So there’s this pharmacist, we’ll call her Carol — because her name is Carol. Carol has a way of making me feel like a junkie every time I call in to have my scripts refilled. Every. Fucking. Time. I have never seen Carol smile, not ever, but she has a sneer like you have never seen. The woman gives me chills. I’m afraid of Carol. When I walk into the pharmacy, the one I have been using for fifteen years now, if I see Carol I walk back out and send Scott back to get my meds.
When I call in I cross my fingers and take a deep breath, I have a chant that runs on a loop in my head

Please don’t get Carol. Please don’t get Carol.

Anxiety starts to build and my guts start to churn.

Carol speaking.

Instant paranoia sets in and the image of Agatha Trunchbull on the other end of the line just waiting to put me in the chokey has left me speechless.

Carol speaking! Hello!

Oh she sounds angry, I hesitated and now I’m ready to pull the chute but I think they have caller ID

Hello Carol, this is Nicole Lyons, how are you?

Silence. This woman has decided to hate me and it freaks me out. I’m actually sweating now like I’ve run 5km. I don’t run, unless Carol was chasing me.

Okay, I’m calling to have my meds refilled. Ken (the awesome pharmacy supervisor) has started to put them into blister packs, except for my sleeping pills and clonazepam, and I wanted to call a few days early to give you enough time to do that.

Carol lets out an irritated breath, like she’s gearing up to explain something to a two year old. I can hear her typing.

Nicole you still have five days left of the meds you have.

Now I’m pissed and a rush of confidence surges through me.

Yes Carol, but I just explained to you that I’m calling to give you time, also I have no restrictions on my file so I can pick all of my meds up at any time I want. If there is a problem I suggest you take it up with Ken.

I’m not going to lie, I’m filled with a childish glee now and Carol can kiss my ass.

Well then, maybe I will talk to Ken and get this sorted out.

Okay, what in the actual fuck needs to be sorted out? My confidence is wavering and I’m starting to stammer. I don’t have a speech impediment but this woman has some strange mind control shit that brings out the impossible.

I can hear her typing again now.

Oh Nicole it looks like you don’t have any restrictions on your file. You can pick up your meds on Wednesday.

She slams, actually slams the phone down to hang up on me, and a sense of relief washes over. I’ve started to mark down the dates and times when I’ve had the unfortunate encounters with Carol in hopes that I can work out her schedule to avoid this shit. Either that or I’m calling the pdoc to up the clonazepam.

Well it’s all good now, I’m sending Scott in on Wednesday to get my meds and it’ll be another month till I have to get up the nerve to call the pharmacy again. Maybe I can sneak into the back and photocopy the schedule.