Adam Thomas, RPH

            4:04 p.m.

            The first syringe sale of the day.  The customer insisted it was for his grandmother’s cat.  At least he didn’t say it was for his grandmother or that he even had a cat for that matter.  Then I would’ve known for sure he was lying.

            6:39 p.m.

            “Shaw Pharmacy. May I help you?”

            “Hello, my name is Mrs. Gorecki.  I’m the third car back in Lane One.  I was wondering if you could please work faster.  I need to be at an appointment in a few minutes.” She paused. “Hold on a minute, I have someone beeping in.”

            Instinctively, I hung up the phone.  Mrs. Gorecki may need to contact her mobile carrier about the dropped calls  she’s experiencing. 

            Another needle transaction.  No pretense with this one, though.  Under the intended use section of the needle/syringe log the guy wrote ‘personal use’. 

from  My Life As A Retail Pharmacist – A Fictionalized Memoir of course

Both reminded me of an incident that happened recently.  Something, I may add, that has never happened to me in my twenty-five years of retail life.

During needle transactions, we at the pharmacy are constantly reminded that Michigan IS a clean needle state.  No shit idiot.  Though if we at the pharmacy constantly reminded those purchasing said clean needles that the needles should be used for their INTENDED purpose, we would most likely be reprimanded.

That said, on with the story.

A dude – late twenties – walked up to the counter requesting a ‘ten pack of 1cc long tips’.  Of course he did.  What else would he want? A laxative? So, we only had the 0.3cc or 30 unit short tip type available.  Upon inspection and the occasional, “hmm, I’m not sure this is what Grammy”, yes, he called her Grammy, ” actually uses” .

I asked, “How many units of insulin does Grammy inject.”

Dude, shrugs his shoulders, takes out is phone, and says, “let me call her and find out.”

As entertaining as this was, I was busy and really didn’t care for this ‘display’.  Spare me the theatrics, buy the damn needles and GO AWAY.

He didn’t.

Though the phone call to Grammy was … priceless.  And blog worthy.  He even ended the conversation with “yes, I know dinner is on the stove and I love you, too.” Isn’t that the most special thing you’ve ever heard? What a nice grandson!

Really, how fucking stupid do I look?

I’m sure my rant to continue on for quite some time, but I will refrain.  I’m working on decreasing my external stressers.  Whatever the fuck that’s supposed to mean.  But I will close with two words that might decrease future sales.

Price adjustment.

Cha-Ching!

It was my idea.  However there’s nothing I can do except rant here and to anyone else that will listen, of course.  Yes, the primary focus on ‘the other one’ is the red (blood) writing.  The main character IS a doctor.  Still, IT’S MY COVER!

What’s even more discouraging is that once upon critique I was told that my cover was wrong and I needed change the title of the book.  Well, ain’t that just a how-do-ya-do slap in the face.  You can tell I didn’t listen.  It took too much blood, sweat, and tears to get to where I was – already over six months on Amazon and blogging steadily for the same amount of time.  Besides, I really liked my cover and the title.  The woman who vocalized that opinion was the cousin of a friend of a friend that blah, blah, blah somewhere and just glanced at my website for a moment.  Bitch.

I had it first,  Mr. Herman Koch writer dude.  Though Mr. Writer Dude probably had noting to do with the cover.  It was that stupid publishing house that rejected me long ago AND stole my cover that had everything to do with it.  Stupid publishing house place.  Hell, I’m just angry.  You see, this is the aspect of my life that isn’t supposed to make me angry.  Remember I work retail pharmacy – I’m angry everyday. This, this writing stuff is supposed to bring me joy and help me escape from the anger.  (Insert big sigh)

Oh, well, I need to be done for now and get on with My Life As A Retail Pharmacist.  See even angry and depressed I can be funny.

Thank you for letting me rant.  And to those I complain to in person – an even bigger thank you.

