Day Eleven

Pharmacy politics again.

A mini-meeting had already taken place since Freida's arrival. She's wonderful and I love working with her, but on more than several occasions she has made other staff want to eat their own heads.

Yesterday a young girl approached the dispensary asking for Digesic tablets. She didn't have a script, and we didn't have her details on file.

Usually no pharmacy would give a patient prescription medication without a script. The only exception is when a regular customer is desperately needing a dose of their regular medicine, in which case we'd process the script as an owing and trust that they'll bring the real one in within a week.

In yesterday's case, we didn't know the girl's medication history. We've never seen her before. Who knows if it's safe for her to take Digesic, and who knows if she'd come back or disappear off the face of the earth.

The girl asked Freida whether she could have a box of Digesic. She said she could call her doctor who would give us the dosage instructions. Freida spoke to the doctor and took down both his and the girl's details. We gave her the medication.

Mirjana was furious. On the piece of paper Freida gave us were the girl's name, address and mobile phone number, along with the doctor's name and mobile phone number. No landline. No address. No prescriber number. For all we know he could have been a pastry chef.

Everything else could have been completely made-up, and it probably was because she never came back.

Mirjana was still fuming over this incident when Freida self-prescribed a couple of Normisons and took them home this afternoon.

I have a feeling another Freida-based meeting is looming in the very near future.

In other news I'm being bullied into finally producing that portrait of John.

Not that I haven't tried. It's just that John's head keeps turning out like a hard-boiled egg, and I'm not in the mood to be fired.

I'm out of excuses. All this time I've been blaming the absence of finished-portrait on not remembering what he looks like once I leave work. Today he made me take a photo of his face. I now have a picture of my boss in my phone. Creepy.