outlet. for. pregnancy. hormones. (or, a negative review of Walgreens)

So.

I go to Walgreens pretty often. I used to visit my local Walgreens like every other day, because it was in walking distance from the location where I worked, and was super convenient for a secret smoke break (before pregnancy, thankyouverymuch) or an oft needed mid-day infusion of Munchos or caffeine (uh, also before pregnancy. Well except for the Munchos. I still devour those.)

Anyway, I digress. Sometimes I do that when I tell stories. And when I'm mad.

The people at my Walgreens are almost always really nicespice. This cute old man works there and he has an infectious smile. A cute old lady always mentions it when she has a coupon available for an item in my cart.

I love the checkout people at Walgreens. And I love the elderly.

Usually, the pharmacy staff at my chosen Walgreens are also very helpful, decent human beings. Yeah, they get busy, but they are still awesome.

Except for today.

See, I dropped off a prescription (baby and I are fine, don't worry. Nothing big; I'm not even sick) in the drive thru and went on my merry way. When I came back, I pulled up to the outside drive thru lane. Now, I'm not a huge fan of the outside lane because there isn't a window, and I like a little face time with the service industry. (If I wanted to deal with a pill-o-max or whatever, I would just apply to work with Nurse Jackie.) But, the window-lane was taken, so I decided I would use lane two. Obvi.

I pushed the help button, since sometimes two pharmacy techs work there. I've been there. I know.

Do you want to know what this heinous bleep said to me?

"...helping lane one..."

And that was it. No "I'll be right with you" or "Hi, how are you?"

I. was. livid!

I immediately pretended that I misunderstood and thought lane two was closed. I put my little Vibe (love ya, Bella!) in reverse and got behind the car in lane one. I wanted this little pharmacy skanks name. I wanted her blood. (Well, okay. That's taking it a little far.)

When it was my turn, I couldn't read her name tag because it was hanging sideways off her little Walgreens apron and was kind of hidden in the crevice of her arm.

"Yes?" She had the phone-with-the-microphone resting between her shoulder and her ear. She looked thoroughly bored. She made no eye contact with me.

"Picking up." I decided that two-could-play-this-terse-game.

"Address?"

"35486531 where i live street."

"$10.00." (Score! At least it was cheap.)

I swear I threw my checkcard in that little bin. Then, for good measure, I rolled my eyes. She probably didn't even see me.

When she gave me my medication and receipt, she did not say thank you. She did, for some unknown reason, tell me to have a good day. LIKE SHE CARED.

I decided she deserved NOTHING from me. So, I did not speak. She is cut off. Donespice.

See, the thing is -- I might be a banker, but I work in customer service. We know that people can choose to bank anywhere they want. We always welcome our customers, ask if there is anything else we can assist with, thank them for their business... we always use their names. We always smile and focus on our customers. These things seem second nature to me -- simple. Like breathing. Or like writing about being pissed off at a Walgreens employee who needs a serious attitude adjustment, and could also use highlights.