At least my scrubs are cute.

Ahh...the pharmacy. A job entailing accuracy, math, insurance companies, doctors on hold, and addicted patients. When I walked in the first day, I knew I was in for it. A line the size of kids waiting for an uice cream truck, and a float pharmacist that kept to himself. "Here you are!", the store manager unlocked the door to let me inside. "Good luck!". Good luck? I had hoped to pass off as a trainee the first several days so I could follow around some of the other techs and get used to how things worked around here. Afterall, I haven't been a technician in two years. But the truth came out, I had the most experience out of the all the other technicians, which was two. So there will be no training for me. I had to jump right in. "You know how to fill, ?", Ebony inquired. "Yea, I think so." I hurry to the filling station already feeling rushed, and pick up the first prescrption. Xalatan 0.5% opthalmic. That's in the fridge, right? I try to figure out where it would be in the pharmacy according to what room temperature it needs to be stored in. I find it and put in a blue tote to send off to the verifying pharmacist. Next is azithroymcin suspension. 150/5 ml. I find the recon section and wak over to find the correct bottle. An empty space hovers above the label where it should be. No problem, I tell myself. I will just have to use the next strength up and calculate the quantity difference to accomodate the  patients dosage needs. I rack my brain trying to recall the correct formula from my pharmacy textbooks. Then the phone rings. And rings. I take a deep breath and answer. "Walgreens Pharmacy, how can I help you?". "Yes, this is Olga calling from Dr. Craigs office. I a, authorizing refills for..." I type rapidly on the computer as Olga names off various drugs for numerous patients needing medication. I vaguely remember how to even pull up each of their profiles. I decide to just write it all down on scratch paper to deal with later. I hang to phone to see a myriad of red totes with prescitions wiating to be entered and filled. "Hey, nice scrubs. I'm Liz. A new face appears beside me to help with the pile. Thank God. "Thanks. I spent a fortune on them though."  The truth was I had procrastinated buying scrubs until the Sunday afternoon right before my shift. I ended up having to drive to Robbinsdale where a uniform outlet was still open for business. Then after two hours of trying on every navy blue pair of scrubs the store carried, I realized none of them were going to fit me correctly. That is until I tried on the expensive "Grey's Anatomy" brand. The only ones that run in junior sizes. I felt pretty sharp wearing it, too. So I dropped to $60 to purchase them. Now I could be at work a regular fashionista of the medical world. So I couldn't really mind too much the business, loudness, craziness of my new job. I have two friendly colleagues, a funny plarmacy manager that has a Minnesota accent so thick I stifle a giggle when I hear her talk excitedly, and a cute new guy that works out in the front of the store. I wonder if it counts as dating someone you work with if he's not in the pharmacy? The one fear I have is messing up someones medication horribly. And I do hope of that happens my scrubs will save me. " "That new technician gave me Viagra instead of Zyrtec! Now I have a skyrocked libido to deal with." "So whats the problem?", I will ask him. "Its for my 11 year old son!" Then he will notice what I am wearing. "Are those Grey's Anatomy scrubs, by the way? Very nice..."

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2 Response to "At least my scrubs are cute."

  1. Cole Garrett says:
    September 22, 2010 at 1:25 PM

    Wow. I was pretty sure before that I wouldn't make a good pharmacist. Now, I'm positive. Sounds to hectic for me. And if I make mistakes at my job, they're fixable, at least easier than an 11 year old on viagra.

    :)

  2. Muhammad Ayub says:
    October 6, 2011 at 8:46 AM

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