Well Shit

So I haven't posted in close to a month, but I swear I have a decent reason. Er... Reasons. Multiple reasons.

At the beginning of the month, I started looking into schools with a pharmacy technician program so that I could learn all I could stuff into my little brain and take the national exam. I found a school that I liked. It was nice, small, with a very small class size and a high graduation and job placement statistic. The only real problem with this was it ended up being too perfect. The classes ran from 8:30am-1pm. I work from 10am-4pm. That doesn't end up working out very well, honestly.

I then took the entrance quizzy thing just for shits and grins because the lady in admissions said it would be nice just in case I could work out my work schedule. I took it, and apparently, I had a high enough score because she jokingly asked if I was sure I didn't want to be in her LPN class instead.

She sent me home with information, and all that jazz for me to look through before I made a decision. Due to a lot of typos in the program catalog she had given me, I ended up on the page for the nursing program instead of the pharmacy technician. I looked it over, discovered it had a night class, and BAM! I'm suddenly looking into nursing instead of pharm tech.

So that was about three weeks ago. I start classes next week. You can see how attempting to prepare for school in three weeks can be a bit time consuming with the financial aid nonsense.

I wish that was all, but at the beginning of this week, my car breaks down. I'm due to start classes next week, I have all of my start up costs in the bank, and my car breaks down. I was so pissed. I brought it into the shop, and called the school to tell them I may have to wait until January because the money I had saved for school is suddenly being thrown into my car instead.

Well, this school is awesome. I was told not to worry about it, they'd find someone who could carpool with me until I get my car fixed, and they can work with me on the start up costs (most of which are for a supplemental anatomy and physiology class). That helped a lot, but between that and not having all of my paperwork completed, I was on the verge of a very large panic attack.

A little background about my car. I got this car last December when my first car developed a case of rust so bad that it couldn't be repaired. I still owe close to four thousand dollars on this thing, so you can see where my panic mode kicked in. I was more worried about suddenly being without a car, but still having loan payments than anything else.

But anyway! Car's fixed, I'm still starting school, and I will hopefully be back to my regular weekly rants next Friday!

Those Little Copay Cards

I really don't like them very much. Purely because a customer will bring it in after their doctor has handed it to them due to lack of insurance, and then we learn that there's a load of super fine print.

Take, for instance, the $4 copay card for Lipitor. Now, Lipitor is fucking expensive. As in, thirty tablets costs you over $100 kind of expensive, so a card that drops the copay to only $4 is practically a godsend for patients whose doctors insist they need Lipitor and not something infinitely less expensive like Simvastatin or any blood pressure medications that fall under the same therapeutic class.

That is, until someone like me attempts to run the damn thing. We then sit there and scratch our heads in confusion at a price of $60 something. That is definitely not $4, so we go to the pamphlet that comes with the card. We read, and read, and read until we finally come across this lovely bit. Let me see if I can't copy/paste this piece from the website.

"To qualify for this offer, your out-of-pocket expense must be greater than $4 per prescription. If your out-of-pocket expenses for a 1-month supply (30 tablets) are $54 or less, you will pay $4 for a 1-month supply. If your out-of-pocket expenses for a 1-month supply (30 tablets) exceed $54, you qualify for up to $50 in savings for a 1-month supply. In either case, you can only qualify for up to $600 of savings per calendar year. After maximum of $600, you will pay usual monthly out-of-pocket costs."

 Note that this isn't written on the card. It says in very large letters "$4 Co-pay Card," but not that your insurance has to pay for a certain amount before they'll drop the copay to $4. It would be nice if customers who are stuck with this were told in advance, but I've noticed a fun trend in doctors just handing out the cards and not going over them with their patients. Despite, you know, how helpful that would be to themselves as well as us because they then have to listen to their customers bitch to them about how expensive the drug they put them on is.

I just feel myself lucky that the man we were working with yesterday was very nice and understanding, if not very (understandably) frustrated.

That Would Make Us Happy, But...

So. It's been about a month since we last saw Miss Switch, and she finally called us up yesterday. I pick up the phone, as I tend to do despite my survival instincts screaming against it, and cringe when she gives me her name. Pharmacy Manager actually looked at me funny because I full-body cringed upon hearing her name.

