After Today, Whatever I Accomplish In My Life, For Good Or Ill, Will Be Because Of One Man And One Man Only

The day started with my keystone tech calling in sick. Keystone techs by definition don't call in sick until they are ready to die, but I had no time for sympathy. The replacement cashier sent by the overlords of corpo-pharmacy to replace 20 years of pharmacy experience started the shift with these words:

"How do you run this cash register? It's different from the ones up front."

I hoped my keystone tech wasn't too sick, mainly because the last thing I needed was for her to come in here and add another goddamn prescription to my misery. It was a pill blizzard of the worst sort my friends. I triaged and triaged and triaged again and if you had a kid screaming because he felt like someone was driving an icepick through his eardrum and inching it into his brain you were still looking at about a 40 minute wait. Partly because I was simultaneously performing the duties of pharmacist and corporate cash-register trainer. Partly because of calls like this one:

"IS THIS THE PHARMACIST???" The customer had specifically asked to talk to the pharmacist. He had waited probably a good 5 minutes for the chance.

"Yes it is, may I help you?"

"DO YOU HAVE A DRIVE THROUGH?"

I should make clear here that the customer did previously talk to a human that they decided wasn't qualified to handle this question.

"No we don't sir""

"THE PHONE BOOK SAYS YOU HAVE A DRIVE THROUGH"

"Well I can't speak for what's in the phone book, but I'm here now, and I can tell you there is no drive through in this building"

"HOW AM I SUPPOSED TO GET MY PRESCRIPTION FILLED?"

He went back on hold. I just now remembered I never talked to him again. I wonder if he's still waiting for me to pick up the line.

I wonder if he wasn't the man who came in about an hour later and said he was lost. Not that he didn't know what part of town he was in, but that he couldn't figure out how to get out of the store. It was obviously starting to frustrate him. I told my wonder-boy cashier to stop staring at the check he couldn't get the cash register to accept and get the old coot out the door. He later reported to me the man asked if he could walk him to his car. Which he then drove away.

I was pulled from the sea of prescriptions again for this question:

"How often do I take this? I don't like reading all these labels and stuff"

That wasn't even close to the stupidest question of the day.

After about 7 hours of this, of me and the cashier boy and 5 phone lines, a fax machine, and a constant angry lynch mob breathing down my neck, I could feel a wheel start to wobble on the finely tuned pharmacy machine that is me. I'm no stranger to hot lynch mob breath in that sensitive spot under your ear, but this was different. I've mentioned before there are times when I can actually feel blood pouring out from my wrists. I know that's not a good thing. Mr. Drugmonkey was getting ready to crack.

Then I heard it.

And I’m proud to be an American,
where at least I know I’m free.
And I won't forget the men who died,
who gave that right to me.

And I gladly stand up,
next to you and defend her still today.
‘ Cause there ain’t no doubt I love this land,
God bless the USA.

The absolute worst part of the worst song ever recorded wafted through the chaos of the pill room and into my head. I hate how he says he won't forget the men who died and the implication that any women killed in the service of the American empire he loves so much aren't worth the effort it would take to remember them.

And I really hate that song. For so many reasons. I could write a book about why I hate that song.

So you know what I did? I bucked it up. You wanna know why? Because when I finally snap, I will at least have the pride of knowing that it wasn't some no talent, sap-sucking, tone deaf, twit hacking up simple-minded jingoistic bullshit for the Reader's Digest crowd that pushed me over the edge. When I lose it, there's gonna be a quality soundtrack in the background.

I decided that if a soulful jazz number came over the store's radio system, I could finally let go. It never did, and all the prescriptions eventually got out the door.

Lee Greenwood saved my life.