what it is about some of them but those don't work, gimme my scrip back"

Ahh, what a fun-filled last day before I have to be back two Mondays from now.

noreply@blogger.com (Natalie) — Tue, 22 Jul 2008 01:45:00 +0000

So, at work we keep a log of stupid things our fine customers say. No, really. It's a notebook entitled "Famous Quotes" you all should really see it sometime. We've had quite unbelievable quotes from people, but today I added one that I think topped the charts.
And I quote: "This isn't fucking Russia!!"

Now, where would such an utterance come from, might you ask. I mean, this is a pharmacy, not a political meeting of any sort. But today, when I told a 70-something woman that she couldn't sit in the drive-thru (hence the name) for 15 minutes and wait for her prescription, so proceeded to tell me something about how "this is America" and my reply was the classic look of confusion, and this is the truth I swear, I said "uh...what?" I had to take a minute and step back and think about what this woman was telling me. But instead I told her it would be 15 minutes she could go wait in the parking lot and come back in 15 into the other lane. To this, she backed her car up, and just shimmied right into the other lane, assuming, I guess, that she was just going to wait there in the pick-up lane. I had had it so I was just going to leave her there to sit when, of course, another car pulls behind her. At this point my partner stepped in and asked the woman to move so we could take care of the person behind her and that she couldn't wait in the drive-thru. And to this, her reply was "This isn't fucking Russia!!" and then some more ramblings on about how this was just ridiculous and she left another pharmacy before this one because of the wait (basically, in a nutshell, one of the just-give-it-to-me people). The customers inside were truly aghast as the woman kept yelling in the drive-thru about America and Russia (because, I can only assume, in Russia prescriptions take 15 minutes to fill, whereas in America, they are magically filled when you get there) and then asked for her prescriptions back. I kinda want to know where she eventually took it, seeing as the store down the street from us is usually an hour wait, and the one beyond that in the next town over is probably more because they do a solid 400 by 1pm on any given Monday. I wonder if she ever found that magical pharmacy....you know the one where your prescriptions are filled with no wait and you can get your controls 15 days early.

So, for shits and giggles I call down the street to talk to Phrustrated's sister-in-law who works where the lady had just come from to hear their tale. It ran pretty much the same, only the wait-time there was 45 minutes and she had wanted to wait in the drive-thru. But I guess they were not special enough for the Russia vs. America rant.

Someday I will have to go to a pharmacy in Russia...perhaps yell at them that "This isn't America!" for no real reason whatsoever. In fact I plan on it...

turn down the bass and fill that prescription....

noreply@blogger.com (Natalie) — Sun, 06 Jul 2008 21:42:00 +0000

ahh summertime and the livin's easy. sorta.

summer has become the usual slew of "IMGOINGONVACATIONNOWANDINEEDFIVEMONTHSOFMYPRESCRIPTIONBEFOREMYPLANELEAVESIN10MINUTES" it's not any different really. i got reminded the other day of one of my most favorite customer quotes ever. "whatever happened to the five minute prescription?"
i don't know. but if this guy could find it i wouldn't want it back anyway. a customer and his wife were in the drive-thru the other day for a presciption the doctor had just called in: a z-pak. so i go to the window and say blah blah md just called it in it's going to be about 20 minutes if you'd like to come back or come inside and wait blah blah. so he looks at me and says "well don't you just have to slap a label on it?"
now, for those of you in the profession these are arguably the most hated words one can hear. so i said "it's a little more involved than that sir, thats why your pharmacist is a DOCTOR" and walked away. mostly because you wouldn't like me when i get angry.
i mean, i could go on about what filling your prescription involves, but i'm just not going to; most of you know anyway. and, in fact, now that you've said something as ignorant as that, it's going to take longer. suddenly your insurance is down, oopsie. these people can all go to hell.
but for some reason i am consoled because this is the same patiet...MALE patient...who was recently diagnosed with breast cancer. not that cancer is funny, but it is when you are a douchebag and have giant man-titties and turns out you have breast cancer. muhahahaha.