I’m talkin’ Alice Cooper, not air conditioning.  Though I’m certain that’s going to be running all too soon.  My wife will complain about the electric bill, of course.   No comment.  As far as I’m concerned, I am more than ready for this school year to be over.   Very rarely would a parent say that, knowing what is in store in the summer month ahead.   Still, I’m ready.  I’m done with six in the morning awakenings, making peanut butter and jelly sandwiches, and the fight about who’s going to sit in the front seat for the short – less than two miles short – commute to school.  You realize that I realize that I will still be making peanut butter and jelly sandwiches and my kids will still fight about the seating arrangements.  But it won’t be at six o’clock in the fucking morning.  You also realize that in no time at all I’ll  be ranting about my daughter complaining that she is bored all the time and my son wanting to drive far, far away from everyone.  One quick comment about this being bored thing.  My middle child is the only one of my children that ever complained and continues to complain about it. In a conversation with a friend, who’s family pretty much mirrors mine in age,  some years ago I mentioned this fact.  Both he and his wife are doctors. 

“Bored,” he exclaimed exasperatedly.  “I wish my kids could experience boredom.  They all attend day care programs that are scheduled almost to the minute.”

The more I thought about it, I realized being bored wasn’t so bad after all.  I just wish my daughter would come upon the same realization.

With the end of the school,  yearbooks are distributed.  I was never really a yearbook person.  I don’t think I even still have mine from high school.  Please don’t judge that fact.  I was never a fan of high school, so saving memories to commemorate it’s existence for me seemed … hypocritical?

Anyway, my wife loved high school. I only hope my kids fall somewhere in the middle.  Considering what things are like today, that is a realistic goal or simply a fact of life.

So flipping through these yearbooks, I realized the format really hasn’t changed too much over the years.  The verbiage … now that’s a different story.  Take the ‘class awards’ section

Most Likely to Succeed is now Most Likely to get their own Reality Show. Which is an unfortunate negative twist on a once positive accolade.

Best Hair is now Sickest Flow.  Unfortunately this is the award my son is lobbying for next year – his Senior  year. At least he’s not shootin’ for the above, eh? Besides, he really does have great hair.

Most Talented is now referred to as American Idols.  I don’t think they realize this is Traverse City, Michigan,

Best Dressed – what else but Fashion Forward.

Finally, Best Artist is now fondly labeled – Next DaVinci.  That one is kinda’ fun.

Well, that’s my take on the end of the school year offerings.  Remember, my rant on when is school going to start again will most likely follow shortly.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=OUugQoxS8_o

That’s about it this week.  Though I did work with a technician that actually talked to customers that way.  Let’s just say grammar was not her strongest quality.   She’s long gone, but resurrecting the post title gets us through the day sometimes.   But right now, I’m talkin’ ideas to blog about.  I’ve had a good run lately, keeping the ‘randomness’ alive.  When I brainstorm, I often think of newspaper columnists that have to write quality material on a daily basis.  I average about a post a week and that’s hard work.  I can’t imagine what those writers encounter.   Still, I’m going to complain anyway.

You see I wanted this to be special.  This is technically my 102nd post.  Television shows usually commemorate reaching the 100th aired show as a milestone; special guests, plot twists to keep the audience engaged for another 100 episodes, sit-com antics.  Cheers had a recap/interview show, Friends had Phoebe having twins.  You get the idea.  My ‘blog birthday’ is approaching, so I recap then.  As for twins – I’m too old for that shit again.

Me, I just wanted a nice, simple five-star review to post, celebrating my existence and my 100th post milestone.  I have come a long way.  I can actually copy/paste the stars now.

I ain’t got nothin’.

So, I waited another post – I already had a draft for 100.  I’m an odd number person, so celebrating 101 would’ve been fitting.

Once again, I had nothin’.

Over this twenty plus years of writing and waiting and waiting and rewriting I’ve learned to be patient.  The ironic thing is that often upon first impression, I come across as a very impatient person.  Oh, well, who cares.

Hey, I just realized in all tis ‘ I ain’t got nothin’ I actually created a post that is random and utter nonsense.

I’m referring to the light switch that is Traverse City, MI in the summer, of course.  The retailers are thankful.  It was a very long winter.  Shit some of the trees don’t even have leaves yet; buds yes, leaves no.  Unfortunately the locals had no time to enjoy their town before the summer invasion started either.  We totally skipped May and went right to mid-June.  I’m not complaining, though.  I’ve had good timing with my yard work.

