The Phunny Pharm

iPhagina

noreply@blogger.com (Mal Dongle) — Sun, 25 May 2014 08:38:00 +0000

Early one afternoon, a young, blonde woman approached the busy pharmacy counter and asked a female assistant if she could speak to the pharmacist about an issue her friend had. She mentioned that her friend had a rash and had sent a picture via sms to the young, blonde woman's iphone. My young assistant approached me at the dispensary counter to notify me that a lady was waiting, her friend had a rash and she had a picture of it on her phone.

It was quite a busy moment and I had to pass the message on that I would finish the prescriptions I was preparing. The blonde woman patiently waited five minutes for me to dispense and counsel my current client.

Upon finalising the sale, I approached the young, blonde woman and asked, "So, your friend has a rash?"

The blonde woman pulled out her iphone while explaining that her friend was too embarrassed to seek help herself, but obviously not so embarrassed that she could send a friend in to show me the photo. The picture, as it happens, was a lady's vagina, shaven, with a small tuft of blonde hair around the top of the labia and an indiscernible rash in-between her bottom 'lips' and the shadow of her right leg.'Oh... that's why it's embarrassing,' was my first thought.

You may be thinking that my second thought was, 'This lady is blonde. The (limited) hair I see in this photo is blonde. It's probably just her own pussy!'

Instead, being a guy, I was thinking, 'Don't smile. Don't laugh. Don't smile. Don't laugh. Don't smile. Don't laugh... ' And much of the reason I found this situation funny, aside from the unexpected private parts, and my gender, was remembering back a few months earlier. Another assistant at the same pharmacy had a similar situation where a woman showed a phone picture of her infected pussy, to which the assistant replied, "Umm... you should probably see a doctor..." Then complained in a hilarious manner, once all customers had left, that she doesn't work in a pharmacy to look at people's private parts. Go to the doctor when it's that bad! You really had to be there... it was quite a funny response...

During the current exchange, I managed, with great difficulty, to remain professional and indicated that the picture was of poor quality and I couldn't really diagnose the rash. The blonde woman's 'friend' should go to the doctor to have it properly examined.

While we were discussing this, the blonde woman's 'friend' sent another, clearer image, somewhat proving it wasn't the woman's genitals standing before me and most likely a real friend without the inverted commas. This new image showed some possible blisters, but it was still too difficult to tell. From the information gathered and the poor quality photos, I believed the most likely cause of the rash to be herpes. Again, I referred her to the doctor, denoting, as herpetic rashes are cause by a virus, that we had nothing over the counter to help treat it and that it is always best practice to have the doctor examine the rash to ensure an accurate diagnosis. I also mentioned that the doctor could write a prescription for antiviral therapy that could assist, another reason she should see the doctor.

The young, blonde woman finally left after I had handed her a list of doctors her friend could visit. Then I was able to let my facial muscles express what they had wanted to do the whole conversation, "Hahahahaha..." Such relief!

Phive is NOT Phour!

noreply@blogger.com (Mal Dongle) — Sat, 12 Apr 2014 09:45:00 +0000

Early one script-filled afternoon doing a locum shift in a busy suburban pharmacy, a pharmacy assistant received a prescription from a dark African man with a deeply toned accent. He requested she first ask one of the pharmacists how much the brand name item would cost him as well as the price of the generic alternative. I responded to this request, discovering the original item to be Coversyl 5mg.

My research concluded that this particular supermarket pharmacy sold the Coversyl 5mg brand, at the time, for approximately $23 and the generic for around $16. I relayed this information to the assistant who explained to the African patient. He eagerly decided to take the cheaper option, saving money from the last time he purchased at another pharmacy.

###
Now, before I continue the story further, there's something I must explain to you about Coversyl 5mg and the generic versions. The active ingredient in Coversyl 5mg is perindopril attached to the molecule arginine as a salt. Before Coversyl came off patent in Australia (the patent expired sometime early 2007, from memory), the makers & sponsors of Coversyl in Australia, Servier, changed the salt from perindopril erbumine to its current from of perindopril arginine in August 2006. As I have already mentioned, Coversyl 5mg is perindopril arginine 5mg, but the old perindopril erbumine salt was 4mg!

At the time of the change, Servier explained that the strengths were bioequivalent. See this NPS article for proof: Click this boring article.

The purpose of this change, while generic companies were in the middle of creating their own generic perindopril erbumine, was to prevent those same generic companies from coming onto the market and also prevent patients from switching to cheaper alternatives. Therefore, Servier would see less of their profits go to generic companies. Patients would now see them as different strengths, and initially, this system worked. This process is called ever-greening and is just another common form of corporate greed in the pharmaceutical industry.

The main reason this sneaky change worked was because it took nearly 6 months for Australian authorities to officially list the generic perindopril erbumine 4mg as an equivalent product to the Coveryl, perindopril arginine 5mg. This was so stupid and I will explain using the following formula:

Servier told us: perindopril erbumine 4mg = perindopril arginine 5mg

Which is: Coversyl 4mg = Coversyl 5mg

Generic companies produced their products to be exactly equivalent to Coversyl's perindopril 4mg.

Therefore: Coversyl 4mg = Generic 4mg

Finally, this should mean: Generic 4mg = Coversyl 5mg

Not hard maths, is it?

