pharmacy, maybe not

It’s a surprisingly rowdy Monday evening, and the store is packed. The sound of motorcycles roaring by completely drown out the over played soundtrack blaring from the speakers. It’s a nice break.

Thanks to the annual Bike Week in Daytona, Pharmacy is swamped. From druggies with their forged scripts for Hydrocodone, to the old, tattered bikers who drive down for one last hurrah, things are hectic. Unfortunately, for them, as well as the crew we have Mike tonight as our Pharmacist.

Mike is a man who, by all means, is highly educated, very intelligent, yet he feels the need to carry on in a way my own children learned was inappropriate by the age of two.

He kicks things, he screams, he curses, he tells customers how stupid he thinks they are, and yet his job is secure. He gets to carry on in a way that some of us have dreamed of, only to know how inappropriate it really is. Scary even. The only difference is, at the end of the day, he can go home without worrying if his job will be waiting for him in the morning. He can call a customer an asshole today, steal a hundred dollars on his way out the door, and show up for work tomorrow as if nothing ever happened. Why, because Pharmacists are in short supply. They are treated like gold in my business. And this man knows this.

He’s a condescending, rage-o-holic. And he’s also my new boss. In the two weeks that I’ve been back there, the only thing I can say for my experience is that I feel sorry for his wife.

No longer to I love my job. No longer do I wake up ready to go to work. Instead I dread it. Hate it, even.

This is not good. Not good indeed.

Maybe pharmacy isn’t for me.

No, more to the point, this Pharmacist isn’t for me. He makes work hell.

Time to ask Bob, my store manager, about management opportunities instead.

Get back to doing something I enjoy before I feel the need, like so many techs before me, head out into the big world, in search of a new job.