Thursday, December 14, 2006


There, I said it. Every single dang time I go into that store they screw me over. Every time. Bea, back me up on this (I'm usually on the phone with her while this happens so that she can bare witness, at least audiorally, to these events).
From hollering down the aisle, "Ma'am are you waiting for the diaphragm?" to the seventy year-old woman telling me that I had to figure out a way to pay for the $130 prescription for my child or else I was a bad mother, I've had enough. Or maybe the time that I sat at the pick up window for over ten minutes while the window was open and was blatantly ignored by the seventeen year-olds who work at night. I even rang the little "someone will be right with you" bell a lot.
YOU HEAR ME MR. CVS? We're through!!
We've gone through this so many times. CVS is the Ike to my Tina. "Mame," you say, "why not change your pharmacy? Why not use that lovely Costco card you keep in your wallet, or maybe even buy online?" Why friends? One word two words: I'm lazy. CVS is right around the corner from my comfy home and not only is the store, but the pharmacy itself is open 24 hours a day. When Glow Worm (my one year-old) would gas at 2AM I could run to you, CVS, and you would have the generic gas relief he so desperately needed; when PMS sent me crying to find chocolate for the first time since having said Glow Worm you were there with a Whitman's Sampler and Kotex.
But this may be our end. I get migraines. A lot. I've seen doctors, specialists, Mr. CAT scan, chiropractors, and therapists, but it's just meant to be. Recently though, this drug Zomig has stopped them. It's amazing and I would buy it from the crack dealer if he had it. Unfortunately, he doesn't. Only Ike, I mean, CVS does. And for the small cost of $25 I get 8 pills that work like magic on a part of my body I can't do without. But I digress, yesterday I had one of my migraines and found that I had no Zomig. I call Ike, I mean CVS, and request a new prescription, I even spoke with a person at CVS rather than using the automated line. He assured me that there was the Zomig and to come and pick it up in about an hour.
One hour goes by and I drag my sorry behind and aching skull to the CVS window. "Pick up for Auntie Mame. One prescription please." and I hand over my debit card.
"Umm...hmm....doesn't look like we have your prescription ready. What was it?" I feel the pain sliding down to my neck.
"Zomig, I called it in about an hour ago. I spoke to a man."
"Oh, you didn't automize the refill?" my left eye begins to twitch.
"No, because I need it now. I'm sorry I waited so long"
"It looks like whoever you spoke with didn't plug it into the computer. Want me to go ahead and do that for you now?" No ass face, I want you to smash my head in that little sliding glass, looks like I'm at Burger King, window of yours.
"Yaaaa...that'd be great." The little lady taps something into the computer and then slides away from my view. At this point I lay my head on window jam of my car. The cool metal feels good against my thumping brow.
"Ma'am? Oh, there you are. Gosh, I'm sorry but we don't have your whole prescription in stock. We have like two tablets. Would you like me to fill what we can?" The pain has now numbed what I like to call my 'inner sensor'
"Yeah, that'd be terrific. While you're at it, could you let me speak to your pharmacist or manager or something? Because this happens a lot."
"Oh, yeah. Hang on." My left eye is now totally blind and I begin to think I shouldn't be driving. Little lady comes back.
"Ok, here is your prescription and your debit card back. The manager will need you to come in because she can't come to the pick up window." I take the two pills that have cost me not only $25 (that's $12.50 each), my receipt and debit card and reply,
"You know what, I don't have the time. This isn't the first time this has happened, it won't be the last. I'll complain next time."

1 comment:

Mamma Mia said...

Suddenly I'm really glad I no longer work there. You might have to sacrifice me.