This was possibly one of the most boring explanations I ever wrote... Let's continue.
###

Now, after I dispensed the prescription, the assistant took the medication to the patient. Immediately, he questioned why it was now 4mg instead of 5mg and asked to speak to me. I stepped down from the dispensary and began my above (boring) explanation. As I barely finished my first sentence, he looked at me with anger in his eyes and said, "I've done chemisty, and I know that 5mg is not 4mg!"

"I know," empathising with him, "but please let me explain."

"No!" He replied, boiling. "5mg is not 4mg! I know chemistry!"

"OKAY, OKAY," I responded with calm. "I'll change it to the 5mg version." I adjusted the prescription back to the $23 Coversyl 5mg brand and handed it to the assistant to put through the payment at the till.

I continued with other prescriptions when suddenly, the same assistant was standing next to me and said, "The African gentleman changed his mind and wants the $16 version."

"OKAY..." I uttered with slight frustration, and changed the prescription back to the 4mg Generic worth $16.

About 20 seconds later, I clearly heard the yelling coming from the counter area, "5MG IS NOT 4MG!!!"

I went down to the cash register, armed with a stapler, where the African gentleman was standing. I calmly took back the medication, removed the dispensing stickers from the prescription, stapled it back the way it was before he entered the pharmacy, and as I handed the prescription back to him, said, "I'm sorry, we can't help you." I then turned around and headed back to the dispensary.

Phretphul Phuss

noreply@blogger.com (Mal Dongle) — Fri, 26 Jul 2013 11:07:00 +0000

One evening, in a busy late night pharmacy, I was handed a prescription from my pre-registrant pharmacist. He said to me, “This lady would like you to hand out this script to her. You’ll like her,” with a cheeky grin on his face.

“Ok…” I replied cautiously as I continued dispensing.

When I completed the prescription order handed to me by my pre-registrant pharmacist, I called out the name on the prescription and was greeted by a short stumpy woman, likely to be mid 50’s, with short brown hair and glasses. I explained what I needed to about her prescription, and then placed her script paper on the counter for her to sign the bottom. At the time, I could not find a pen for her to use. I apologised and headed back to the dispensary to pick up one of my reliable pens then went back to the counter where she was waiting rather impatiently.

“Here’s a pen,” I said handing it over to her.

Immediately she responded by saying, “No!” I was a little shocked to hear that kind of response and didn’t understand what she meant by it. I was just handing her a pen to use.

“Not like that,” she continued. “Put it down!”

“Excuse me?” I replied confused. “Put what down?”

“The pen!” She said. “Put it on the table.”

“You can just take the pen from me. Here,” As I held out the pen to her.

“No! You’re not listening. Put it on the table.”

“Would you like another pen?” I went to grab another pen from the dispensary, but before I could walk more than 2 steps, she said, “No!” again with a frustrated sigh.

“Put the pen on the table so I can pick it up. I can’t touch it from you directly.”

At that point I felt a little dirty. Did she think I had some sort of disease? Cooties? And she couldn’t touch the pen while I had hold of it?

I put the pen on the table with hesitation and a puzzled look on my face. “See. Now I can pick it up,” she exclaimed as she signed her prescription.

I collected the signed script and the pen from the counter and put them out of the way then asked how she wanted to pay for it.

“Credit,” she replied as she threw her card on the table so that I wasn’t touching the card while she was holding it.

“You’ll need to sign the bottom of the receipt for the credit card purchase,” I explained as I put the receipt down on the table and handed her the pen again. She took the pen directly from my hand.

“Nooooo….” She sighed, closed her eyes and threw her head back as she realised she had taken the pen directly from my hands. “Now I’m infected,” she complained with a solemn dismay. “You need to put the pen on the counter first before I can touch it.” She placed the pen on the counter then picked it up again as if that would reverse the ‘infection.’

“Oh…” I said as I realised she had some form of anxiety, most likely about personal contact or hygiene.

She signed the credit card slip, finished the transaction and left the pharmacy in a sombre mood about what had just transpired.

Meanwhile, my pre-registrant pharmacist remained in the dispensary with a grin from ear to ear.

Grandphather Pharmacist

noreply@blogger.com (Mal Dongle) — Fri, 12 Jul 2013 05:10:00 +0000

One morning on opening of the pharmacy with a female assistant, a note was left from the pharmacist from the previous night regarding the return of an item. The item was a badly dented 900g tin of S26 Gold Comfort baby formula.

The note indicated that the woman who returned the can of formula claimed to have purchased it from our pharmacy. The pharmacist, who was known for not being the sharpest tool in the shed and on the wrong side of 60 (imagine Mr Magoo), wrote in the note that he couldn’t find the product on the pharmacy’s computer system so refunded it at the price the woman said she paid for it without a receipt! That was around $24!

The assistant and I examined the can more closely and I said, “Do we even sell S26 Gold Comfort?”

My assistant checked the back office system and replied, “No. We’ve never even purchased it for the shelves!”

Reading the note further, the pharmacist explained in his writings that he felt pressured into doing the refund and that the lady has ‘probably’ conned us!

I looked at my assistant and stated, “That last sentence should read something more like, ‘I’m too old to be a pharmacist and should retire because this lady ‘canned’ me.’”

