I now believe in miracles.
One of the subreddits I “enjoy” is called r/FuckI’mOld… And they show things like floppy discs and Flinstone vitamins talk about Reading Rainbow which I think might have made an ironic hipster comebacks the likes of a bill sitting on capital hill.
For me it is mostly physical. The music that is TOO LOUND, the smell that is TOO STRONG, the air temperature that is TOO HOT OR TOO COLD, the hand skin that looks as though I could slip it off like a glove. That sounded unintentionally serial killeresque, forgive me, I am talking about my own hand skin. The main reason I feel really old is my relationship with my pharmacy. It is co-dependent. They like to text me about things that matter: “Your prescription V is ready for pick up. They also like to be a tad aggressive: “We will hold prescption X for 8 days before we re stock it.” They text about things that only matters to corporate:“Have you downloaded our app?”
Hell yes I have the app it is on my fucking homescreen. I considered putting it on the dock but really that is sacred social space. Now that I consider it a large part of my social life does take place in the pharmacy so perhaps the phone icon could go? Then they try to intrude. “Would you like to us to contact your doctor for a refill on the meds from 2004?” No. And didn’t I archive those meds from your amazing app. Let me check. It’s already open.
I know some of you don’t understand this Don’t have a counter full of bottles. 26 in fact. I also know that some of you do. So for these people (mom and John) I would like to share with you a miracle.
My primary pharmacy (I have four, the one inside Target in Denver, the freestanding one at the worst intersection in all of Vermont, the local one in the ex airforce base, and the one in the atrium of the hospital that is DMV-like in its service and the happiness of its customer base.) is inside Target. (Redundant to point out but I know many people skip parentheses (and can we agree that most of life happens in the asides?)) L and I were there picking up some stuff. We have a few hard things (that’s what she said… poor sex jokes are a great way to stay young) so we are wandering the aisles when I get a text.
“Your prescription S is ready for pick up.” So here I am mere steps away from the pharmacy and a RX that was automatically filled was ready. If that were the only part of the miracle it would be enough. But it isn’t! I leave head to the pharmacy and there is NO ONE IN LINE. Not one mom with a baby on her hip, or one middle aged man trying to avert his gaze from the discount condoms and vibrators that Target has begun selling (the vibrators are new, the discount condoms, presumably, not so much.) I can tell you what is on the end caps that face the pharmacy line..chap stick in flavors I don’t want, footcare including compression socks and cheese graters, the discount shelf, home of aforementioned condoms, dusty lotion, and strangely specific snack food. Crab and pickle chips anyone? Sometimes I am far enough back to see the maternity section and look, as I always do, for belly loose t-shirts that don’t say “baby on board.”
But today I don’t SEE those shelves or shirts because I am not in line. Because I walked right up to the desk. Where someone was ALREADY STANDING at the register. I gave them my last name and date of birth in the order that they like before they asked and we made meaningful eye contact. We both knew what we were doing. The two of us were going to get this done. “One prescription ready for Anna.” “Yes.” They turned and did not have to slide their pointers along the alphabetized bins as if overnight the letters might have rearranged themselves like Chick Chicka Boom Boom (does that children’s book include cultural appropriation? It might…) The P bin is the second row from the bottom third in from the left, low enough that I can see tops of tattos, bits of hair and vulnerable soft rolls, as the techs get my meds with a grunt. Not so for this tech. They squatted at the knees in one fluid motion, grabbed the bag that was in the front and placed it on the counter. I knew to sign the release screen before I began trying to pay with my phone. I shook my head about talking to the pharmacist as they were asking, shaking their own head back. The price (which I already knew) rung up correctly. They handed over my little stapled bag and when we said “Thank you, have a good day” in unison I am pretty sure we both meant it.
I use the pharmacy between 3 and 290 times a week and have never experienced start to finish in sync with someone like this. (Title of my sex tape.)
I am bouncing back to L who has found the chicken taquitos with no cheese and the applegate farms savory turkey sausage links which Target likes to move around the store. We meet at the self check and load the bags that we remembered from home without triggering the needs assistance light for the snail who works there.
We are on the way one, windows down, singing to a song we both love when I get a text. “A prescription H is ready for you.”
I knew miracles weren’t possible.
What makes you say “Fuck I’m old”
orrrrr
Share a miracle
Love this! So true. I’m a slave to three different pharmacies-- one is for my dog. They had the best prices for his out of pocket meds. Love the ones that have a drive thru. Condoms on sale? What could possibly be wrong with them to warrant a discount?
Hilarious! I stay with a pharmacy far from home because they send reliable notifications when RX are filled and when they're not ready. It's simple good service, but so rare that (while not a miracle) hsd my loyalty.