How much is Enough?

Mama Bear, one of my pharmacists, is a veteran of the field. The date on the license on the wall is 1970-something, and she's worked every year of the time since. For patient counseling or dosage questions? Mama Bear is my go-to. Don't know something about an OTC? Let me get her, she's been around since it was introduced. She can probably sing you the original jingle too.

Depending on the day.

See, of all the skills for a pharmacist to *not* have, Mama Bear cannot handle stress. As in at all. Today was no exception; working a 12 in a pharmacy both understaffed and overrun, she was getting pulled in 4 directions at once. I understand that, and I do whatever I can to take the burden off of her on days like this one. But I'm the Tech; she's the Pharmacist--- some things, she has to do. There's no two ways about it, and we're both supposed to understand it.

So I find it... insulting, to say nothing of unnecessary (and honestly, a little childish), when I pull a finished prescription from the refrigerator, take it Mama Bear in her designated "Rx Checker" position, put the bag and box on the counter next to her, and back up a step to wait for her to double check that the name on the box and the bag match (per corporate C.O.As.W.Y.C.G.D* rules), to hear "WHADDAYA WANT?!?!?"

She slams her fist on the counter, throws things, snaps at whatever tech she's next to, blames that tech for every problem in her hands no matter whose name is on it, and just generally takes her bad mood out on the nearest target that's lower than her on the Pharmacy Totem Pole. And never an apology for it. The unprofessional way she treats us just doesn't seem to register when she's in that mood.

The bigger issue, though, is her disregard for the manager/PiC trying to calm her down or rein her in. As a former manager, it seems like Mama Bear's default setting is "I have to do all of this myself, goddamnit. Don't make it any harder on me," and that gets damn hard to work with when she's the only option for Pharmacist-only duties.

I'm generally a pretty patient person, but after personally being yelled at twice today for things that were not my doing or otherwise out of my hands, and watching her hit the other techs with both barrels over stupid things she had to take care of (like the doctor calling in that was left on hold for almost 10 minutes), I'd made up my mind to say something when she did it again. I'm not a fan of workplace confrontation, and I'll be damned if I know what I would have said, but I can only hope it wouldn't have involved turning the air blue in front of a customer, whether Mama Bear had it coming or not.

So, I find myself stuck between a rock and a hard place now. When she comes back on Thursday, she's probably going to be just as grumpy as ever, and as usual, taking it out on the techs. A few of the techs besides me are sick and fucking tired of this crap too, but for whatever reason won't speak up. It's far less confrontational on their parts to talk to HR and have the (non pharmacy manger) talk to Mama Bear for them. But, I don't want to see one of the best pharmacists we have reported to the corporate "Pharmacists" (in name only) for her admittedly lousy behavior.

Think it's too late to teach an old dog a new trick? And how do I bring it up? Take her aside quietly after our shifts are over? Wait until she hits me with both barrels again and fire back (which has worked in the past)? Or should I get management into it, even though Mama Bear brushes her off like a pesky fly and goes right back to growling and snarling at the few things we have to ask her to do?

She's retiring in a couple of years, but in the mean time, she's killing herself and making the job harder for *all* of us, and uncomfortable for the customers who end up standing at a register listening to her bitch while they're waiting to be rung up for the insulin that's in her hand while she's complaining about having to double check it in the first place. I might be low on the Totem Pole here, but without a sold base, the whole damn thing falls down. She's chipping away at the bottom of it, daily, and I don't know how much longer it's going to stand. :(

*Cover Our Asses While You Can Go Die, or the guiding star for any corporation making decisions, rules, and policies. Laissez Faire at it's finest, my friends.

A Great Man?

A few days ago, I put a face to a name I've known well since I started this job. See, normally, I'm great with faces. New customer comes in to drop off three emergency room meds and comes back at their pick up time, I'll remember that they're getting a Pred Pak, a Z-Pak and Cheratussin AC with directions for the Mucinex D that's behind the counter, so I hope to Dog they have their State ID... but I won't remember the name to save my Inherited from the German Side of the Family Arsch unless it's also the name of a close family member or otherwise enters into conversation.