She wants one of her medications refilled; fine, whatever the fuck will get you out of my eardrums faster. She wants it filled as a ninety day supply instead of thirty because her doctor has decided that it won't kill her; again whatever shuts you up faster. We hang up, I got to poke through her profile a little and face palm.

Her doctor hadn't written the prescription as a ninety day supply. Meaning that even though it still had six refills left on it, we can only fill it for thirty day supplies by law. She came in before we could call her, but Pharmacy Manager, being a much nicer person than myself, called and left a message for her doctor asking that a new script be written for ninety days.

Well she gets there before the doctor called back.

And she threw a butt-hurt bitch-fit to end all.

"What do you mean, I can't fill it for ninety days?! I have six refills on it, don't I?!"

"Yes, ma'am, but because the doctor didn't give us permission to fill for ninety days, we can only dispense in thirty day supplies. That's the law."

"Well if I have six refills left on it, I should be able to get however much I want at one time!!!"

"That's not how that works, ma'am."

"FINE! Call me when the doctor calls back!"

Pharmacy Manager just looks at me and says, "She's a treat, isn't she? I kinda hope we get permission to fill it for ninety days. Not seeing her for three months would be nice."

Well That's Awkward

So one thing they never tell you when you take on a job in the pharmacy: you will see people you know/have known.

It's really not that difficult to imagine, really. People need medications, and that's what you're there to give them with relatively few questions asked if possible. There is, however, going to be a few awkward moments when people you know need to get embarrassing medications. They then know that you know what they're getting.

Take for instance, suppositories. Necessary medications sometimes, but pretty fucking embarrassing when you know the person dispensing them to you personally. I can imagine it would be even more embarrassing if, say... You and your friends were complete and total assholes to the one giving you your prescription ages ago.

Now just take that image, and imagine my absolute glee when I saw the name on the prescription sent to us along side the medication you were receiving. Also imagine my immense amusement as you shift uncomfortably while I ask if you have any questions at all for the pharmacist on your prescription. While you attempt to make smalltalk to diffuse your discomfort, I am trying my damnedest to keep as straight a face as I possibly could, because cackling maniacally is really frowned upon for the most part when dealing with a customer.

Moral of the story? Don't be a dick. When you grow up, the kid you were a dick to is likely going to have access to your most personal of personals. Even if they don't tell anyone because of those foolish things called privacy laws, they'll know, and you'll know they know.

And that will drive you nuts, won't it?

Getting Ready for the Storm

Yeah, okay. So we're getting a very large storm. You would think that all of the winter experience the people in the fabulous state of Maine have with such things during the winter, that they would have at least the essentials stored away already.

Apparently, I'm an idiot for thinking such things. Working in a retail pharmacy that is located in a grocery store, I got to watch people rushing around for things like flashlights and batteries. Really? Don't you already have, I don't know... Five or six fracking flashlights from when you were doing your running around like a chicken fresh from the gallows this past winter?

Getting your medications squared away, I can understand. I will never fault someone for planning for something like that. If you get trapped in your house with only one or two days' supply of whatever meds your on, that would suck. It wasn't the business of the pharmacy this past week that bothered me.

What did bother me was what I saw people buying. These are the same exact things I'll see people buying in bulk when a snow storm hits come December:

• Milk
• Ice cream
• Frozen pizza
• Other various frozen foods/meals

Really? I mean... Really?! In what realm of thought is buying refrigerated or frozen items just before potentially losing your power a smart idea? It isn't even like in winter where it's cold enough to just shove whatever it is outside to keep it cold! This is a tropical fucking storm we have coming toward us, people! Buy your flashlights, buy your water, toilet paper, bread, peanut butter, granola bars, and whatever the fuck else you can that doesn't require refrigeration or cooking! I know for a fact that a lot of you aren't equipped with camping supplies like Coleman stoves, nor do you have fireplaces, so I have no idea how you plan to cook these things.

I just... Can't for one second fathom what could be going through the minds of the people buying some of the most useless items during a time like this. It makes me reevaluate my status on never having children purely so that the overall IQ of the population can stay at a reasonable level.

Because not everything is doom and gloom

Yesterday was actually a relative nice day. I had to skip working on Monday because of a funeral, so coming in to a nice day on Tuesday was fantastic. The sudden death of a coworker and friend last week is what has kept me from really feeling like posting snarky comments to the world.