We shared a laugh.

##
But seriously, to all the old(er) pharmacists, please be more methodical when you’re in charge of someone else’s business. I actually do like working with you because, as you can see, I enjoy listening to your interesting experiences.

And to all pharmacists, learn your boundaries and be confident in your decisions. If you think it’s wrong, it probably is and just because ‘everyone else does it,’ doesn’t make it correct!

Phunky Phagina

noreply@blogger.com (Mal Dongle) — Wed, 26 Jun 2013 07:33:00 +0000

One quiet afternoon, working in a cosy shopping centre pharmacy, a woman and her toddler son came in to fetch some fairly unremarkable items - the first being just some regular Band-aids. At the time, there were probably another two to three customers being served by other pharmacists or assistants closer to the service counter.

I escorted her to the Band-aids as she requested, then I asked her what the other item was she was looking for.

She replied with, “I’m just after some Gamophen soap.”

Before I could utter a word, her son chimed in loudly, “To wash your vagina!”

I paused for a moment, bathing myself in the awkwardness of the situation and said something I somewhat regret, directed back at the young toddler, “Um… probably a bit more information than I needed, but here is the Gamophen,” as I pointed out its location to the mother.

#######

Gamophen Soap is a medicated soap containing Triclosan that acts as an antibacterial and can help to reduce body odour.

#######

I believe she felt lucky that no one but myself seemed to hear her son's exclamation.

After this uncomfortable incident, I could only wonder at how amazing it is that kids can struggle to comprehend lessons at school, but pay enough attention at places like the General Practitioner's office to repeat the most embarrassing of conversations. Children are full of comedy gold!

Phorthwith Phanny

noreply@blogger.com (Mal Dongle) — Sun, 26 May 2013 09:02:00 +0000

One quiet afternoon, while working with only one other assistant, a really tall lady with massive breasts, wearing a tight red dress entered the pharmacy with a prescription. I pleasantly served her while looking up into her eyes, rather than her shapely mammaries located at my eye level. I told her the prescription wouldn't take long as she was the only customer in the store and invited her to look around the shop while she waited.

I proceeded to dispense her prescription in the dispensary, at which time, my assistant casually approached me from her other duties of organising the recently delivered order and whispered, "Aren't you glad I left that customer for you?"

"You were busy doing the order," I replied, "So it's no problem."

"I thought you'd like a good look at her boobs," My assistant stated with a smirk.

At that very moment, the tall lady in the red dress with the big melons dropped some of her shopping in front of the service counter. She bent down to pick it up while facing away from us and both the assistant and I had a full moon view of her refined posterior.

The timing of the assistant's comment and our unexpected 'cheeky' observation forced us both into sudden, quieted laughter and an immediate crouch behind the dispensary counter to hide our amusement from the only customer in our shop.

My assistant regained her composure first, and before she left, declared, "Sometimes, you just have a good day..." Which kept me crouched in hushed laughter.

Eventually, I was able to complete the lady in red's prescription and serve her without so much as a smile, although it was a struggle. Once she had left, I was able to reveal to my assistant, "Yes. She had a nice figure, but... she was too tall..."

That put a smile on both our faces and had us reminiscing over the perfect timing of this most recent memorable event.

Pheel Good Phit-pack

noreply@blogger.com (Mal Dongle) — Fri, 03 May 2013 02:08:00 +0000

Very late one evening, a drunkard stumbled in from the nearby pub, slurring every word he uttered. The pharmacist on duty at the time was available to serve him, yet struggled to understand exactly what he wanted. Instead, the pharmacist commented on how good a night the gentleman obviously had had.

This started up a whole conversation between the pharmacist and the inebriated man, one side professional & cheerful, the other almost completely incomprehensible.

Nearing the end of their buoyant discussion, the pharmacist tried to discern the product the gentleman was after. As it turned out, it appeared the intoxicated party was after what is commonly termed, a fit-pack. An item packaged with three to five 1mL syringes (depending on the pack size requested), which, in its heyday was used by diabetics to inject insulin. Since, in Australia, most insulin requiring diabetics now receive their insulin injecting equipment for free, they are most commonly reserved for drug addicts to obtain clean needles, rather than share syringes, as well as their diseases.

The intoxicated gentleman put $20 on the counter, while still in conversation with the pharmacist, of whom processed the sale. The pharmacist then left the fit-pack and the money on the counter. The drunken man fumbled while retrieving his money then looked puzzled at the fit-pack, muttering loudly, “What’s this?”

He ripped open the fit-pack peering inside. “Syringes?!?” He slurred with gusto. “I didn’t ask for syringes!”

Then he stumbled out the front door of the pharmacy, never realising he spent $8 and left the item he didn’t need or want on the counter…

Phrankly. Phorked...

noreply@blogger.com (Mal Dongle) — Fri, 15 Mar 2013 12:19:00 +0000

One quiet morning in the pharmacy, an older woman on her way to work - above the age of 60 at a glance - came in and asked, "Do you have magnifying glasses?"

To which I replied, "Ah, I'm not sure. I'll have to check. Possibly with a lice checking kit?"

"No, you should have a stand of them," as she used her thumb and index finger on each hand to make a circle, then gestured up to her eyes as if she was putting on glasses.