But the face? See them once, and I've got it.

So it's odd for me to hear a name, like Mary or Clark Duncan and not know a face to go with it. In this case, though, two names went with one face, because Mr. Duncan picked up several times a week for Mary or Clark Duncan like clockwork.

I was surprised to say the least when two women, one clearly in her 70s or older and one somewhere in the middle of life, came in and asked for Mary Duncan's medicines. After I got through the basics, I asked if Clark was all right.

The younger woman burst into tears. The older one said simply, "Yes, now. He's passed on."

Well fuck. Stepped in that one barefoot!

By the end of the transaction I of course apologized and offered sympathies on behalf of the pharmacy, and set his profile to 'deceased' which stops all automatic phone calls and such to the phone number on file. Last thing a widow needs to hear is "Mr. Duncan has two days to pick up his medication before it's returned to stock."

But the thing that kicked me in the gut was that I didn't have the heart to tell these women, the younger one especially who went on and on about how wonderful "Dad" was... that to us, "Dad" was by and large a jerk. He was a tosser, and I don't mean that in the British sense of the word. Rather that he had a habit of taking whatever was in his hand and tossing it onto the counter-- and often right across it onto the floor at my feet. Usually, it was a piece of scratch paper with a name and some prescription numbers on it flipped in my general direction as he barked the word "Tomorrow" and walked away without a moment of eye contact or bothering with manners or courtesy. He was just generally impatient, and explaining things like Prior Auths was difficult to say the least. He didn't want to stand still and listen to anyone, just throw paper at us and walk away.

So, what makes someone a "wonderful man"? Because, to be honest, my opinion of him wouldn't change much from knowing if he was a deacon at church or helped with a food bank or any of the rest of the things they usually put in an obituary. The only time I remember him *ever* being more than stony and in a rush was when I wished him "a nice Christmas". He actually stopped and said thank you to that. I'd been waiting on him at least weekly for over a year by that point, and didn't know until then that his eyes were brown, because he'd never looked at me before.

This makes me wonder what else I don't know about this former customer of ours that made others mourn him so openly. And then I wonder if he'd care if anyone missed him or wished him well in whatever lies beyond the flat line when he never bothered to learn our names or look us in the faces, even though we all knew him.

Knowing how much most of my customers appreciate my ability to recognize them as individuals with names and frequent prescriptions and families and lives, it's a little bizarre to me to see someone so unresponsive to those measures called "a wonderful man".

Was he? I couldn't tell.

Not sure how I feel about this one.

Pity? Disgust? Mockery? It's one of those ethical gray areas for me.

Today, we waited on the Fishy family. Mrs. Fishy is usually very nice, organized, and would be pleasant to talk to... if it weren't for the stench. She's not our Cat Pee Lady (and every store has at least one, I know). If it were just Cat Pee, I could take it. Nor do I know how her medical conditions may affect her ability to take care of herself. I'm also unsure of her husband's and mother's abilities to address matters of personal hygiene. But what I do know is that the aroma wafting off of these people is entirely unlike anything I've ever smelled from a human body living or dead.

Know that street person we've all seen in some huge city with an almost visible cloud of urine and body odor seeping into the sidewalk on which the unfortunate person sits, the stains of the past 3 month's dumpster-diving adventures adorning an Army surplus coat like morbid medals of horror?

That bum would notice this couple coming from 15' away and pack up and leave before they arrive.

I've finally pinpointed the best comparison to their particular eau de "soap is available in aisle 14, and for the love of God it's on special this week": nam bplah, aka: Thai Fish Sauce, which consists of anchovies or sardines fermented in salt water in the sun for months at a time, then strained, bottled, and sold to the unsuspecting Western public as something yummy for making Curried Chicken and Stir-fried Noodles (until you take a whiff of it and perform olfactory electrolysis on your nose hair).