Back to the subject at hand... Tuesday was a good day, and it was a good day for someone so incredibly small; something that really shouldn't be as out of the ordinary as it actually is: Someone paid me a very nice compliment.

That it. That's all it took to make my day yesterday. I hadn't done anything extraordinary myself; I had just  processed the woman's order as I would any other, and it wasn't even one of those vital, life-saving type things. It was just the foul liquid one has to drink before a colonoscopy (and could someone please confirm that this is a word? Blogspot's spell check apparently doesn't think so). We had a few prescriptions that were waiting ahead of her, but they weren't difficult, and slapping a label on a giant jug that I don't have to do anything with certainly isn't the most trying of tasks.

She was surprised it was ready right when she was done her shopping. Honestly, I wish more people would say that they thought it would take longer, because I usually have people standing at my counter staring at me like morons while I suddenly find the colors of their medications fascinating and thus slow down to admire them a little.

Once I had rung her in, she was happy to note her insurance paid a little on the prescription despite a high deductible, and I asked if she had any questions. Waffling back and forth a little on how it works, I called over the pharmacist, wished her a good day, and went back behind my smoked glass divider to continue with my work.

As she was leaving, she thanked the pharmacist and said something that just made me smile, "And your assistant was wonderful!"

She said something else about telling people about us, but I was a bit too busy smiling at that point. I would almost say it's a sad state of affairs when something so simple as a compliment is so out of place that it surprises me, but that's how it works today. I'm there to work, and if I don't do it within the insane confines of "customer standard time," then they have every right to be angry and berate me or anyone else standing behind the counter.

But either way, it was nice and made the rest of my day much, much better.

Doctors

A little message for my doctor friends, because in your realm of anatomy and other such nonsense, you seem to have forgotten the very simple things we need from you. They're very simple things, really. So simple, that I am forced to facepalm every time we have to call you because you've forgotten one of these rather vital things.

When you leave messages on our telephony system, we need:

• The name of the patient, preferably with spelling. This is especially nice when the name is unusual in any way.
• The date of birth for the patient.
• The medication. You wouldn't think this would be something that could easily be forgotten, but it's happened.
• The strength of the medication. If you merely say "levothyroxine," I will cry. In our store alone, we have at least ten different strengths. With Vicodin, we will always assume you mean the 5/500 strength, because that is the most common.
• THE DIRECTIONS. If we don't get the directions, how are we supposed to know that ninety tablets are only lasting thirty days?
• The number of tablets/capsules/pills we're giving the patient. You can also just tell us the directions and the days' supply you/the patient wants. We're smart, we can do math. I promise, but we do need at least the number of days you want filled.

Simple, yes? You would think so. It gets even more fun when we enter the world of narcotics. There's a longer list of requirements that sometimes just don't get completed all the way, leading to annoyance for us, irritation for you when we keep calling you, and frustration for the customer who is trying to either fill their bouncing child's Ritalin, or the morphine they need to function on a basic human level.

• Name of patient. This is a common theme.
• The date of the prescription. This is ESSENTIAL. It is also important to have a complete date. 6/28/1 will not cut it. You're missing a one. That missing number could imply it was written a month ago, or a year and a month ago.
• Medication and strength.
• Instructions.
• Diagnosis code. MANY insurance companies will not accept ADD and ADHD medication without one.
• Your DEA number. We have to have that for a Schedule II narcotic. It's required at least by the law of our state.
• A hand-written signature.

I really wish it was as simple as the customer handing us the script, me checking to make sure we have it in stock, then filling it. It isn't.
Another issue I have: When we call you, please don't take three days to call us back. I realize you are busy, however... Having one of your medical assistants calling us is not a particularly difficult thing to ask for, is it? Your patient is the one most inconvenienced by this, not us, so please just call us back.

Last, but not least... When I tell your patient that there is a manufacturer back order on the medication you've prescribed them, and that it won't be in stock again until the end of the month, don't turn around and inform them that it sounds absurd. It then sends the customer back to me with the impression that I'm lying to them just to be an ass. When I say there's a back order and that I cannot get it in for almost a month, it means that there is no possible way for us to order that product, and get it in before the date the website gives me.

I was tempted to give that doctor a call and tell him that he could fill it if he was so convinced I was spouting bullshit.