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Boy Shmoy!
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Holy...brick?
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..."
Ill have another margarita.
In less than two days, while the world was busy spinning around the sun, I was busy transporting my life to the middle of country. I started off excited and motivated as I put on Katy Perry's "Waking up in Vegas", and rolled my clothes up as tightly as possible to fit everything. I was slightly disappointed, though to learn that my entire life fit into three large packages. My going away party consisted of my grandma, mom, neighbor, and best friend, along with a few other stopper by's, helping me pack. Or better yet, watching me pack as they analyzed every item telling me it wasn't Minnesota worthy and they should keep it. When I finally finished stuffing all my thing into suitcases, duffle bags, and boxes, my cousin reorganized and repacked it all. "I'm anal about these things", she says. Then we drink margherita's and dance the macarena. "Your going to like living alone", my friend Darryl tells me. "But why are you going to Minnesota of all places?!" One friend leaves me with a bottle of Three Buck Chuck wine. Another creates a banner with signatures entitled "Go Jmac!" "Sorry, I'm just used to making basketball signs", she tells me. In the end, three of us are left to crash on the sofa and futon ans still there when I wake up in the morning frantic about getting ready in time. "Where's my comb? Has anyone seen my shoes? What time is it now?". I am a complete mess as my mom drops of JJ and I give an extra ling hug goodbye to her, her dad, and her dog. I make it back to car and ride along to the airport relatively sane. It hasn't quite hit me yet until my mom hugs m goodbye and I am standing in line at the security gate waiting for my assignd standby seat. Unfortunately, the movie playing on the flight was A-Team, which I already watched with the other night on a sort of forget about everything "date". So I doze as my head nods up and down with the drafts. I awaken to colder, familiar city. Or twin cities and I should say. The people are warm and the air is crisp. So much so that I got a nosebleed within the first six hours. My body physically was not used to the climate, the lack of altitude. I experienced withdrawal symptoms right away such as using "hella" and "potna" whenever possible. And refusing to wear a jacket. I keep calling lake street by Lakshore which is on Oakland. I want to smog proof my car. And then I remember I totaled my car while texting and driving into the rear end of a semi. That always snaps me back to reality.
I wanna go shopping...you know for the weather.
A full scale of events are always bound to happen right before you embark on something big. Like losing my keys or my mind for example. After a week of pretending that this wasn't happening and indulging in frozen yogurt and sunshine for the last time, my chore list grew and expanded until I found myself on the floor unable to breathe. JJ and I had just gotten home from running an important moving errand. An errand that turned into side glances in the windows of clothing shops, to "going in for a quick minute", to browsing through racks, to the shop of a lifetime. Oh, and the errand? Forget it. "OK just deep breaths, J. You're gonna be alright," my friend consoles me. Of course I would be alright, I knew that much. But since when is that enough for anybody. I want riches, fame, and success. I should probably be moving to Hollywood instead put my drama to good use. But I am till on the path to the Midwest where my dreams will either come true or get frostbitten. As I lay on the ground doing my zen breathing the exercises I learned at Berkeley Yoga Toga, I over look a the the new boots I bought at H&M and decide that buying new clothes "for the weather" can no longer be justified as packing. Of course I am not entirely sure I would have an address to send my belongings to even if I somehow did get them in boxes by moving date. My future landlord is as flakey as a California hippie. "Yeah, no worries, Jackie...I'll get the lease to you tomorrow. But the apartment is all yours." Two weeks later...tomorrow still hasn't come. "You just can stay with me while you keep looking for a spot," my friend Ella tells me. "I just hope you don't mind sleeping next to me in bed, ha!" The ironic thing is that I was originally going to rent out the available room in her house. But I decided that I didn't want to live with housemates any more. Or with three cats. I was far beyond that stage. Now I am back to sharing a room like sisters in grade school. Maybe. Not much I can do all the way from Oakland, anyhow. They must think I am not seriously coming. My grandfathers BBQ birthday in Livermore wine country just yesterday confirmed this notion. "So where are you moving out again?" "Minnesota." "Oh! Its so cold there. When are you going?" "Saturday" "What?! So soon? I thought you would be leaving next year or so." The evening turned from granddads 79th birthday to "let's interrogate Jackie". Yet family is family and they left me with multiple toasts to wish me luck as well with tales of their wild adventures in their 20s. I learned that anxiety is nothing a little alcohol and laughter can't fix. And a pair of swanky new boots. You know, for the weather.
Oh, NOW, you tell me...
