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Beatriz Pino`
Dr.Joeckel
ENG1103
08/26/2019
Why I will Hate Retail for the Rest of my Life
I work in a pharmacy, which is glorified retail. When I applied for this job, at the ripe age of 18,
I noticed an interesting requirement on the application: “must be able to cope with the mental
and emotional stress of the position”, and it should’ve been a red flag. You’re a medical
professional, but you never get any of the perks, like patients bringing you snacks to say thank
you to their doctors and their staff. Although I’d be lying if I said we didn’t receive a box of
chocolates once, it turned out to be taken off the shelf just before the patient arrived, which
means we got stolen chocolate. Later that shift my coworkers and I had to answer the many
questions that human resources had for us. This caused us to fear losing our jobs, all over
Hershey’s chocolate, and for that I will never forgive the patient.
I must give the general public credit; it’s hard to wait in their physician’s office for several
hours, they make no complaints in there. I get that they mostly feel sick and tired, and they
probably feel like they need their medications right away. After tirelessly waiting at the office,
it’s only right to yell at the pharmacy staff over a twenty-minute wait time. A fun fact is that
80% of our patients are senior citizens residing in assisted living homes, so I understand the urge
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to make it to their 5 o clock bingo session, which they can’t miss if they want to stay in their
circle of popularity.
Not everyone that I interact with leaves me with a taste of bitterness at the end of their
transaction. Working in healthcare can certainly feel like a blessing, putting a smile on people’s
faces when they feel at their worst can feel very rewarding. But that never happens with anyone
over 65, I believe that you get your “smile license” revoked and exchanged for a MEDICARE
card. Maybe there’s something special about snow birds that makes me feel a bit of resentment.
I can think of a few reasons: the way they drive, the way they talk, the way they think and the
way they breath.
Usually, there’s a villain and a hero involved in every story. I will call the hero of this story Tom
(for HIPAA purposes). It was a rather sunny afternoon in Florida, maybe anywhere from 300 to
303 degrees outside. I had a line of four people when my pharmacist decided to go to the
bathroom. She hadn't gone on a break in a long time due to the fact that she is working hard to be
promoted, and what other way to do that but to work 80 hours a week and forget about a personal
life? I hope corporate CVS writes about her in their history books centuries from now. Pain is
temporary, but a manager’s pay is forever. As I’m standing in front of the four people line, I ring
up Tom, my hero, and place his condoms and his Viagra prescription that, by the way, was over
$1,000, in a bag. Clearly Tom was doing very well in life. This time I paid close attention to him,
because he was casually spending $1,000, and I aspire to reach that level of success. It's
important to note that Tom was very nice every time he came to the pharmacy, he’s very
respectful, and overall just such a pure soul. Suddenly, Tom tells me that he is not feeling well,
that he has a sharp pain in his chest, and that he feels like he’s going to pass out. Tom looks
really pale now and I can hear the pain in dear Toms voice, not all people who have heart attacks
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have the same symptoms or have the same severity of symptoms. Some people have mild pain;
others have more severe pain, some heart attacks strike suddenly, but many people have warning
signs and symptoms hours, days or weeks in advance. I feel devastated and terrified,
remembering a Facebook post from years ago, I quickly realize that he is experiencing it at this
very second! In this moment of panic, there were so many thoughts racing through my mind.
After realizing that Tom's heart was on the fritz, I quickly paged my pharmacist. I don’t know if
she understood my page because of my accent, but there was no time to waste. Tom’s life, and
his $1,000 were in my hands. I called 911 and I was pleased to hear a helpful, attentive lady. She
was incredibly on top of things and sent an ambulance right away, quite literally, the voice of an
angel. She walked me though CPR just in case, which made me feel a lot better, I was prepared
for anything. While waiting for emergency services to arrive I try to comfort sweet Tom. That’s
when the villain of my story appears. For identity purposes we will call him Scar. Scar was the
next customer in line and he was visibly upset that I had spent so much time on Tom’s
transaction. Scar has the audacity to stare at me and with no shame spill the worst question I
have ever heard in my twenty-four years of life. Although I’ve received at least a million
annoying and angering questions, this one still makes my blood boil. He asks, “is there another
cashier? I have ice cream in my trunk that’s going to melt.” I think to myself, Scar, there’s
people in Africa that are dying, and so is the man in front of you! Of course, I didn’t answer.
Somethings are better left unsaid. I was so upset and offended by the inconsiderate nature of this
question. I will never forget how much I despised Scar that day. The rest is history, my
pharmacist came back and helped Tom while I was ringing up my now archenemy. The
ambulance was just seconds away and although I haven't seen Tom ever since, I like to believe
he made It just fine. I still see Scar occasionally. I hide from him quite a lot, just because I don’t
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like to help him, and because I think of MMA wresting every time I see his dumb face. There
have been many instances in life that have molded me into the person I am today, but I like to
think of that day as the breaking point in which I definitely knew, I was going to hate retail for
the rest of my life.