Work: Part 1. The Pharmacy

Once again, I have a serious amount of important work due tomorrow and so, once again, I find myself very inspired to blog.

I started work a few weeks ago at the Camden news agency. This has been wonderful for 3 reasons.

1. After living the last 20 years following a carefully designed graph which allowed me to ration out any birthday money I received with the steadily declining generosity of my parents, I suddenly find myself with more moolah than I know what to do with.
   
   
2. It has made me suddenly so determined to have a career at some point. Just a few months ago my life fallback plan was always, 'I'll just be a check out chick'. After having spent less than a month as a checkout chick I can safety say that this is (at least for me) no fall back plan at all. Unless of course, my life plan is to commit suicide at 35
   
   
3. I get to interact with some of the best and worst of Camden society from whom of which I have learnt many a life lesson. It's been great.

My job is of two parts.

Part 1: Working the register at the pharmacy

Part 2: Running the book store

Thankfully my shifts often alternate, because going from one to the other is a really nice breath of fresh air. Especially after working at the pharmacy. 

Stories of the Pharmacy

Life Lesson #1:

A lot of smelly people come by a pharmacy.

Not just smelly people.

Like. Stenchy people.

People who have decided that they are just so, so sick that they cannot shower or wear any deodorant before they come to get their medication. In fact, they can't even change the clothes which they've been sleeping in, vomiting in and just generally mooching about for around 2 weeks in. It is not uncommon for the smell to hang about for up to 15 minutes after these people have left. I honestly don't understand their mindset. It's like they're thinking It's okay, it's a pharmacy. They're used to sick people, They won't judge me.

On that note I would like to introduce

Life Lesson #2:

People think that because I work at a pharmacy, I won't, no, can't, judge you.

WRONG. You DO get judged. I AM JUDGING YOU. RIGHT NOW. STOP STINKING SO BAD. THANK YOU.

Also, next time you come in to pick up your prescription. PLEASE LEAVE YOUR FERRET IN THE CAR. It is NOT okay to wear it around your neck like a scarf then just laugh as it squirms and tries to escape and SHRED YOUR FACE OFF.

You and your 6 red headed, feral children are being judged.

If you decide not to wear shoes. Or a shirt. Or pants. You will be judged accordingly.

There. Now you are ALL aware.

If however, we are going through your prescriptions together, and I'm reading them aloud to make sure I've got them all, and I accidentally say really loudly and insensitively 'and this cream for vaginal warts?' you are well within your rights to shoot me a death glare and judge me. Oh. Judge away kind lady and thank you for not reporting me to my superior.

Again. I'm very, very sorry.

You are also well within your right to judge me when you're trying to buy condoms and I go bright red and drop them, and then drop all the change on the ground. Yup. I'd expect nothing less.

Life Lesson #3:

Some people just suck/pharmacies have too many 'health/diabetes/asthma/rewards' cards. They are confusing.

So this woman came up and was like.

Woman: I want this medication...OH! And I brought my health card

Me: Uh...oh...um...okay

I took the card from her and took it to the pharmacist on duty, Darren.

Me: Darren, what do I do with this card?

Darren: Well Elyse -

Woman: YOU JUST WRITE DOWN THE NUMBER AND GIVE IT BACK TO ME

Darren: Well, no, you need to give it to me and then I'll...

Woman: No you don't

Darren: um. Yes...I need to put.

Woman: THEN JUST GIVE ME BACK THE CARD, THE SCRIPT, EVERYTHING. I'll take my business ELSEWHERE.

Darren: OKAY. DEAL.

I handed the lady back her card, she snatches it out of my hand and storms off. Darren and I look at each other in utter bewilderment.

There is a long pause and then Darren shakes his head

Darren: The crazies are out in force today... oh well. At least we get paid by the hour.

Stuck on a Train When You Need to go to the Bathroom

I call this piece, 'Stuck on a Train When You Need to go to the Bathroom' because right at this moment as I'm writing it, I'm stuck on a train, and I need to use a bathroom. We've been stuck here on this train for over an hour. Just sitting here casually. Actually, now that I'm looking at the time I would say it's been more like 2 hours.

'Mechanical failures' they call it. I think it's more like some 'human failure'. Trains don't just break down out of the blue. Some inspector somewhere along the line just didn't do his job, missed something important or did something wrong. There is human error involved SOMEWHERE along the line! STOP TRYING TO AVOID THE BLAME.

My mp3 player has run out of battery during my wait here. That's a REAL mechanical failure for you. I don't mind if I miss class so much. But when I have to miss class and can't listen to the music I want to... Someone is going to get shot.

OH WAIT! They're making an announcement!

They've had to take the front 4 carriages of the train off and are going to move them. Then, we're going to have to wait until they get another driver to move us. I think?! Oh city rail. You've done it again.

Anyway.

I guess when you're stuck in a carriage like this you begin to appreciate all the people around you a little bit more. There are 11 other people in here with me. This may be a bit of a stretch but, I'm going to say that we've become like family during this time.

Oh, don't get me wrong. We haven't even spoken to one another. But we've all shared the roll of the eyes as the train first stopped, the frustrated clench of eyebrows as time ticked on, the nervous chuckle as our carriage rolled back and forth, hitting the two carriages on either side of us and now, finally, the long, loud expulsion of air that comes from just being bored and frustrated.

So there's a guy about my age sitting at the front of the carriage. He looks a bit like Cameron Locke from high school but I don't think he's autistic. Maybe he is? He seems very fidgety. He keeps looking at me as if I'm supposed to know. 'What?' I want to ask him. 'What am I supposed to know? You think I can fix this? I'm sorry. I can't. Stop scratching your head, stop twisting your body around. Stop looking at me and just find a comfortable spot against the window like the rest of us have. I'm sorry your ipod has run out of battery too. I know. 'Mechanical failure'.

Why, why did I drink two bottles of water before getting on this train. WHY!?

There is a guard walking around now with water. I can hear him saying

'Who can I give the water to?'

It's just like the tap dripping scenario. They're doing this deliberately I know it. All anyone is saying around here is 'water, water, gushing, peeing...'

Someone else just said something and then the guard replied

'Nah, because then that becomes discrimination'

This whole situation is now just ridiculous. I wonder what the other guy's suggestion was. Only give the water to old people? Only to black people? I can't imagine that just giving the bottles of water to thirsty people would be a discrimination issue? Why are they even bothering with water? We all walk around in a constant state of dehydration anyway. I'd rather them provide us with... y'know...a portaloo or something. Or like, just work out how to fix the bloody train. Yup. That would be much better than worrying about who gets the water.

God I need to use a bathroom

Needless to say, I will not be making it to my douchebag rampant class today