An Ode To My Old Pharmacy Glass.

You stood strong and true. A barrier, and today they say a barrier is bad for our profession.

What they mean is if customers shout to me questions about the location of shoelaces from the other side of the store, they can schedule two less clerk hours, for I will be doing extra clerk duties amongst those for which I went to college.

The barrier is gone, yet I talked more to patients about drugs back in the time of the barrier.

Today I talk to customers about where in the mall they can buy stamps. And where the Subway is.

I abused the barrier, I admit. I used it to keep a radio playing in the background they could not hear.

I would say things like "Good morning you dumb son of a bitch" out loud as I waved as they walked by.

But I talked to them more about drugs back then than I ever have a chance to now.

Sometimes customers come up and put their hand in front of them, expecting a barrier to still be there, they'll usually ask a drug type question. The guy looking for the motor oil never expects a barrier.

It would be very unprofessional for me to walk to a private area to talk to a patient evidently, according to the people who designed my store. Or it would cut into my ability to multitask, I'll let you decide which was the more likely driver of the design. God forbid I would have had a door to close behind me today while the lady told me she was scared because her prior auth for suboxone had been denied. She was saying it in the most private area we offered, and if you were at the cash register and it was quiet you probably could have heard every word.

You can also hear every word I say on the phone all day long. Oh how I yearn to clean the glass just one more time. And be HIPAA compliant.

But I appear more accessible today, and appearances matter far more than reality.

I talked far more about drugs when I had a barrier.
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An Ode To My Old Pharmacy Glass.
An Ode To My Old Pharmacy Glass.
Reviewed by malaria
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Rating : 4.5