At Least It Isn't Pinkeye

Today started early and is (clearly) ending late. I'm in the middle of a two-day meeting at work, but I guess the plus here is the overtime. During a break today I squeezed in a doctor's appointment because my eyes have been red and itchy forever, and I have a conference next month, and I really didn't want it to develop into anything contagious on the road. You know.

The good news (I think) is that all I needed was a prescription for some antihistamine eye drops and they sent me on my way. But in the pharmacy, a dude about my dad's age pitched a fit.

Pharmacy technician: "I'm sorry, sir, but your prescription still isn't ready. If you'd like to wait, it should be about twenty more minutes."

Cranky fit pitcher: "No, I don't want to wait! I already waited! I left, and I came back!"

PT (getting uncomfortable): "I apologize sir, but we're very busy today? If you'd like I can give you a pager?"

CFP: "No! I don't want a pager! I don't want to wait around here. That's why I left, and came back, and it should be ready. Jesus Christ...fricka fracka...mumble...cuss..." (at this point he was stomping away and I was walking quickly so as not to get stuck in the entryway with him).

For what it's worth, I waited. And read the same copy of Parenting magazine (IT WAS ALL THEY HAD. DON'T JUDGE. But now I'm paranoid about kids I don't have yet choking someday and needing to know how to Heimlich a kindergartner and also keep them from watching too much Nickeloeon [NO SUCH THING]) that was there the last time I picked up prescriptions in December. I don't even want to think about how many people have thumbed through it during flu season.

So I might not have had pinkeye going into that place, but I may very well have left with it.