Pharmacy At 7:06 pm
“I don’t want any trouble. Just place the pills on the counter, put your hands above your head, walk away slowly and we won’t have any issues. If you fail to comply with these commands...things might get ugly.”
Nobody likes going to the pharmacy, it’s just one of those things you gotta do like airport security and colonoscopies.
As somebody laden with medical issues I take my routine trips to the drug store often, but this was a special day because one of my doctors had just faxed over 3 shiny new prescriptions! I was kind of excited. It was like taking your weekly trip to the grocery store with your mom only to have her let you choose a special treat chocolate bar at checkout...if “chocolate bar” can also be code, in this case, for pills meant to eradicate yeast infections like the one I was currently suffering from.
I didn’t know if this yeast infection was a parting gift from a past lover, or an after effect of swamp crotch from the spandex leggings I do pilates in, but I did know this had to be dealt with ASAP.
The logistical wizard that I am, I’d hit the pharmacy before heading to work that morning, confirmed the prescriptions I needed filled, and went to work with the assumption that they would be ready for pick up that evening on my way home. This was not the case.
I was second in line when I first arrived but there were quickly a dozen others behind me, and in the adjacent “Drop-Off” queue. The man in front of me let out an aggressive sigh, targeted towards the woman click-clacking away on her keyboard searching to find his insurance provider’s policies, as we waited.
“Ummmm sir, I was in front of you!” Said one particularly crabby woman to the man who had unintentionally cut in front of her in the next line over. Maybe she had a yeast infection too. I feel you sista.
As I tried to stealthily soothe the raging sting of my nether regions by giving myself a wedgie under my parka, I read the names of medication bottles on the shelves that stood behind the gilded iron gates, that was the pharmacy counter, to pass the time.
Hey, what ever happened to lice? The original pandemic of this world that only affected our youngest populations. Kids would be dropping like flies in the second grade, only to return to school a week later with an inexplicably shaved head. The silent sufferers. Thank god I didn’t have many friends growing up, these pandemics sure do reward the lonely and I am here for it.
You can tell a lot about a person by what’s in their toiletry cabinet, and pharmacists have a VIP pass. Looking around at my fellow awaiting patrons I wondered what they were in line for. Antidepressants? Dandruff shampoo? Viagra?
Drugs really are a choose your own adventure kind of a thing. You really can get prescribed pretty much anything you want. One of the new prescriptions I was waiting to be filled was something an instagram influencer I followed had mentioned in her weekly “Ask Me Anything!<3”, and since I too wanted to be hot and living in Manhattan, I asked my doctor wether it might be a good fit for me.
“We can give it a try.”
“Do you think there would be any side effects?”
“Probably not.”
“Do you think it would interact poorly with the medications I’m already on?”
“What medications are you taking?”
I dipped in and out of the conversation the two girls next to me were having. About my age, seemed they’d run in to each other by chance. Normal catch-up stuff, work, school. One of the girls was about to take her MCAT which for some reason surprised me. I imagined her giving bullshit prescriptions of her own to future clients if all went well at her test, fingers crossed.
Finally my time had arrived. I’d come to feel for the person behind the counter, serving an endless line of dissatisfied customers. I was friendly, asked how they were doing. I don’t know how much pharmacists make a year, but I do know that it would have to be a mighty high number for me to put up with irritable loonies berating me all day long. Can you believe the way some of these people talk to other human beings when trying to get their silly little pharmaceuticals refilled, knowing that they’re doing their job the best that they can--
“It’s going to be another 30 minutes.”
“Anothe--but I??--what’s even going on behind this counter because I swear you’ve been just standing there for the last fifteen minutes, are you getting paid 100k a year to play sudoku?!” I take a breath. Regain my composure and gather my thoughts. “Listen to me sir, I’m not sure if you can relate but surely you’ll be able to sympathize. My pussy is blazing like the late day sun and if I don’t get my pills now, we’re gonna have a problem.”
“They’ll be ready in 30 minutes.”
With thirty minutes to kill I decide to do some shopping. Say this was a pretty good business plan to get customers to spend money in your store out of sheer boredom. I needed new razor blades anyways. If I ever have a daughter there are certain pieces of advice I would pass on to her.