That being said, I am NOT looking forward to anything that resembles the following conversation:

“Hi, I’m here from out of town and … ,”

“Just shut the fuck up,” the angry Pharmacist longs to say.  Well, I pretty much want to say that to everyone. Let’s continue with the scenario, though.  Instead the Pharmacy staff has to listen to not only where the stupid person is from, but where in the house he or she left their medication and why? *

Really, WE DON’T CARE!!

And then there’s those snowbirds.  I only have two words for them – GO BACK!

Speaking about the elderly, it reminds me of something from my book.  Bare with me if this is a repeat, but it’s so funny.  I write fiction and I can’t make this shit up.

“Oh, that reminds me.” Ron reached in his pocket.  “I know we try not to talk shop, but you gotta read this.  Found it in my mailbox with the word ‘classic’ written across the top.”

 Ron slid a small piece of paper toward me.

“I’m not sure what the scenario was, but it’s just fuckin’ hilarious.”

                        86. Dealing with a senior who proceeded to step over another senior

                        having a fatal heart attack and asked how long the wait was going to

                        be.  When he was told a man was dying on the floor, he stated that he

                        was in a hurry and couldn’t wait long. – Lauren

 I read the excerpt twice.  I was appalled that such an incident occurred, but never once doubted its validity.  It was absurdly pathetic.

“Bastard probably took his prescription and went elsewhere.”

from  My Life As A Retail Pharmacist – A Fictionalized Memoir

*By the way, they’re usually from down state, it’s usually the kitchen table and it’s usually because they really are that stupid.

During the Morning Scramble* to get to school, my daughter was preoccupied with the library book she’s reading.  Yes, it’s wonderful  she loves to read.  Ugh, I had to harp on her to pick up the pace.  Once in the car, she told me that numerous characters in the book reminded her of family members.  Then she went into school and the conversation ended, but it made me recall something my son had said just a few weeks earlier.  After church one Sunday, he stated that the priest reminded him of Kermit the Frog.   We all laughed and agreed that the priest did, in fact, have the same mannerisms as Kermit.  After that you can only imagine where the conversation strayed.  The gloves were off and EVERYONE WAS A CARTOON CHARACTER – especially me.

 Me – Apparently I remind my wife of Barney Rubble from The Flintstones.  Although, I do not have a friend named Fred or have ever said the words “Hi, ya’ doin’, Fred.”  And never will, unless she wants me to in some twisted heat of passion.  Even then it might be a bit awkward.

My kids think I’m that crazy Scientist dude Doofenschmirtz from Phineas and Ferb .  Personally, I’m insulted, but unfortunately I can see the resemblance; somewhat concerning.  But it could be worse.  Lastly, I reminded my daughter of Ivan from  The One and Only Ivan, that library book I previously mentioned.  He’s an ape.

The priest reference – Kermit the frog

My mother’s good friend – Piglet, from Winnie the Pooh.  She was always so pessimistic.

My grandmother – Rabbit from Winnie the Pooh.  Worry, work, and always carried a fork for protection.  No one messed with Gran or Rabbit for that matter.

My nephew – Patrick Star ( from SpongeBob) or Winnie the Pooh himself (or would it be itself?) – depends on what year it was.  Now he’s in college and he is your basic 18 year old teenager.

There are plenty more.  I asked a few friends to contribute, but no one could recall  anything when prompted.  I think it’s one of those ‘in the moment’ things, usually associated with alcohol or when  making fun of a customer at the pharmacy.  Unless it’s really memorable, it’s forgotten.   Wait maybe that’s more an age thing or better yet  a coping mechanism?

I included some fun Flintstone clips.  The second selection is titled The History of The Flintstones.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=yu-gMauEHso

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=vfM58SN81XI

Regardless, it’s just fun!

*The Morning Scramble –  the name of my restaurant in My … Fictionalized Memoir.

Are you ready to see that if you’d like to reach the next level of success, you must dissolve some of your fears of success?

When I first read that, I was mad.  Why on earth would anyone be afraid of success?  I’ve yearned anxiously  for that ‘break’ that will change it all for me – struggling for years in this pharmacy profession that I consider more of a waiting room than anything.  After how I’m treated by both the company AND the public it’s stretching it to call it anything else.  So I continue to wait.  You would think that for how often I think about success for my writing, it would’ve happened already.  But it still eludes me. Why? Why? Why?

