An errand of a certain nature
Jun. 25th, 2009 10:42 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
stephbgPrior to my fun-filled afternoon with doctors, insanely cheerful receptionists, and bleakly humerous vampires, I had another errand to run. You see, I'd been done on a drug deal.
Yesterday I filled a script for a certain item that I usually get in batches of 28, in two boxes of 14 taped together. Only, I didn't notice until I got home that I only had one box. This happens sometimes: sometimes they only have one box in stock and I have to go back a day or two later to pick up the second; this particular medication used to come in boxes of 21, so it wasn't entirely improbable that a 28x box was now available.
Or--let's face it--I signed for, paid, and collected something in a paper bag without really paying attention and was left with half the goods.
Procedurally, I was left with an interesting problem.
Bad Girl Scenario
What if the pharmacy had done the right thing, and I had gone home, untaped the two boxes and returned to claim that I'd only been given the one? It was the last repeat on the script (and it's expensive): perhaps I was trying to squeeze another couple of weeks' supply? The label said 28, the script said 28, the receipt said 28. Was there any kind of despatch system on the pharmacy side that could confirm whether they actually gave me 14 or 28?
I do have a followup script as it happens, so I could at least establish I wasn't at the end of my rope, although perversely I deliberately left it at home, thinking I might be overstating my case if I produced too much evidence. It could be fetched if I needed to press my point.
I tried to not look shifty as I awaited the decision. This no doubt ensured that I looked very shifty indeed.
In the end I don't know what their stockkeeping systems told them, but they either confirmed their error or trusted me, and gave me the missing box, firmly taped to the original with the stickers. I'd like to think it was at least partly a matter of trust. They've seen me often enough over several years, and it's hardly a decent payoff for a long con if I were planning to skip.
Such language :-)
Maybe Husband has a point when he says I watch too many police procedurals.
As for the insanely cheerful receptionist...
She worked for a gastroenterologist and the patient crowd seemed to average age 75, so I guess a cheerful manner would help one get through the day. She kept calling me Babe, which might not work on the older set. Maybe she shifts to Love or Dearie over a certain age.
Yesterday I filled a script for a certain item that I usually get in batches of 28, in two boxes of 14 taped together. Only, I didn't notice until I got home that I only had one box. This happens sometimes: sometimes they only have one box in stock and I have to go back a day or two later to pick up the second; this particular medication used to come in boxes of 21, so it wasn't entirely improbable that a 28x box was now available.
Or--let's face it--I signed for, paid, and collected something in a paper bag without really paying attention and was left with half the goods.
Procedurally, I was left with an interesting problem.
Bad Girl Scenario
What if the pharmacy had done the right thing, and I had gone home, untaped the two boxes and returned to claim that I'd only been given the one? It was the last repeat on the script (and it's expensive): perhaps I was trying to squeeze another couple of weeks' supply? The label said 28, the script said 28, the receipt said 28. Was there any kind of despatch system on the pharmacy side that could confirm whether they actually gave me 14 or 28?
I do have a followup script as it happens, so I could at least establish I wasn't at the end of my rope, although perversely I deliberately left it at home, thinking I might be overstating my case if I produced too much evidence. It could be fetched if I needed to press my point.
I tried to not look shifty as I awaited the decision. This no doubt ensured that I looked very shifty indeed.
In the end I don't know what their stockkeeping systems told them, but they either confirmed their error or trusted me, and gave me the missing box, firmly taped to the original with the stickers. I'd like to think it was at least partly a matter of trust. They've seen me often enough over several years, and it's hardly a decent payoff for a long con if I were planning to skip.
Such language :-)
Maybe Husband has a point when he says I watch too many police procedurals.
As for the insanely cheerful receptionist...
She worked for a gastroenterologist and the patient crowd seemed to average age 75, so I guess a cheerful manner would help one get through the day. She kept calling me Babe, which might not work on the older set. Maybe she shifts to Love or Dearie over a certain age.
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no subject
Date: 2009-06-25 02:57 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2009-06-25 03:08 pm (UTC)My sisters and I use it amongst ourselves occassionally, but it's not a word I would voluntarily throw into the mix with a stranger.
The only person who was allowed to call me Baby (or more specifically Bubbee) was my big brother who had every right to do so.
If anyone attempted to call me Baby I would impolitely rip them a new one immediately.
no subject
Date: 2009-06-25 03:39 pm (UTC)Endearments to do with confectionary (hun, sugar, etc.) I have no problems with at all, at least from people I know reasonably well. I'm not sure how I'd react to someone I don't know at all, and who I have no reason to be talking to, attempted to use an endearment to ingratiate themselves.