Tha money ain't a thang.....

noreply@blogger.com (Phrustrated Pharmacist) — Sat, 31 May 2008 05:24:00 +0000

Holla at your boy, it's been awhile. I'm still alive. I recently had a change in corpropharmavenues, leaving time a bit pressed and life less stressful (ha fucking za). I've learned a few immutable facts, however.

Pharmacy is pharmacy. Yes, it's deep and profound (actually that sounds terarded) but not alot is different. People are raving lunatic assholes no matter where you are, just not in massive droves like my ol' stomping grounds. I've found smaller doses (pardon) of stupid-jerk-ass-dicks are easier to tolerate than gaggles o' them. What's the point? There isn't one - I just like typing stupid-jerk-ass-dick.

People with money are just as dumb as people without money. How do these folks accumulate wealth (or the appearance of it)? Seriously, some of these douche nozzles shouldn't be able to tie their own shoes let alone carry on a normal life. For all intents and purposes these "rich people" whom "treat me like I'm a little boy who's lost" (I'm not, for the record - I'm large and trapped behind a counter like a large rat) should be lucky the automatic doors open for them. So - when you turn into Snippy McSnipperson over your copays that are always the same (read: different every month - I don't know, I just work here) don't blame me when that automatic door pinches your fat, rich ass on the way out (cocklunch).

People still make my blood boil. I do a good, neigh, great job of bullshitting but there's an inferno ready to break out. Thankfully, I'm relatively sane and will not go postal or Oprah on someone. I know "going Oprah" isn't really a term, but I still hold 2 grudges against her. Yep - Netti pots and Airborne. Oprah is not a pharmacist, doctor, nurse practitioner, midwife, physician's assistant (well...), podiatrist, chiropractor, physical therapist, accupunturist, bus driver, teacher, janitor, jizmopper or anything that gives her the authority to promote this crap. Don't listen to the Oprah, she won't give YOU a car. Only starving kids in South Africa get cars - or something like that. Fuckin' Oprah! Ughhhhh! Fuck!

There, I'm better. God, I hate Oprah.

Lovastatin OTC - Hell No, We Won't Go

noreply@blogger.com (Natalie) — Sun, 27 Apr 2008 21:38:00 +0000

I know your pharmacy members are throbbing in anticipation of a new article so....ta-da!

So recently hell froze over, I'm not sure if you know. I...I agreed with an FDA ruling on barring Lovastatin from going OTC as Mevacor 20. Now I don't have too long left in this day of usual hell, so I'm going to make this quick and painless, like Novocain.

First of all, I'd like to know who thinks that these...customers...of ours can successfully manage a medication regimen that revolves around having continuous bloodwork. Or successfully diagnose themselves with "high cholesterol." And not take them just because you're fat. People, collectively, are not very smart. Think of your own scary encounters with customers. Just think about it....

Why do I even listen?

noreply@blogger.com (Phrustrated Pharmacist) — Wed, 12 Mar 2008 01:30:00 +0000

People are the worst; Jerry Seinfeld said that. I really have lost faith in the "common man." I'm convinced the soon-to-be politically correct term will be the "uncommon man." Don't understand where I'm going with this - let's watch!

A woman called up to see if her "OPPRESSION" drug was ready. Fuck. That is the only one word sentence I could think of. Seriously, how fucking stupid does one need to be. There is a major difference between DEPRESSION (which is what I believe she was referring to - who really knows) and OPPRESSION. Unless you are a former slave or a pharmacy employee, you are not oppressed. Now, before you call me a motherfucker, I am NOT comparing slavery to pharmacy employment in any way, shape or form. We are/were not oppressed in nearly the fashion they were. We do however have to put up with alot of abuse and rarely get a bathroom break. That's neither here nor there, though. Back to "OPRESSA" as I named her in my head.....(what a great birth control name - "kill the tiny babies within you with Opressa!")