So I thought about the above question and briefly researched  fears  of  success.  You’d be surprised at how twisted we as thinking individuals actually are.  Well, at least those of us that think and attempt to make our future more fulfilling.

1. Fear of Not Coping With Success

Some dude named Hugh MacLeod pointed out that success is more complex than failure.  Success takes hard work and disappointment and more hard work.  It’s been found that people really don’t want to work that hard.  Lazy bastards.

2. Fear of Selling Out

Creative individuals  have a complicated relationship with success.  The loss of  artistic integrity always looms.  To me this could be a cope out.  I don’t know.  If you want it bad enough and they want you bad enough – it will work out.

3. Fear of Becoming Someone Else

Fuck em, all.  They’re probably just jealous.  For me, I have enough reciprocated, fulfilling relationships to endure anything.  My friends want me to succeed as much as I want them to do the same.  Besides, the vast majority of people who don’t know me already think I’m an asshole. So I’s got dis category covered.

4. Success will have to be maintained or,  even worse, increased.

To me this has more to do with realistic expectations.  I am an average writer with a unique voice that knows how to entertain with the written word.  My goal is a New York Times number one Best Seller and to be on the cover of Vanity Fair someday.  Anything above that is just icng on the proverbial cake.  But, I do like cake!

Speaking of Vanity Fair, the recent issue spotlighted  Sting.  He stated that he just had an eight year ‘drought’ of creative energy.  Instead of wallowing, he accepted the ‘block’ for what it was and went back to his roots.  Now, he has a play that’s opening up in Chicago, then New York.

So, my wife and I are huge greeting card freaks.   In other words, I buy and send a shit load of cards.  So much so, that I should have stock in Hallmark, but I just never got around to it.  Though I’m certain there’s a section of cards for that.  Those on the coveted mailing list really do appreciate receiving the cards; primarily birthday and anniversary.  The nice thing is, sometimes it promotes a return note or even a phone call.  Regardless, it’s  much nicer than getting another bill.

Personally I usually gravitate toward those cards that are ‘Simply Stated’.  I can’t even browse the ‘Between You and Me’ section without either   coffee,  alcohol or both.  Those cards are like novels – it’s like get to the point, already.

Since Mother’s Day  is right around the corner, I  found myself down the aisle doing the annual deed.  What I found, though, was … unsettling.  Shoebox is a subsidiary of Hallmark.  Usually this line of cards pushes the envelope, pun intended and unintended; sometimes raunchy, mostly just fun.  I have often purchased cards from this line.  Be this as it may, the offerings from Shoebox for Mother’s Day were borderline offensive.  It’s Mother’s Day.  That’s like the pedestal of Hallmark holidays.  To commemorate the sanctity of the occasion with the ‘greetings’ below is just wrong.  Fathers take a lot of shit and sometimes for good reasons, especially if said father is the ‘baby daddy’ type.  Thus chiding them is funny.  Lately, some mothers that I see at the pharmacy and hear about on the news are disturbingly questionable.  But come on … .  It’s still Mother’s Day!

A Mother’s love never fails

                                                     but Birth Control does.  Happy Mother’s Day from your “LITTLE ACCIDENT”

A world without moms is a world that would suck

                                                    thanks for making my world a better place – Happy Mother’s Day

Being a mom is the Best thing that you can’t undo

                                                        ever

By the way, that last entry didn’t even say Happy Mother’s Day anywhere on the card.

I’ve often said my sense of humor has been sucked dry from working retail.  So,I  find great solace in ‘the raunchy comedy that is life’ .  However, none of those Shoebox sayings are remotely humorous to me, jaded as I am.

Therefore, I will choose the high road here, ending with ‘Simply Stated’ message –

Happy Mother’s Day

Last night I finally saw the Ben Stiller remake of The Secret Life of Walter Mitty.   As you know, I love the short story. I even posted HWWMR back on 04-27-2013.  I was hesitant to see the film, but assured by every member of my family that it was, indeed, wonderful.  They had the privilege of seeing it over Spring Break at the State Theatre.  I did not.  Yes, seeing things on the big screen, especially The State Theatre big screen, enhances any viewing experience.  Since that was not the case for me, I had to settle for our television.

Well, I think I missed something.

I wanted to be moved.  Instead I was slightly entertained.