The last three days of my residence in California has been full of surprises. Ones that had I know earlier, I may have chosen to stay. 1) My job has a new boss. A great head honcho of a manager that is nice, relaxed, and actually remembers my name. He even bought me a going away card forcing Ms. Kaur (the old manager) to sign it. Even though she hates me. 2) There are actually a lot of people in the bay area from the Minneapolis. And a lot of them are minorities. Yesterday I met a girl that attends the University of Minnesota, A guy that attends Mankato State, two guys traveling there for their 22nd birthday party, a screenwriter originally from there, the guy that works at the storage company has family there, and @ women that moved here to go to Mills College. And all this time felt like an Alien. JJ keeps asking me if we all talk with "the accent" and have hoe-downs at the state fair. But then again, she is a rare specimen from the city of L.A. where the only surroundings she as required to be aware of was what everyone else was wearing. 3) I have acquired a big group of friends here. I had no idea that I would be missed so entirely as I have been receiving texts and phone calls from people to whom I haven't yet relayed the news. And word travels fast. I have had visitors come into my job from the neighboring businesses to give me their best wishes, advice on how to stay warm. And the biggest question of all...Why?? Unfortunately, I cannot quite answer that one without pausing to consider it. After all, I am not embarking on some noble mission to save the world or even better myself. The cost of living is cheaper and I need really need time to live on my own in an environment where I feel most comfortable and at home. I miss my old friends and father, and I could really use their support as I begin pharmacy school next semester. But that doesn't nearly as exciting as what it could be. So when the subject arises I quickly change it to the weather, or cute shoes.
Honey...I shrunk the keys.
The day started off looking like it might be nice Saturday. Sun shining outside, birds chirping their melodies, the smell of fresh bacon sizzling in the apartment upstairs. So I didn't mind much being woken up for a trip to the frozen yogurt shop for breakfast ( they open early). I begin rummaging through my bag making sure I have everything so that I can at least buy once we get there. "Don't worry. I've money my Ingy tells me." So I leave the bag. As soon as we walk out of the door..."Crap...I left the keys." She didn't even miss a beat. Of course she has her door set to lock automatically behind you. So this is a problem. Normally I would expect something like this to happen to someone like me. Or least for it to be my fault. I am what I like to call "differently organized" (most people would call me disorganized but that bothers me). Therefore I am ALWAYS losing something. It was rather gratifying to watch an anal-retentive person such as my my step-mom get flustered over a silly mistake. Welcome to my world. I convince her that all is well as we continue on our way to yogurt shop down the street carrying no cell phones, car keys, or house keys. Just 10 dollars and the clothes on our backs. The yogurt was delicious and on the way back home we decide to borrow a green plastic chair from the front of my hair salon. "Excuse...I know this is crazy, but can I borrow your lawn chair for a minute?", I plead. Shortly after that I am holding the chair down to the ground while Ingy balances on her tip-toes to maneuver the window ajar. I won't budge. Not even a little bit. I wondered how we looked trying to break into a house. I also wondering why no passerby seemed to find this odd. One melted yogurt, bruised elbow, and exasperated sigh away, and we were on way back to Lakeshore. This time the plan was to go to my job at Walgreen's and use the phone to try and call for help. "And what did we learned from this mistake?", my co-worker Jill teased after I explained the predicament. Fortunately, she allowed me to use her iPhone to call my friend whom I remembered was off work and could pick us up and drive us to an hour to San Jose where to spare keys were located at another friends house. At least that was the plan until I realized that I did not have her phone number memorized. (Thanks a lot technology). "But she's your best friend!", I Ingy threw up her hands. So after some coaxing she convinces me to call her brother for the phone number...who also happens to be my ex-boyfriend. "Uh, hey Drewbie, I mean Andrew. This is Jackie. Not your sister Jackie the other one. (We also share a name). Can you call me back on this number? I mean if you aren't busy pf course. OK. Thanks. Bye." Click. God...dammit. Well maybe we should send some people an email. I know those by heart.". "But no one sits at home on their computer waiting for emails. Its a fat chance. Let's just go sit outside and wait", I suggest. Which is when we run into at least four people we know shopping and running errands. All of which have a car. Of course neither of us knew them closely enough to ask for such huge favor to drive us to Sam Jose. But they could have offered when I told what was up. Right? One "friend" however, does allow us to use her iPhone that wasn't really a phone it was an ipod touch but an iPhone so that we can look up the number to a locksmith. So I scramble to find a wi-fi from a business that doesn't require you to buy a double-shot grande latte and scone. Then I learn that locksmiths works by appointment and are booked until Monday. They would be happy to come and then. "But I have money!", I explain. I can feel the heat of sun rays poring through my skin and I sweat running from shop to shop looking for pens, scraps of paper, phones to borrow, and my sanity. Finally Jill calls saying that my friend JJ received the S.O.S. email Ingy finally sent her earlier as I was running around. She is on her way. "So you were on your computer", I ask her when she arrives. "No, goofy. I have a smart phone remember. My emails show up on the screen like an Instant Message." I feel like one of those anime characters that just realized the obvious and dramatically falls flat on her face. So as we all prepare for the drive to San Jose, bless her soul, Terrell, the neighbor with the spare key comes to Lakeshore Trader Joe's where we are leaving. "Hey T, we're locked out!", I call for his attention. " I know", he responds." I just got your email."
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