Bring Me the Stressed One.
I never thought I’d say this, but I can’t wait to go to work tomorrow and see StressedRPh behind the counter. Working a shift with Whatshisname is the most incredibly annoying thing I ever have to deal with. He spent 5 minutes almost interrogating a patient because a doctor sent over a script for a patient who had gotten married since the last time she’d had something filled. Script came over under one name, and her pharmacy profile had her maiden name. Whatshisname is one of those people who thinks he has to narrate his entire life. Unfortunately, everything he narrates sounds like he’s asking a question.
“This is a different name?” Yes, she changed her name. All of her other information is exactly the same.
“But it’s a different name?” Yes, she changed her name, we’ll update the computer when she comes in.
“We should make a note?” Fucking do whatever, I don’t care.
Five minutes later I hear him on the phone with the patient, asking her all sorts of questions about the two names. “Why is your name is different? …. The doctor sent it with a different name …. You changed it? … Why did you change it? … Is it your husband’s name?” Jesus jumped up roaring Christ in a chariot, why the fuck do you care? If she wants to change her god damned name to Manhattan ClamChowder, she doesn’t need a reason why, and she certainly doesn’t need to explain her reasons to your. Make your note and move on.
Got to talk to Shawshank tonight for a little while. He sounded good. I’m not sure if he’s actually good, or if I’ve just spent too much time transcribing his early letters. There were some dark times at the beginning, that’s for sure. And he was soooo optimistic he’d be out by April. He laughed when I told him I was transcribing his letters instead of just uploading the digital versions of them. “Screen readers,” I told him.
“Gonna publish it on Amazon? We’ll make dollars,” he told me, again.
Morning, folks. It’s Wednesday, and I had a shit sleep. Maybe my coffee will help a little.
I transcribed a few more letters last night. I’m sure that probably had a lot to do with the terrible sleep. He was having a really bad stretch of time for the first few days after his roommate left. When we talked last night, he sounded good. Unfortunately, transcribing a few letters where he’s borderline suicidal isn’t good before bedtime. I was dreaming that he called me, in tears, to tell me he’d try to go to some sort of group counseling session and fainted. Last week, he’d put in a request to talk to someone; I know his monthly sessions were helping him immensely in the BEFORE times. Unfortunately, when I asked about it over the weekend, he hadn’t heard anything yet.
“It would be nice to just have someone to talk to,” he told me. “Good thing it wasn’t a cry for help.”
On a good note, Shawshank should be getting some books today. They were delivered on Monday. However, I think the detainees and inmates receive mail twice a week, with their commissary orders. He’ll get two deliveries, with Cat’s Cradle and Foucault’s Pendulum in the first, and Slaughterhouse Five in the next one. I don’t know what he’ll be doing with the books when he leaves. He’s been putting “important things” in his copy of House of Leaves. I don’t imagine he’ll be able to bring a plastic bag of books with him. I might consider trying to jam a backpack into the bag I packed for him.
Just like every other time I have to work a stretch of time with a terrible fill-in pharmacist while StressedRPh has time off, I’m expecting to catch an earful when I get in. When I arrived yesterday, the printer had no paper, and the bin had no trash bag in it (but had a bunch of trash). Supplies hadn’t been restocked. The trash was obviously from Whatshisname. He’s the only one who wears purple gloves and the empty stock bottles were from drugs in the safe. It’s a terrible trade-off. I don’t have to work with Whatshisname, but StressedRPH will be pitching a nutty, as BossRPh would say.
Wish me luck, because I’m gonna need it to make it through the day.