"Oh!" I said with realisation, "You mean reading glasses! Just over here," as I led her to the stand displaying the reading glasses.

"No," She replied bluntly, "Those are metal. I'm allergic to metal."

And she walked angrily out the front door without saying a word. I really hope she uses a plastic fork...

Phlamboyant Phudge

noreply@blogger.com (Mal Dongle) — Mon, 14 Jan 2013 11:49:00 +0000

One morning, a gentleman entered the pharmacy talking on a mobile, smartly dressed, then asked me for some cold & flu tablets with a ‘queer’ accent while finalising his phone conversation. He decided he also needed a few quick-eze chewys – and there was nothing wrong with that.

After completing the first purchase, he then asked in his flamboyant manner, “I know this might sound a bit awkward, but I’m looking for these things that you squirt in you,” while gesturing to his posterior, “and they flush you out.”

“Yeah,” I replied cautiously, “enemas.”

“Yeah. Those things, ” he said brazenly, as if he didn’t know.

I led him to the ‘Bums & Tums’ area of the pharmacy (where all the products for conditions such as constipation, diarrhoea, indigestion, etc, are kept) and showed him the microlax enemas.

Microlax enemas are small 15mL solutions for single use to be inserted into the rectum and the lubricating liquid squeezed inside the anus to soften faeces and gently stimulate peristaltic movement of the smooth bowel muscles in the colon resulting in evacuation within 15 minutes after application. Adults, children and infants can use them for the treatment of constipation. They are not used for a bowel cleansing or detoxification.

“Oh, don’t they come in bottles?” He asked as if he needed to use a lot for an unmentioned reason – a disturbing image suddenly popped into my head and I remained silent. “GROSS!” He finished saying - and my thoughts came to the same conclusion.

Phlaming Stripper

noreply@blogger.com (Mal Dongle) — Mon, 12 Nov 2012 13:00:00 +0000

One evening, working in an extended hours chemist, a fairly attractive woman with a fit body came in to ask some advice. Unfortunately, I was busy serving other customers at the time, so my female pre-registrant pharmacist – graduated from university but not yet registered as a pharmacist (an intern) – assisted the woman.

The pre-registrant pharmacist and the woman disappeared into the counseling room, leaving myself and another assistant to handle the last few customers. I trusted this pre-registrant knew what she was doing, so left her to handle the situation on her own.

Upon emerging from the counseling room, the attractive woman purchased a burn cream and a couple hydro-active dressings from my pre-registrant pharmacist.

Once the attractive woman left, there were no more customers remaining in the store and my pre-registrant pharmacist sauntered back to the dispensary counter with a cheeky grin. She then gloated, “Guess what, Mal?” and before I could respond, said, “I got to see her boobs!”

“Yeah, well. I’ve seen plenty of boobs before,” I retorted.

She laughed then spoke with a slick tongue, “She told me she’s a stripper and she does a show where she rubs a flame over her body. She puts sorbolene cream all over herself just beforehand so that she doesn’t burn her skin, but she missed a tiny spot on one of her boobs and burnt herself a little.”

… mmm… boobs…

Oh sorry. I got carried away a little. I responded, “So were they real or fake?”

Phorklift Phuss

noreply@blogger.com (Mal Dongle) — Wed, 24 Oct 2012 09:01:00 +0000

Wow, Been a while... Here's another small one:

In one Pharmacy I worked in near an industrial area, one gentleman came in regularly to buy Ventolin - more often than he should be really. I always asked him the necessary questions and he always gave the correct answers.

One day, when I knew he had been in less than three days before, I decided to confront him with a more aggressive approach. "You've been buying Ventolin a little too often. Are you needing to use it more than 3 times per week? How are you using it?"

"Yeah, I came in a few days ago but I don't need to use it that often." He responded. "I keep the inhaler in my pocket while I'm working in my forklift, it can get a little dusty at times. I don't realise they keep dropping out of my pocket until I hear a, 'BOOF!' That's when I realise I've run over it... again!"

To put it simply, Ventolin is an asthma inhaler with a pressurised canister. The 'BOOF,' sound the client explains hearing is the explosion of the canister and the sudden release of the pressurised contents. Think of your deodorant spray can exploding - although the Ventolin canister is about one tenth the size.

Pheatured Again!

noreply@blogger.com (Mal Dongle) — Thu, 09 Feb 2012 11:33:00 +0000

My blog has been featured on someone else's blog/website again! Check it out:

Click here please... or don't. Your loss...

It's somewhere in the middle. One day I'll be featured at the top. One day...

Pheeble-minded Pharmacy Assistant

noreply@blogger.com (Mal Dongle) — Thu, 09 Feb 2012 11:19:00 +0000

It's been way more than 6 months, so I'll make my come back with a short one. I'm still very busy!

One afternoon, a woman comes into the pharmacy and hands the assistant a prescription. "I'd like the genetic brand please," She stated.

Now, if you know what the word 'genetic' means, you'll know that it has very little to do with medicine:

GENETIC: of or relating to genetics, genes, or the origin of something
GENE: A segment of DNA, occupying a specific place on a chromosome, that is the basic unit of heredity.

What her intended word was, although she didn't know it, is the word, generic.

GENERIC: 1. applicable or referring to a whole class or group; general
3. denoting the nonproprietary name of a drug, food product, etc.