Don’t get me wrong, the scenery was absolutely amazing even on the smaller screen.   The message was clear; just not as cathartic as I anticipated.  But what tripped me up the most is that I got hung up on two pivotal events that made me question the creative motives of both Stiller, the director and star, and the screenwriter.

ATTENTION: SPOILER ALERT

First – Why have so much emphasis on the piano only to sell the damn thing without what appears to be a concern just a few scenes later?

Second – Why did he ‘pitch’ the wallet in the garbage? I realize he was frustrated.  He was just fired and failed to acquire the ‘grail’ he saught.  Then he told the giver of said wallet that he did what he had done?! That was gut wrenching for me.  I realize that these actions advanced the storyline, but I still question the reasoning.  Being a writer, that is what I do, though.  I get the “look inside” and “quintessence of LIFE” metaphors, but to tell someone you admired and respected for close to two decades that you discarded such a thoughtful, purposeful gift … .  Ugh! I guess when someone wants to turn  My Life  As A  Retail Pharmacist into a Fictionalized  Movie I will surely demand creative control.

View From The Top is a hilarious movie that is actually one of my family’s go to comedies.  For the purpose of this post, it is the other thing that makes me go hmmm.   Yes, Gwyneth Paltrow, the star of the movie has done numerous things lately that probably make everyone go hmmm.  Can you say ‘consciously uncoupling parties’?  But that is not what I plan to comment upon.

Paltrow stated in a post movie interview that View From The Top was the worst movie she had done or the biggest mistake of her career or something to that nature.  I researched briefly to get the complete scoop, but I couldn’t find the appropriate interview spot.   That said, I completely disagree.  Paltrow takes what would have been a B-rated movie and elevates it to comedic … not really genius, but it’s pretty damn funny.  The scene below is my daughter’s favorite.  Also, it’s ironic.   I don’t think Gwyneth Paltrow eats bread.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=4pPaMbyMOlg

Back in December of 2012 I blogged about the ‘Words of Wisdom’ area businesses placed on their marquees.  Just like me, everyone has  a comment about something.  So, once again, I decided to comment on their wisdom.  Since the pickin’s were slim, remember we are in that transitional time of year, I decided to include the video of a popular song.  Think of it as an added bonus.

LIVE YOUR LIFE SO YOU WON’T HAVE TO HIDE YOUR DIARY

Unfortunately, some people need to hide their diaries regardless.  The more I thought about this, I realized the reverse was also true.  If you led this boring-ass life, you really have nothing to hide.   No one’s going to want to read something that lame.  Take my life for example.  It’s relatively quiet; normally a snooze fest.  I even get bored.  I kinda’ like that though.  That’s why I like writing so much.  I can “Fictionalize” any  “Memoir” therefore transforming “My Life” into a wonderful e-book.  My problem is that I actually want people to read it.  So if you haven’t picked up a copy yet -please do so.  Just click that book cover icon over to the right.

OUR ROADS ARE HOLIER THAN THE NEW POPE.

Yes, I realize the Pope has been around for close to a year already, but, like I said, the pickin’ were slim.  Originally, I placed this in my ‘blog ideas’ file a while back and decided now was as good a time as any.  The bad news for Traverse is that the Road Commission has probably already run out of money from the long winter to even think about fixing those potholes.  Eighth Street between Woodmere and Boardman is beyond awful.  This works quite well for  Juniors Tires, a local tire realtor.  Their location is smack dab in the middle of pothole hell.  Coincidence? I think not.   Since I’ve already been there once, it just doesn’t matter.

On to that song I referenced in the title.

Pompeii by the band Bastille is awesome.  Well until it gets killed by the radio and we get sick of listening to it that is.  But for now, it’s way awesome.  Even more awesome is this video I found.  The song is performed live with a violin orchestra.  WOW – COOL!

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=aCU7o9sNy6E

I also decided that some of the lyrics could be  potential marquee material.

How am I gonna be an optimist about this?

Oh where do we begin?
The rubble or our sins?

Alone or separate, either way those lines rock.

Enjoy

P.S. At post time Roy’s General store had something very fun on their marquee.  I really don’t think it would be qualified as Words of Wisdom by any means, but it is … informative?!

WE HAVE GALVANIZED NIPPLES