I informed her that her oppression medication was not authorized by the doctor yet and she should contact her MD about her oppression med (Oh yes I did). She is in a wheelchair and one of her sons is a dead ringer for Boy George, so maybe I'm the idiot....maybe she is oppressed (huh).

Next in line........we're getting a store face lift after the hostile takeover. PPR - that's paint, powder, reset to those playing along at home. I saw paint (whomever picked those colors should be drug out in the street and shot - twice), I saw reset; I'm not really sure about this mythical powder - it's absence has me a little worried. During the chaos of paint and swearing painters, 1 in 3 people would come up and ask: "So ur shuttin' the place down?" What......the.....fuck? Who paints a fresh coat and moves out? Okay, security deposit guy, I hear you. Really though.....They're painting 14 distinct loud, exotic, and/or hideous colors. What is going through their heads? My responses were as follows:

1. Yep, wanted to spruce 'er up before we shut 'er down...... (Blank stare)
2. Why would we paint just to move out? (Blanker stare - oh, this was the equiv of me saying fuck you without saying fuck you)
3. Yep, tomorrow we're gonna set it on fire (Blankest stare)

Well, sorry for the delay in posting. I'm sure RxforDisaster missed my lunacy.

Ta ta for now.

PP

Conversion Update

noreply@blogger.com (Natalie) — Sat, 01 Mar 2008 01:27:00 +0000

Ahoy-hoy friends, long though I have been gone, I have missed you. I mean you...the one of you out there that reads this blog....
Life has been hectic in Ye Olde Conversion. Many a night I go home, drink a bottle of wine and pass out with my cat licking my face. Only to wake up the next morning and have to go back to the Hole.
Today is Day #10 in a row and I finally have tomorrow off. Guess what I'll be doing tonight?

Some random thoughts:

I am going to find out where my customers work. I am then going to go harass them there. Even better if they are getting a new computer system. Then I will stand and scream for about 20 minutes, yell "THIS IS FUCKING RIDICULOUS" and leave.

I'm not sorry I wrote on your controlled script when you got it filled last because you're trying to get it filled 11 days early. And no, you can't sue me for doing that. I know a man named Karl who will tear you apart for saying that (most of you know who I'm talking about).

When the drive-thru is broken, it's broken. We don't do that just to spite you (or do we...?). OH and when there is an accident in the parking lot of our lovely business, DON'T call corporate and complain that you couldn't get to the drive-thru because an ambulance was blocking it (TRUE STORY).

Girls need to stop getting so uppity about their birth control.

And I WILL stab the next person who doesn't want generic Protonix.

There just aren't enough hours in a day, really.

Cheers!

noreply@blogger.com (Natalie) — Sat, 26 Jan 2008 00:51:00 +0000

I...I love the internet. Sorry pharmacy phriends, your beloved has recently moved and does not have internet access in the new digs yet. I can't recount all the happening since I have left, but I can tell you it's been a hell of a few weeks working with new computer systems and trainers from California whose lovely advice consisted of things like "well in California we do blah blah blah this way" and "I'm not sure, you should probably call your buddy store down the street." But alas they left left and the yelling ensued from customers who could obviously see a counter full of new electronic equipment but who could give a frig less and were appalled when the wait time skyrocketed to 45 minutes to an hour. This elicited responses such as "AH HOUR?!?!" and "JESUS what the hell are you guys doing back there!?!?"
sigh.
And the new cover of Drug Topics is a boat made of hypodermic needles. Weird.

But do not fear chitlins, I have not forsaken you. These visits should be more frequent now that we get WiFi here in hell and I am fortunate enough to have a laptop.
Happy dispensing to all, and to all a good night...

I'm torn: laugh or look away?

noreply@blogger.com (Phrustrated Pharmacist) — Tue, 22 Jan 2008 19:51:00 +0000

Okay, I think laugh on this one. Oxycodone and Viagra combined? Good times, good times; you'll see.........