1. You’re prettier than you think, maybe not gorgeous (I haven’t seen the kid yet, don’t wanna set idealistic expectations here), but prettier than you think.
2. Always get the big one.
3. Always buy men’s shaving products, they’re better quality and cheaper.
Meandering through the aisles, I walk by the condoms and a guy who was making his pick. It’d be a cute story to tell the kids of how we met, “Our hands met reaching for the ultra ribbed trojans and that’s when we knew.” You know he’s interested in having sex, likely not exclusive with anyone in particular, possibly get a suggestion of the size of their dick, and you know safe sex matters to them. Screw dating apps, I’m declaring the condom aisle to be the best place to meet someone in 2022! Besides maybe the time a guy asked me for my number at an STI testing clinic...(to which I said “I’ll let you know on your way out.”)
The condoms were kept directly across from the baby formula, which seemed odd since if you used one you would likely not need the other. The baby formula was kept under lock and key. I heard once that baby formula was the most commonly stolen product across the board, which is why most all stores secure it behind sheets of plexiglass and in slotted metal cages, which I found profoundly upsetting.
Walking by the frozen food aisle always feels like I’m catching a glimpse in to a parallel life I could be living. If the organic, naturalist that had invaded my body at a young age hadn’t, imagine how much time and energy I could be saving if my dinner preparation were cut down to “Preheat to 350 and bake for 20 minutes”. Honestly some of those prepared meals looked pretty good. As I pick up a package that was marked as 50% off a woman beside me voices “It’s on sale because it’s close to expiry. Just so you know...” If this lady thought my internal health queen was above scrapping off a thin layer of mold to save a buck, she was severely mistaken (advice for daughter 4. Expiry dates are merely a suggestion, don’t expect others to be at their best all the time when none of us can be).
I feel like there was something else I meant to get...floss? Conditioner? Of course it’s going to hit me the moment I get home.
They really do have a pill for everything and the more I saw the more convinced I became that I needed them. Was I shitting at a normal rate? Did I have eczema?? Could I pull off an auburn box dye?
The selection of canes was abysmal. A handful of boring stainless steel pipes with rubber soles and a curved top. Let’s go back to the days when a top hat and a bad knee were a marker of success. When walking sticks were ornately crafted and ivory topped, what grandeur! When disability was in mode, take me back! Like that moment in 2008 when everybody was wearing fake glasses.
Speaking of, the choice of reading glasses was much better. I had an in depth eye exam done last year and was told by the optometrist I should get glasses, which I did not listen to. Based in general mistrust, part of me thought the guy was just trying to make a commission and, because the mistrust runs deep, I was also afraid I may have lied during the test for attention. Maybe I said “J” when I knew it was an “F”, the things I do to for special treatment I swear it’s gone too far! Besides, how far does one really need to see anyways? Eyeing a pair of tortoise shell frames I was rethinking my hesitancy.
You don’t realize how fun it is to smell things until you’re in the perfume section for a good 15 minutes.
It’s incredible how early easter chocolate is sold. I’d like to put in a request to receive birthday gifts 3 months in advance as well please and thank you.
Checking my phone I realize my 30 minutes are up, and rejoin the line (more like a throng of unfriendly, familiar faces at this point).
I assertively approached the counter. I was an addict waiting for my next hit, and was not leaving here without the goods. I’d seen all of breaking bad, I knew how these raids went down. I was also prepared to pull on some heart strings by explaining that I had a date with aisle 4 cutie, and could not exactly throw it down with a sourdough starter between my legs.
After some confusion and shuffling (where do they find these people?) I was handed two out of my three prescriptions. The other wouldn’t be back in stock until the next day, I was told. Classic.
Slightly defeated but holding my head high I salute my cohorts, surely about to be let down, and finally leave. As I walk out the motion censored doors, I look back over my shoulder at the bright neon sign with the rush hour traffic and troubles of today rushing past. I walk in the direction of home where a setting sun hung before entering the place that nearly broke me, an expired bagged salad and anti fungal meds slung over my shoulder. I worry for what tomorrow may bring and how I may fare, but now is not the time. Now is time for rest, and scratching your vulva like you can not ethically do in public. We ride at dawn.