Hearing the word 'genetic' being used instead of the word 'generic' is a daily occurrence in the pharmacy, so the pharmacy assistant and I just carried on our business, understanding what the lady meant.

Once the prescription was finished, I counselled the lady as usual, and upon finishing she said, "I'd like to give you my resume as I'm looking for a job in pharmacy."

My reply, "ah, yeah ok."

As she left the pharmacy, her resume was filed into the 'out' tray (the bin).

Phoxy Photos

noreply@blogger.com (Mal Dongle) — Fri, 22 Jul 2011 04:10:00 +0000

Back in the glory years of pharmacy, before the digital age, there used to be this service called photo processing. For those that don't remember, it involved dropping off 35mm film from a camera then sending it to a company who processed the photos and returned it the following day. Rarely, the pharmacy had its own processing lab and could have the photos processed in an hour. That was like 5 years ago...

I was lucky enough to work in a pharmacy that actually had one of those processing labs. Often, one of the assistants that was trained to process photos would bring someone's unusual photo to the dispensary and show the staff - and we would laugh! Boy did we laugh sometimes... good times.

On one occasion, an assistant brought over another unusual photo to the dispensary and said to us, "This is how I like to watch TV!"

On display was an overweight, blonde sheila sitting on a couch - not unusual so far, I mean, that's where you see a lot of overweight people sitting. The unusual thing was... She was completely NEKKED!!! (That's 'naked' for those that don't know how to spell cool on the internet - because I'm hip).

Imagine pale white skin, some of it red and chafed, rolls of fat (definitely not p.h. phat - that's a cool way of saying 'fat' ;)), droopy boobs and Allota Fagina! (Not the character from Austin Powers - See Alotta Fagina).

Gross!

So for that, the customer that had those photos processed were charged a dishonour fee. I think it was around $10... but only after we laughed at the photo first.

---

In a different time, at another pharmacy that had film sent off to a central location to be processed, one of the male pharmacy students was a little bit... horny, so to speak.

What seemed to be a fairly regular occurrence, attractive women would drop off film to process. Each time he would attempt to chat the girls up. He would fail, but he would mark their processing envelope so he would remember which one was theirs when they returned.

On one occasion, he accepted film from a woman he described as, 'Saucy.' He had a feeling she would be the dirty type so he couldn't resist, when her photos were returned, to carefully, ever so carefully, open the tape holding the envelope closed with a razor blade. On inspection of the photos, there was nothing special, a few people in a group photo at a house, party perhaps. Flicking through, oh there's a dog, picture of food, until...

He found something! On one of the occasions the camera was used, there was another party. The girl he failed at picking up at the pharmacy counter was in it with two of her girlfriends dressed, in what could only be described as, 'slutty attire.' SCORE!!

But wait, there's more! As he scrolled through the photos, an object started to be incorporated into their poses... a banana! Now if you are a dirty little pharmacist like me, you can imagine the banana was being put in people's mouths, held at backsides in a provocative manner - and it was! LEVEL UP!

Unfortunately, the photos with the phallic object ended, and so did the sluttiness. Wait, did I say 'unfortunately?' I meant, 'Thank god,' because I'm professional.

The horny student, after having his fix, replaced the sticky tape so the photos looked like they were never tampered with, because that is wrong! And the attractive woman had no idea. End story.

Aren't you glad your photos are digital now and you don't have to print them to view them? Just don't put them online, or have you computer hacked, etc.

*Disclaimer: I don't condone the viewing of other peoples personal items without permission, but from what I hear, it happens every day. This is no excuse for what these staff members did and I urge all pharmacists to be professional. This story shows you what could happen, or has already happened to you, so be careful with your belongings.

Phuk Yeah!

noreply@blogger.com (Mal Dongle) — Sun, 12 Jun 2011 10:34:00 +0000

Was just checking some background stuff to do with this blog and accidentally discovered I made someone's top 50 list!

Check it here: Pharmacy technician certification - 50 Best Blogs About Pharmaceuticals

It's somewhere near the bottom... but that's not a bad thing! Pity I didn't make the top 5 though. Might have to whore myself out a bit harder next time... hehe.

And here I thought only 3 people read this blog. Four if you include me!!

Phalling Anatomy

noreply@blogger.com (Mal Dongle) — Sun, 12 Jun 2011 09:48:00 +0000

While working in a pharmacy, you get to meet a lot of children, some cute, some loud, some messy, some ugly (have you ever seen a really ugly baby and then said to the mother, ‘oh how adorable’?), but I’ll be honest, mostly cute. And I’m saying that because I only have to see them for five to ten minutes at a time. Once they’ve finished being cute in my presence they can go back to their parents and have runny diarrhoea for all I care! I usually only get to see their good side.

So one day, a grandma and grandpa come in to get their prescriptions with their cute little blonde grandson in tow – probably around 2-3 years old. He walks all over the pharmacy asking, “What’s that poppy?”

Grandma and Grandpa are obviously a tad bit annoyed, but I’m finding it cute. My assistant notices that Grandma & Pa don’t want to be chasing him all over the shop, so offers the young lad some stickers one of the pharmaceutical reps left to promote one of their over the counter antihistamines (Yes, promoting to children is slightly dishonest, but it works).