Sorry - I had to.

Uncle! An open letter to my phones.

noreply@blogger.com (Phrustrated Pharmacist) — Thu, 17 Jan 2008 02:50:00 +0000

You win, phone; you win. Your incessant ringing and lady who says "PHARMACY, YOU HAVE A CALL....BLAHHHHH (LOUD BEEPING NOISE, SOUNDS LIKE BLAHHHHHHH)" have me beaten. That's just the start.....then one must answer said phone. I've changed my greeting to make things stupefied for my stupids, but same result. Here's a few examples:

PP: This is phrustrated, how may I help you?

Now, this seems like it has it all, no? I state my name, speak in a calm, soothing tone of voice and ask politely how I may be of service. Nope. Here's the responses I get:

1. Yeah, uhhh, is this phrustrated? (No, I like to lie about my identity right from the get-go)
2. Yeah, uhhh, did my doctor call yous? (Whenever you hear "yous" - run. Run real fast)
3. Yeah, uhhh, is my subscription done? (Where to begin?)
4. Yeah, uhhh, my doctor was supposibly gonna call yous, did he? (There's that yous again)
5. Yeah, uhhh, is this the photo area? (Why do I answer, why?)
6. Yeah, uhhh, I have some numbers....(Congratulations - I will say it one day - I don't know
when, I don't know who - but it's comin' fucka)

You may notice the first greeting of my slack-jawed contingency is "yeah, uhhh." Why is it that people cannot form a coherent sentence/statement/question/thought without the "yeah, uhhh?" I don't get it. I went to elementary/middle school in a poor, retarded town. I escaped (I mean excaped) and am able to speak without a.....ummmm......uhhh.....sttttammmmer.

Here's a bit of free advice:

Everybody's time is valuable in some way, shape or form. Think of what you're going to say ahead of time and identify yourself in some manner, please. I don't know who the fuck you are (well, actually, sometimes I do) and I don't know who your doctor is (well, sometimes I do). Chances are I'm going to reply by saying "That would all depend on who you are and who your doctor is." Never fails - next response "oh." No, your name is not "oh" fucker (unless you are by some strange miracle in fact Saduharu Oh of Japanese baseball fame - not so much). So, tell me these things three when calling:

1. Your (fucking) name - no stuttering
2. State your intentions in ten words or less
3. Your doctor if applicable

If you have refills use the automated system. It is 2008 and we've all evolved - except you phone in your numbers guy. I've tried it, it's not hard. I won't go into detail, but just mottle through and make my life a little more peaceful.

I got into an argument with a deaf woman....

noreply@blogger.com (Phrustrated Pharmacist) — Wed, 09 Jan 2008 05:51:00 +0000

.....and I lost. It wasn't a fair fight, really. First of all, it was a phone conversation. Yeah, that's right (thanks New York State). NY has a system called "NYS Relay" for the deaf/hearing impaired. It works by the deaf/hearing impaired person typing into a prompter/futuristic device ----> to an operator whom interprets and speaks to you (and says "GO AHEAD" after every fucking statement). You then respond (go ahead) -----> operator types what you say to the deaf/hearing impaired person. Let it be known a normal conversation is about as much fun as getting the back of your balls hit with a spiked bat. Now, I have nothing against deaf people; I had a late uncle who was deaf (from birth) and was quite affable. The hearing impaired, however (read: old crotchety people), are on my shitlist. Hear's (pardon the pun) how the convo went:

Me: Pharmacy, may I help you?

Operator: This is NYS relay, have you..

M: "go ahead"

O: Hi.........my........name........is.........Helen........Keller.......I......need.......rxs......delivered.......(ga)
note: (ga) will now = "go ahead" for typing/sanity purposes
M: What are the numbers (ga)?

O: I..........don't..........have............them............I...........was...........told...........to.............call..........your...
store........b/c.........you..........have...........delivery................(ga)

M: (I like where this is headed - look in Helen's profile --- last filled 2004 - fuck me) All of your rxs are expired, we'll have to contact your doctor (ga).