And it *lingers*. Ten minutes after they'd left the counter today, another customer commented on how horrible the pharmacy smelled and asked if we'd spilled some kind of chemical. I had to tell her no, sorry, it was related to a previous transaction but it should clear out soon. On three separate occasions, I've had to turn away from these people and reach for a HIPPA box, garbage can, or in one case an open prescription drawer, in case the gagging from the odor turned into a public technicolor yawn.

That, of course, makes waiting on this family difficult at the best of times, but topping it is the familial difficulty with cleaning their clothes, washing their hair, or removing built up, caked on body soil from their skin... and wearing sleeveless, strapless, revealing clothing in public.

The kicker? The wife also sports a very impressive growth of beard, I'm assuming as part of some kind of medical condition. Half of the freshmen boys at Local High School are probably jealous... or would be if they stuck around long enough to see it.

I realize, reading through this, that someone has probably chuckled, and more than a few in the medical field are nodding with unpleasant memories, but what made me really start to think about our collective attitude toward this particular family-- and the difficult patients of their type across the board-- was what I saw from another set of customers today. The first is a common reaction that pharmacy staff have laughed about on more than one occasion:

Child sees and smells The Fishys.
Child looks at parent before looking back at The Fishys.
Child asks to be allowed to get something off the grocery list/go play in the toy aisle, go to the bathroom, or just flat out says "Mommy? Why does that lady smell so bad?" or "I thought you said only Men grow beards Dad?"

Children, the prevailing attitude seems to be, can be excused for those types of comments because they, unlike adults, don't always know to bite their tongue for the sake of preserving someone else's feelings or avoiding insult.

But: while The Fishys were talking to their favorite (strong stomached) technician after their transaction was completed today, another customer walked by taking pictures of them on her cell phone. This girl could have been 15, she could have been 25; it was hard to tell. But the behavior reminded me of what people do at a county fair, walking through the barns and realizing that "Those rabbits over there are doing it" or "Hey, that horse has wood!"

What bothers me, I think, is that once I stopped to think about it, The Fishys are treated by everyone I see interact with them in the store like some kind of circus side show act. Google search "The Bearded Lady" and what pops up? Dozens of circus "freak" and side show references. Is that necessary? Is it fair? Is it right?

Part of me says "Of course not. It's degrading and shouldn't be tolerated," just like spitting on customer service workers shouldn't be allowed either.

But then there's the other part of me, who has waited on this woman with a cheerful smile on my face for over a year b/c it's far easier to breathe through my mouth when they're at the counter, that thinks "They have to freakin' know! My god, how could they not?" Small children do not run away gagging from just *anybody* in the grocery store. Teenagers don't usually giggle and whip out their camera phones saying "Holy shit, dude, we need to send this to Tyler!" and "Fuck, man, the smell!" when a regular mom with a full shopping cart rolls by.

Someone somewhere along the way has had to make Mr. and Mrs. Fishy aware that their lack of hygiene has reached an unbearable level for the vast majority of the public. And yet... they do nothing about it. Do they enjoy the notoriety of it? Or do they simply not care that, as nice and kind and helpful as everyone in the store tries to be, they are almost without exception derided and pitied behind their backs after every shopping trip? These kinds of thoughts come from the part of me that would say something about their lack of care for themselves (and the rest of the world around them) if preserving feelings and avoiding insult wasn't often the only way to keep a public service job. Which leads me to think that their doctors probably can't say anything and expect to keep them as patients/not be sued. Their family members who may have tried and probably care might even find it too difficult to bring up.

But is that really something that we, even as awfully as we're treated in the course of a day, should joke about? Or is it part of the fodder for the gallows humor that lets Pharmacist Charming and Mama Bear get back out of bed the next morning and roll into a place they really can't stand to face another day?