Very late one evening, a drunkard stumbled in from the nearby pub, slurring every word he uttered. The pharmacist on duty at the time was available to serve him, yet struggled to understand exactly what he wanted. Instead, the pharmacist commented on how good a night the gentleman obviously had had.
This started up a whole conversation between the pharmacist and the inebriated man, one side professional & cheerful, the other almost completely incomprehensible.
Nearing the end of their buoyant discussion, the pharmacist tried to discern the product the gentleman was after. As it turned out, it appeared the intoxicated party was after what is commonly termed, a fit-pack. An item packaged with three to five 1mL syringes (depending on the pack size requested), which, in its heyday was used by diabetics to inject insulin. Since, in Australia, most insulin requiring diabetics now receive their insulin injecting equipment for free, they are most commonly reserved for drug addicts to obtain clean needles, rather than share syringes, as well as their diseases.
The intoxicated gentleman put $20 on the counter, while still in conversation with the pharmacist, of whom processed the sale. The pharmacist then left the fit-pack and the money on the counter. The drunken man fumbled while retrieving his money then looked puzzled at the fit-pack, muttering loudly, “What’s this?”
He ripped open the fit-pack peering inside. “Syringes?!?” He slurred with gusto. “I didn’t ask for syringes!”
Then he stumbled out the front door of the pharmacy, never realising he spent $8 and left the item he didn’t need or want on the counter…
Showing posts with label drug. Show all posts
Showing posts with label drug. Show all posts
Friday, 3 May 2013
Monday, 6 September 2010
The Pharmacist's Phault
Late at night, a scrawny, dirty looking man in his mid 40's comes into the pharmacy and asks for a syringe barrel and needle. Yes, a druggie. I comply with his request and ask him for the $2.50 to cover the cost. He gives me $3 and I return to him 50 cents change.
He then begins the typical druggie spill about how he doesn't do drugs and it's for his diabetes or sickness or something. I've heard it so often I just drift away with my thoughts and nod. He asks for a medi-swab so he can be "clean." We sell them for 50 cents, which is actually extremely expensive, but I don't set the price.
He hands me the remaining 50 cents he has from the last sale complaining that it's too expensive. He asks me to throw another one in for him for free, to which I refuse. "The price is fifty cents. If you have another 50 cents I'll give you another," I said.
I could have given him another one, but I'm also aware that if you give a man like this an inch, he'll take from you a mile.
He refuses to pay any extra and angrily walks off muttering things under his breath, possibly even swearing at me. He then stops closer to the front door and yells at me, "This is serious! I could die!"
I ignore him and let him walk out in an angry mood. But seriously, he could die without having an extra alcohol swab?!?!
Later in the evening, the assistant & I close the front door and are in the process of shutting shop when we hear a tapping on the window. Low and behold there is the druggie at the window attempting to talk to us. Unfortunately for him, we were on the other side of the store and couldn't hear his muffled rants. The assistant went up to the window to help translate. As it turns out he was politely - yes, politely - asking if he left $2.50 on the counter.
Just in case, and to make him happy, I check the counter and find nothing. I relay the message through to the assistant who tells the druggie. He yells through the window, "Give me my $2.50 back, it's my bus money!"
I replied back loudly, "No. You gave me $3, I gave you 50 cents change, then you bought a swab for 50 cents. You spent all of your money and we don't have any more of it!"
He continues to shout at me through the window to give him his money back. I give up and continue shutting the shop and tell the assistant to ignore him, but he still continues. Eventually I give up and yell at him, "Bugger off!"
At this point, he stops his jabbering and says, "This will come back to you!" and leaves. Finally!
And as you probably guessed, I'm still waiting for my karma for the 50 cent alcohol swab. I wonder if he's OD'd and died yet?
He then begins the typical druggie spill about how he doesn't do drugs and it's for his diabetes or sickness or something. I've heard it so often I just drift away with my thoughts and nod. He asks for a medi-swab so he can be "clean." We sell them for 50 cents, which is actually extremely expensive, but I don't set the price.
He hands me the remaining 50 cents he has from the last sale complaining that it's too expensive. He asks me to throw another one in for him for free, to which I refuse. "The price is fifty cents. If you have another 50 cents I'll give you another," I said.
I could have given him another one, but I'm also aware that if you give a man like this an inch, he'll take from you a mile.
He refuses to pay any extra and angrily walks off muttering things under his breath, possibly even swearing at me. He then stops closer to the front door and yells at me, "This is serious! I could die!"
I ignore him and let him walk out in an angry mood. But seriously, he could die without having an extra alcohol swab?!?!
Later in the evening, the assistant & I close the front door and are in the process of shutting shop when we hear a tapping on the window. Low and behold there is the druggie at the window attempting to talk to us. Unfortunately for him, we were on the other side of the store and couldn't hear his muffled rants. The assistant went up to the window to help translate. As it turns out he was politely - yes, politely - asking if he left $2.50 on the counter.
Just in case, and to make him happy, I check the counter and find nothing. I relay the message through to the assistant who tells the druggie. He yells through the window, "Give me my $2.50 back, it's my bus money!"
I replied back loudly, "No. You gave me $3, I gave you 50 cents change, then you bought a swab for 50 cents. You spent all of your money and we don't have any more of it!"
He continues to shout at me through the window to give him his money back. I give up and continue shutting the shop and tell the assistant to ignore him, but he still continues. Eventually I give up and yell at him, "Bugger off!"
At this point, he stops his jabbering and says, "This will come back to you!" and leaves. Finally!
And as you probably guessed, I'm still waiting for my karma for the 50 cent alcohol swab. I wonder if he's OD'd and died yet?
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