O: But..........I.............get..........them..........at............a..........different............chain............store......(ga)

M: We'll have to transfer the rxs to our store (ga)

O: But.........I..........was..........told.........you..........deliver...........(ga)

M: (What?) What? (ga)

O: When..........will.............I............get..........my............rxs..............?.........(ga)

M: I don't have them here, I'll have to obtain them from the other store (Oh, yeah, the rxs at said location were expired/outa refills and it was Christmas Eve - no delivery or hope until Jesus's b-day was over) (ga)

O: But.........I...........was...........told.........to.........call..........you.............(ga)

M: I don't dispute that fact (ga)

I'll end the misery here. This went on for TWENTY, count 'em, TWENTY fucking minutes of my semi-valuable life I will never get back. I stayed up twenty minutes later that night to try, but it just wasn't the same.

I hate relay calls, but the deaf/hearing impaired need phones too. I'm just glad it wasn't a Jetson's vis-a-phone or I would have really been up shit's creek. As frustrating as the relay calls may be, they beat the hell out of my knowledge of sign language - which only consists of "fuck you asshole." Come to think, that would've worked. Jesus loves me, this I know because NY relay tells me so.

Happy New Year (I think)

Help me help you

noreply@blogger.com (Phrustrated Pharmacist) — Thu, 29 Nov 2007 16:05:00 +0000

Contrary to popular belief, I am not a carnival psychic. When you call me and say: "Did my doctor call in a prescription?" I shut it down. Ever see "The Simpsons" when Homer's brain says "that's it, I'm outta here," accompanied by running footsteps and a door slamming? Well, the utter silence you hear after you utter that question is what's going on in my noggin. It's great to say nothing after that question. The lacrosse helmet wearer on the other end usually says "HELLLLOOO?"

At this point, I switch to everybody's superhero, smarmy pharmacist dickhead guy (catchy, no?). I respond to their question and subsequent HELLLOOO by saying "it would all depend on who you are and who your doctor is........."

LHW: "Huh?"

SPDG: "I'm sorry?"

LHW: "DID MY DOCTOR CALL IN MY PRESCRIPTION OR NOT?!???

SPDG: "Again, it would depend upon who you are"

LHW: "Oh. Yeah. (neither are sentences or responses by the way)

SPDG: "Will you tell me your name?"

LHW: "Ohhh- My name is Lacrosse Helmetwearer - my doc sent it over the computer..."

SPDG: (why me, why now, fuckfuckfuckfuckfuck)

LHW: "It's for a script..... (no shit)

SPDG: "Who's your doctor and what's he calling in?" (I feel like Arnold (the governator) in Kindergarten Cop at this point - "who is your daddy and what does he do?")

LHW: Ohhhhh. Ummmm Dr. Stupid and he callin' in a thing for my foot.

SPDG: (I'll give you a foot directly to your head which is up your ass - two birds one stone)
No, I'm sorry I haven't received anyth

Interrupting LHW: I just called him 15 minutes ago....

This is my typical day about 3 times an hour. I'd just like to ask everyone to please not be socially retarded. When you call anyplace, identify yourself if appropriate. You might be saving a life on the other end of the phone - mine.

I'm gonna go throw rocks at passing cars now. Ta-ta

You know, when Plan A doesn't cross anyone's mind...

noreply@blogger.com (Natalie) — Tue, 27 Nov 2007 04:19:00 +0000

I just heard a radio ad today for Plan B...or "emergency contraceptive" as they like to call it. it consists of two girls chatting away about not using condoms and the commercial ends in a nice slogan "after the fact, after the act."

now, i'll be the first to say that I have nothing at all againt Plan B. I'm not gonna bring a political argument into this but I'm pro-choice and happy to say it. What I do have a problem with is what Plan B is now being used for. I have had one, ONE, woman come to me, completely embarrassed to be buying it, explaining (not that I had asked) that he forgot to wear a condom yadda yadda.
I have had DOZENS of girls come in to buy it (or with a nice rx for it from the Planned Parenthood down the street) with no sense of the lesson here. I give out Plan B to welfare recipients who are not on any form of birth control. I gave a Plan B to a couple once where the boy exclaimed "wow $40? we got it for $20 at Planned Parenthood last time."