Grandpa and the toddler start putting stickers all over the toddler’s arms, and he stops being so annoying.

I finish the grandparent’s scripts and process the sale through the till. They begin to leave and tell the young one to wave goodbye. Instead he says, “My dick fell off!”

Yes, it definitely sounded like he said his dick fell off! Grandpa immediately asks, “What did you say?”

We all see the boy reaching on the floor for one of his stickers, “Oh, your sticker fell off,” Grandpa said, “That’s ok then. C’mon then, hurry up, Grandma’s waiting.”

See, kids are cute! But only in small doses. You can tell I'm not a parent...

yet...

When I’m at a Conpherence, everything has to be Phree!

noreply@blogger.com (Mal Dongle) — Sun, 22 May 2011 10:26:00 +0000

A long time ago, in a Pharmacy Conference far, far away, when I had just graduated as a pharmacist, I went around trying to grab everything I could that was free - as you do at those sorts of things. It’s what they are there for, not for learning anything and certainly not for buying anything!

I got a few free magnets, coffee mugs, heaps and heaps of pens, samples of all sorts of creams and lotions (no, there were no samples of Viagra – it probably wasn’t even around then…), had my bone density tested for free, and it was extremely good for my age… well, back then it was. I even got to taste test some wine! Why taste testing of wine was at a pharmacy conference I’ll never know, but hell, who cares! It was FREE!

As I was driving, and didn’t really like the taste of 'something, something' brand of wine years ago – being young I was into shooters, spirits, pre-mixed drinks and boutique beer – I decided to use the spit bucket they had provided. I tried the first wine. Ew, yuck, spit. Tried the second wine. Not too bad, spit.

I met up with a friend at the time; they tried the first wine after I had finished tasting both. Their face distorted in a relatively, disgusted manner, so I offered them the spit bucket, “Here, that’s the spit bucket.”

The lady organising the wine tasting said, “No, don’t spit in there!”

Too late, my friend had already emptied the cheap wine they were making us taste… for free, into the bucket.

“No, that’s for people to put their business cards in and win a free case of wine!” She continued.

“Oops. Sorry. Didn’t realise. Where’s your spit bucket then?” I said apologetically.

“We don’t have one!” She said as she began ‘saving’ the business cards, shaking them in the air to dry off.

“Well that’s a bit stupid then, isn’t it?” I retorted and walked away.

Just between you and me, I close my eyes when I spit… That’s why I never noticed the business cards! ;)

Surprise! Phluids!

noreply@blogger.com (Mal Dongle) — Sun, 15 May 2011 14:44:00 +0000

Oh man! It's been, like, 10 years since I posted anything!

I could write about why I've had no time to write recently, but I don't care. I mean, you don't care... (I still don't care).

So here's the latest addition:

One afternoon, a mother came in with her two young toddlers, the youngest a boy, the other a girl. She asked me if we had any nappies. “Of course,” I said and showed her to the baby section.

After selecting a convenience size pack of nappies for her son, she then asked me if we kept napisan, to which I replied, “Of course.”

She then explained that her son had pooped in the car and wasn’t wearing a nappy, the one time she thought she could get away without him wearing a nappy. She was going straight home after this to clean the car, and his pants, in napisan. She then asked me, “Do you have a toilet where I can clean him up a bit and change him?”

To which I replied, “Of course!”

I gave her the key to the toilet and a few minutes later she emerged to return it then asked, “Oh, do you have vomit bags by any chance?”

To which I replied, “ah, no… sorry.” (c’mon! we can’t keep everything!).

“Oh that’s ok, I was just hoping to keep one in the car. My daughter vomited in the car park from the smell of the poo, thankfully not in the car. Just wanted one in case it happens again and then I wont have to clean two messes.”

“Well you can take a plastic bag for now?” I offered.

“It’s ok, I only need to drive a short distance home now,” she gathered her kids then muttered, “Sigh… children, always full of surprises.”

“And poo,” I thought to myself.

“Oh, and also vomit… actually, lets just say bodily fluids,” Still thinking to myself.

Pharmacist Phail

noreply@blogger.com (Mal Dongle) — Wed, 17 Nov 2010 14:20:00 +0000

I've been so busy lately I've had no time to write anything! Very sorry, not that anyone really noticed... I'm the pharmacist who phailed...

Anyway, here's a short one for you:

A lady walks into the pharmacy and says to the pharmacy student, "I want a spray or something to numb the pain in my ear from this ear piercing I got yesterday. It's really sore!"

"Oh yeah, well, I don't really have anything. But, hang on, you could try this! Stud 100 spray! It' a local anaesthetic spray so can numb the pain!"

"Really? That sounds good!"

The pharmacist, who overheard the interaction, then steps in, "No! That spray's for premature ejaculation! You can't use it on your ear!!"

For another of my stories on this famous (possibly infamous) local anaesthetic spray, click here: Stud 100.

Pharmacist Inphatuation

noreply@blogger.com (Mal Dongle) — Sat, 30 Oct 2010 02:54:00 +0000

A woman with scruffy hair and raggedy clothes comes in one morning to the pharmacy and says to me, "Where's Andy?"

I reply to her, "Andy's not here today."

Abruptly, she says, "Why is he not here?"

