Highlights From Recent Pill Counting Action.

I was excited when I first heard of the 15 minute prescription filling guarantee, as the prospect of seeing outer space has always excited me. Visions of visiting distant galaxies and alien civilizations danced in my brain. I thought about the incredible learning experience I was about to undergo as I boldly went where before no man had gone.

What do you pack for time travel?

As some of you may be aware, Einstein's theory of relativity predicts that altering time is indeed possible. That if one were traveling faster than the speed of light, because that speed remains constant in your perception, other things must change in order to keep the equation of the universe balanced. One of those things is time. I wondered when the maintenance people would show up to fit our pharmacy with the powerful rockets that would enable us to calmly fill prescriptions, taking all the necessary and prudent precautions to make sure it is done right, while altering the timespace continuum to make it appear to you it was never done in more than a quarter of an hour. No matter how many people were in front of you. No matter how many times the phone would ring with someone demanding our immediate attention. No matter the number of times the old lady would come to within 5 feet of me while evaluating your drug interaction report to ask me if the Swiffer could be used on a hardwood floor. Once maintenance installed the rockets, none of this would matter.

Then I remembered that Einstein's plan actually made it possible to travel to the future, meaning 15 minutes of your time on the rocket ship would translate to maybe an hour in the rest of the universe. This would make the prescription filling process even slower, and I realized all that the 15 minute guarantee really meant is that you got a five-dollar gift card if you bitched that I took too long. Then I realized the five dollars wasn't my money and never thought of the 15 minute guarantee again.

Until today, when I finally noticed all the 15 minute guarantee signs had been quietly taken down. The store manager said this had been done long ago and that a 15 minute "pledge" was soon to come. A pledge is like a guarantee except you don't get paid. Which means I care even less about it. I moved on to matters more important.

I heard my Supertech ask a customer what their phone number was. "Yes" was the reply. It was gonna be a highlights kinda day.

The next customer asked me if I got to go home soon. It was 9:30 in the morning. Yup. Some days have highlights written all over them.

I got a report that the Pharmacy Manager was recording video of the store's management team not working hard enough to suit her using her cell phone. I wondered if maybe she had invented some sort of reverse speed of light backwards time thruster that gave her enough minutes to do this type of thing. Because I've got more than enough shit to worry about in the happy pill room without going around getting all Dick Tracy on the people up front. I was snapped out of this train of thought by the customer waving a bottle in front of my face asking if she could take this if she were pregnant. The bottle contained prenatal vitamins.

Shortly thereafter a man asked if he could use a thermometer to take his temperature and then put it back on the shelf and another person came to the counter with a parrot on their shoulder and bird shit all over their shirt. He asked if he could borrow the phone and I handed it to him. I asked what number he needed to dial and he said he didn't know in a tone of voice that indicated I should. This kind of thing doesn't even phase me anymore. Twenty years in the profession has made me numb to a man covered in birdshit who expects me to read his mind. Pharmacy students make of that what you will.

A man not covered in fecal material tried to talk me into giving him a Vicodin refill early by saying, "I gotta be honest, I just like taking it." Part of me appreciated this so much he almost got it.

The rest of the day flew by and towards the end I finally got a chance to look at the faxes that had been zapped from the corporate mothership that morning. Among them was one that contained only two things, my name, and a "0%" next to it. I really sucked at something. Perhaps this is the latest craze among the MBA's, motivating your people by making sure they have no idea how you are evaluating them. Or maybe the rest of the fax is on that rocket ship, gleefully whizzing by supernovas and giant planets at twice that magical speed of light, to be delivered sometime in the distant future. Out in space where I longed to be.

Perhaps if I read the work of Einstein in more depth, it will contain my answer. I plan on starting right now.