Last time. Meaning that this has happened more than once. Girls are currently using this as birth control, instead of practicing safe sex methods. because condoms "aren't cool." whatever. Plan B should be used exactly as its name implies: when Plan A fails.

There's no radio ad for condoms. Or for preventing STDs or how to practice safe sex. No ads telling you how many young people contract AIDS by not practicing safe sex. No ad the educates young minds about consequences of whoring around with the hottest guy in homeroom and having his baby at 16.

I'm all for Plan B for the RIGHT reasons. NOT as birth control. Sometimes I feel like throwing a 6-pack of Trojans in the bag at no cost in the hopes they'll get used. These scripts come with REFILLS. But never, NEVER do I see a Plan B script with an accompanying script for birth control. Or even condoms, cuz welfare (ahem, I and my fellow citizens with jobs) will pay for those too.

If you don't know how to take on the responsibility sex comes with, you shouldn't be having it.

We're one step away from radio ads explaining how to use a wire coat-hanger, people.

This subject really gets me fired up... so in closing let me give you some stats:

"Nearly four in 10 young women become pregnant at least once before they reach the age of 20. This totals nearly one million a year. Eight in ten of these pregnancies are unintended."

"Teen mothers are less likely to complete high school, (only one-third receive a high school diploma) and more likely to end up on welfare (nearly 80 percent of unmarried teen mothers end up on welfare)." This means that not only am I paying for your uneducated ass, I'm paying for your goddamn kid's too.

"The United States has the highest rates of teen pregnancy and births in the western industrialized world. Teen pregnancy costs the United States at least $7 billion annually." 7 fucking billion dollars.

" Every year 3 million teens--about 1 in 4 sexually active teens-get a Sexually Transmitted Disease (STD)."

oh ho and my personal favorite: " Young Americans between the ages of 13 and 24 are still contracting HIV at the rate of 2 per hour." age fucking 13.

"The correct and consistent use of latex condoms during sexual intercourse- vaginal, anal, or oral-can greatly reduce a person’ s risk of acquiring or transmitting most STDs, including HIV infection, gonorrhea, chlamydia, trichomonas, human papilloma virus infection (HPV), and hepatitis B." straight from the FDA.

sorry to go all political on you, but dammit, when you see these girls in here (especially more than once) picking up Plan B that are so young, so obviously uneducated, a part of me dies a little inside. How many STDs or pregnancies could have been prevented by using Plan A.

Do as I say and you live...

noreply@blogger.com (Natalie) — Wed, 21 Nov 2007 04:18:00 +0000

Perhaps one of the most underrated awesomely bad movies of all time, Snakes on a Plane did have its moments. Sometimes being at work is just like fighting snakes...sneaky snakes...