"He's not rostered on," I answered calmly.

"Can you get him?"

"No."

Then things got a little weird when she announced, "I love him! You're probably jealous because I love him."

"I don't like men in that way," I stated firmly. A smile nearly breached my expression, as I thought to myself, "This lady is crazy!"

"Andy's fucking that Asian bitch anyway!" A true statement as Andy and another of the pharmacists were dating - and she was Asian... and a little bitchy too.

"What about you, are you married? I might come after you!"

Slightly panicked by this woman's obvious mental issues, lied to her question, "Uh... almost married."

Disappointed and frustrated, she then said, "Don't worry about it then."

There was a brief pause before anyone said anything else.

"You know, I'm loaded! I have a mansion. Two mansions!! I'll come back to see Andy." She added.

"OK, no problems. We'll be seeing you then," I said hoping she would leave.

"Is there anyone else?" Now she sounded way too desperate and way too crazy!

"No," I replied while staring directly at a male pharmacy assistant, who also appeared dumbfounded, "Andy and I are the only two male pharmacists."

Thankfully, I never saw her again.

Phunky Phragrance

noreply@blogger.com (Mal Dongle) — Thu, 14 Oct 2010 03:22:00 +0000

One morning working as a student, I was given the task of filling Webster-paks (Blister packs) for community clients. That involves organising all their medication into a single blister for each dosing time of the day, breakfast, lunch, dinner, bedtime.

While fulfilling this task, I was exempt from any contact with customers. I was working out in the back staffroom but could still hear transactions as they happened. Being a fairly busy time of the morning, I always seemed to be able to hear at least one customer jabbering on about their problems.

Filling Webster-paks is a really boring, mundane job, so I was working quickly to finish and was sweating a little. Yes, I would prefer to serve customers than to organise Webster-paks!

After a while, I could smell the sharp odour of a sweaty person. I was sure it was me, I was working so hard! I sniffed my armpits to see if the smell got any worse - not really. I was still thinking I was the culprit, I had to be sure!

I made the excuse to grab a few more medications off the dispensary shelves for a client. I walked out of the staffroom, which was behind the dispensary and the smell immediately consumed my olfactories! (The sensory nerves for smell). I could see a few staff talking to a few customers. As I walked closer to the counter, next to the dispensary, the smell got worse, and it became clear who the culprit was.

An obese lady, with ratty hair, a long tatty dress, sweating profusely from the forehead, complete with a red, 'I've just done too much exercise,' look on her face, speaking to the pharmacist about her scripts. Yep, it was definitely her! I scurried back to the staff room, holding my breath - the smell wasn't so bad in there.

Then I came to a realisation, the obese lady was at least five metres from the door of the staffroom! And it was tucked in behind the dispensary with only one entrance! That's a pungent stench! She probably only walked from her car to the front counter to cause that much odour! Well, probably not, it wasn't exactly a cold day, and she probably did a heap of exercise before she came to the pharmacy. Well, probably not very physical exercise.

I listened for when the obese lady left then went back out to discuss her B.O with the pharmacist, of whom didn't flinch the whole time she was talking to the obese lady!

"She comes in all the time for her scripts," the pharmacist replied to my inquisition. "She always smells that bad. I'm getting used to it."

Meanwhile, one of the pharmacy assistants had grabbed a perfume tester from the perfume cabinet and sprayed it all around.

Eww, vomit!!

Phresh Phemale*

noreply@blogger.com (Mal Dongle) — Fri, 01 Oct 2010 03:35:00 +0000

One morning, a mother and daughter come into the pharmacy, and while the daughter stood behind in dark glasses, the mother asked for a specific Betadine product, Betadine Antiseptic Solution 500mL in quantities of at least 4. That's a lot of Betadine!

NB: I couldn't find any reference to the Betadine Antiseptic Solution 500mL on www.betadine.com.au so here it is on the picky pets website as proof it exists: Betadine Antiseptic Solution 500mL (Click me). What a funny poodle in pink glasses...

Continuing on, this product we didn't keep in the pharmacy so I asked if it was ok to use a replacement antiseptic we had in large quantities, Chlorhexidine scrub.

The mother answered, "No, the Surgeon told my daughter to use the Betadine only."

Being intrigued as to why one person would need to use that much solution after surgery, I had to ask what it was for, "Why would you need so much Betadine after surgery?"

The mother replied again, "We just arrived back from Thailand this morning and the surgeon in Thailand told us we need large quantities of Betadine Solution to irrigate my 'daughter's' new vagina."

"WHAT THE F...!!" is what I said in my head.

What I really said while trying my hardest not to say something that might offend or be too loud for other customers to hear was, "Ah, ok. I can order that in through our supplier and have it in by this afternoon."

God damn that was difficult to say without the expression on my face changing! I think they may have noticed my eyes suddenly widen with surprise before I said anything though.

*Further Thoughts:
You probably assume, as I did at the time, that the 'daughter' was originally a 'son,' due to the mentioning of a 'new' vagina and the fact that Thailand is full of lady boys - just take a visit to Patpong in Bangkok! I never asked the specifics at the time, that would have been just as embarrassing for me as it would have been for the daughter, but I have heard of cases where girls were born with short vaginal tracts. It's called Vaginal Hypoplasia and often associated with Androgen Insensitivity Syndrome. Obviously it causes problems, specifically so with intercourse when the length or the vagina is below 6cm. So the daughter may have been a girl with AIS, and the logical reason they chose Thailand to have the surgery is because the surgeons there have plenty of experience producing new vaginas.

