here today

 

getting drugs.

It's amazing how often it helps to be white and well-educated and certain of your rights.

Case in point:  My encounter just now with a pharmacist, a phone and The System.

It all started with a migraine.  Possibly brought on by watching Our President talk about Armies of Compassion and "paygo" last night.  Or perhaps because my coworker is on vacation and for three days I'm in charge of underwriting.  What does that mean? you ask.  So far, it means cripplingly boring phone conversations with stupid unhelpful people.  And lots of paperwork.  And it requires attention to detail.  I am not good at attention to detail.  I am good at witty banter.  I also make a decent stirfry.  Making sure that the right piece of paper goes to the right person in the right way...? not my strong suit.

So, migraine.  Head hurt bad.  And, of course, I was out of my pills.  Out of them because I always think, optimistically, that I won't get another migraine ever and so I don't refill my prescription until I'm driving to the pharmacy with one eye closed clutching the steering wheel in pain.  Which is what I did about an hour ago.

Upon arrival, the pharmacist tells me that it will be $180 to refill my prescription.  Even with the pain, I know that's not right.  I work for an insurance agency.  One of the only good things about this job is that I have prescription drug coverage.  I tell her to check again and she comes back with the information that the system is saying I'm over my limit.  But, of course, this is impossible.  I am Not Over My Limit.

At this point, if I were someone other than a white girl who is used to getting what she wants, and who spends her days navigating The System, I would have given up.  My head was throbbing, I didn't have $180, the computer is always right and the pharmacist looked official (and slightly pitying) in her white coat.  But I am a white girl.  With a cell phone.  And an ivy league degree in something that mattered to me ten years ago.  So, I called lots of people.  Until I got someone who would help.  And she explained that the pharacist was an idiot who was entering information incorrectly and that the solution was simple.  I walked back inside Walgreens brandishing my phone, got my drugs and am currently stoned, happy and no longer in pain.

Apologies if this is a confused rant.  My brain has been hijacked by Maxalt.  hooray.

Posted by: 120pages at 13:25 | link | comments (1) |