At any rate, I think much of my frustration stems from patients (/customers/i didn't pay that much attention in pharmacy ethics and communication) is the fact that they don't listen. I'm sure they hear me. Most of them appear to acknowledge my generous wealth of knowlegde as it pours out of my mouth in a futile attempt to better your life. I mean, if you don't want to hear my answer, please just don't bother to ask. It's a waste of my time and yours. If you ask me a question, and reply with something like "yeah but my neighbor/cribbage partner/garbage man told me such-n-such would work better" then you obviously didn't want to her my fucking opinion anyway. so go ahead and put that sweet oil that you want to pay $5 in your ear...maybe you should have listened when I say "its just olive oil" and you probably A) already have it in your house or B) should maybe find out WHY your ear hurts in the first place.
When I have to explain why things are the way they are 3+ times, I start to get a little aggravated. I know you hear me, but you have to learn to quiet the voice in your head screaming "OF COURSE I KNOW MORE THAN THIS MEDICAL PROFESSIONAL MY GREAT AUNT IS A RETIRED NURSE" while i'm talking to you.
Sometimes I have important tidbits of information for you that may mean the difference between a healthy drug regimen or blowing out your internal organs. When I explain that you shouldn't be hitting the sauce while you're on Coumadin, don't ask "are you sure?" because then I am tempted to say "well go ahead, I hope you'll be alive to tell me how that went..."
When you show me a cut/scrape/puncture wound/something impaled in your hand and ask "what should I do?" and I tell you to seek medical attention immediately, don't whine and ask me if there's just some (i can only assume magical) cream you can put on it. I know that you know that you should see a doctor; I also know that you think you can get some free medical advice and a [cheap] cure-all from your local friendly pharmacy, and I also know that if I don't tell you what you want to hear, you will throw caution to the wind and let your extremity fester until amputation.
And I'll be honest. Sometimes I give in. You'll do what you want anyway. So I'll send you on your merry way with a tube of Neosporin.

But don't say I didn't warn you. Shut your damn yap and listen. When you OD on Lortab (better known as Loritabs) or get pregnant while on Amoxicillin I'll be the one giving you a nice smile-n-wave next time you're in the drugstore.
Maybe you can name the baby after me.

Are we speaking the same language?

noreply@blogger.com (Phrustrated Pharmacist) — Sat, 17 Nov 2007 04:27:00 +0000

I wonder this often during my workday. The biggest problem being I don't work in a non-English speaking area (kinda). The people in my 'hood speak "English," but the words are severely misplaced. It's sort of like communicating with a schizophrenic on acid. I've never done this per say, but I can imagine it's similar to my everyday struggles.

Case in point: A cute lady comes to the counter. When I say "cute" I mean morbidly obese with a noticeable five o'clock shadow. Yes, I'm being ironic; no, I'm not a chubby, bearded lady chaser. She comes up to me with an empty rx vial (concealed in her fat little hoof) and spews: "Could this be making me feel like I am?" She was quite nervous and agitated. Where to begin?

My mind said:

What the..? Why is your beard thicker than mine? How many calories does it take to be thaaat fat?(she was a 4X4 - 4 feet high, 4 feet wide) What are you holding? What the...? How did you escape from the carnival? God she's hideous, I think I just threw up in my mouth a little...

But my response was: "What?"

Fat Lady w/ Beard: "I've been having jags of fits lately.!..!!"

Me (in head): What the fuck is a jag of a fit?!?

Me: "Okkaaay...."

FLw/B: "Could it be this?" (speaking of nothing in particular)

Me (in head): What the fuck is a jag.......

Me: "What? ..... What are you pertaining (word to big) to?

FLw/B: "Huh?"

Me (in head): Fuck me, where do they keep finding them and why do they keep coming to me?

FLw/B: "Could it be this....?"

This went on for about 10 minutes. She finally revealed her vial and was asking if her BP med was making her crazy. Life had already done it's fair share I'm afraid. After much deliberation, I assured her that her BP med was not the culprit and gave her some suggestions which she appeared to ignore. She came back the next day with scripts for anxiety. I couldn't believe she actually sought the help I advised! What's the moral of the story, you ask? I have no idea and I still don't know what a "jag of a fit" is. I doubt I ever will - neigh, I don't want to know. Just another day in pharmacy paradise.

Ask your doctor about......

noreply@blogger.com (Phrustrated Pharmacist) — Sat, 17 Nov 2007 04:15:00 +0000

I feel this pretty much sums up every douchebag commercial that is on TV today. Enough is enough....I'm talking to you Lipitor(TM), Veramyst(TM), and viiivvvaaaa Viagra(TM). Fuck off.

Love,

Phrustrated Pharmacist