How to Phrustrate the Pharmacist

noreply@blogger.com (Mal Dongle) — Tue, 21 Sep 2010 13:56:00 +0000

One afternoon on the weekend, a woman walks into the pharmacy looking for a particular item. "I was just walking past and my friend recommended me a product, so I thought I'd come in and see if you have it," She said.

"Do you know what the product is called?" The assistant inquired.

"I'm not sure, I think it starts with an 'M'," The woman replied.

"Ok, do you know what it's used for?"

"Uh, no, not really. But I'm pretty sure it starts with an 'M'."

"Do you know what the packaging looks like at all?" The assistant really trying to help the woman.

"No. My friend never showed me, she just recommended it to me."

The assistant, obviously not knowing what the product was based on the extremely limited information the customer gave her, repeated the request back to the woman, "So you are looking for a product that starts with 'M', you have no idea what it's used for and you don't know what the packaging looks like?"

"Yes," The woman acknowledged.

The assistant, now a little amused by the request, said, "I'm sorry. I have many products starting with 'M' that are used for all sorts of conditions with varied packaging. You're going to have to ask your friend for a little more information or get her to give you the package, then I'll have no problem helping you."

"Are you sure?" The woman replied with a last ditch effort not to have to come back on another occasion.

"Positive."

Unfortunately for staff in pharmacies, these sort of request aren't uncommon... god save the gene pool!

The Pharmacist's Phault

noreply@blogger.com (Mal Dongle) — Mon, 06 Sep 2010 11:51:00 +0000

Late at night, a scrawny, dirty looking man in his mid 40's comes into the pharmacy and asks for a syringe barrel and needle. Yes, a druggie. I comply with his request and ask him for the $2.50 to cover the cost. He gives me $3 and I return to him 50 cents change.

He then begins the typical druggie spill about how he doesn't do drugs and it's for his diabetes or sickness or something. I've heard it so often I just drift away with my thoughts and nod. He asks for a medi-swab so he can be "clean." We sell them for 50 cents, which is actually extremely expensive, but I don't set the price.

He hands me the remaining 50 cents he has from the last sale complaining that it's too expensive. He asks me to throw another one in for him for free, to which I refuse. "The price is fifty cents. If you have another 50 cents I'll give you another," I said.

I could have given him another one, but I'm also aware that if you give a man like this an inch, he'll take from you a mile.

He refuses to pay any extra and angrily walks off muttering things under his breath, possibly even swearing at me. He then stops closer to the front door and yells at me, "This is serious! I could die!"

I ignore him and let him walk out in an angry mood. But seriously, he could die without having an extra alcohol swab?!?!

Later in the evening, the assistant & I close the front door and are in the process of shutting shop when we hear a tapping on the window. Low and behold there is the druggie at the window attempting to talk to us. Unfortunately for him, we were on the other side of the store and couldn't hear his muffled rants. The assistant went up to the window to help translate. As it turns out he was politely - yes, politely - asking if he left $2.50 on the counter.

Just in case, and to make him happy, I check the counter and find nothing. I relay the message through to the assistant who tells the druggie. He yells through the window, "Give me my $2.50 back, it's my bus money!"

I replied back loudly, "No. You gave me $3, I gave you 50 cents change, then you bought a swab for 50 cents. You spent all of your money and we don't have any more of it!"

He continues to shout at me through the window to give him his money back. I give up and continue shutting the shop and tell the assistant to ignore him, but he still continues. Eventually I give up and yell at him, "Bugger off!"

At this point, he stops his jabbering and says, "This will come back to you!" and leaves. Finally!

And as you probably guessed, I'm still waiting for my karma for the 50 cent alcohol swab. I wonder if he's OD'd and died yet?

Phorget Phlushing

noreply@blogger.com (Mal Dongle) — Mon, 30 Aug 2010 12:43:00 +0000

A guy walks into the pharmacy late one night from a nearby pub and asks the assistant with a drunken lisp, "Where's ya pisser?" (He was asking to go to the toilet for those who don't understand)

"Sorry, we don't have a public toilet," The assistant replied.

We do actually have a toilet, but only for staff. We don't want to allow the public access to our toilet at the risk they may shoot up, which could be a common occurrence with the clientele we quite often serve.

I butted in to help out the assistant, "There's a public toilet 50 metres up the street. Go there."

"Oh, alright," the drunken man said and he left the store.

We could still see him at our front door, then we realised he was pissing on it!

The assistant yelled at the man to fuck off, but when someone's started to urinate, you know how hard it is to stop, so I weighed all my options before I took any action. Do I, a) yell abuse at him to stop; b) tackle him to the ground and risk getting pissed on; c) call the cops who would have no chance of catching him?

I know you wanted me to pick 'b)' and get pissed on, but I chose a combination of 'a)' and 'c).' What would you have done? There's not much one can do.

So I called the cops and left my details and a description of the offender. The drunk, pissing man finished his business and took off. I never saw him again, or the cops for that matter.

Disgusting prick!