Thursday, April 28, 2011

Code B at the Walmart

I've written before about how I detest dragging my sweet little terrorists to Walmart before; however, yesterday something happened that really made me turn from a nice Christian woman to a Tasmanian devil in PMS. My little lovelies have been suffering from a virus that's like a three for one deal... pink eye, ear infection, and flu-like symptoms all rolled up into one big ball o' fun, so at their checkup yesterday at Chez Doctor, they prescribed an antibiotic for Hannah, who, despite the fact that they were all deaf from infections, was the only one who required aggressive treatment. So off we trecked to the local Walmart at 10:30, and when they told me it would be a 45 minute wait, I cringed at the thought of coming back for another visit there, but decided it would be better than wandering around the place trying to contain my voice to low tones whilst threatening three little howler monkeys (who, mind you are deaf, and therefore exponentially louder than usual) in the cart to "Stop touching each other! We do NOT spit at people, especially family! Do NOT lick the shopping cart handle! No we are not going to buy pork rinds simply because we don't have any! Puhleeeeeze stop 'Not touching!' your sister!" etc. etc. So we left for lunch and naps to return later.

At 3:30 we ventured back, with the promise to my deafened little dears that if they behave I would let them have extra-fun playtime activities when they got home. I was almost chipper... we'd get the rx, go home, have some fun, and I'd get dinner on and all would be perfect and Suzy-homemaker-y and happy. Then the checkout lady looked me straight in the face and without a smidge of apology in her voice said, "oh, we're out of stock for that drug"...

Now, please understand, I have a reputation with my husband for being a major wuss. My dear Ryan can make sales associates pee their pants with a word of dissapointment from him, but I am the sort to back down from any and all confrontations... most of the time. However, when I heard the pharmacy lady say this, I turned from this:

to this:before you could say, "Oh Snap!"


At this point the checker stepped back and you could almost hear her signalling, "Code B at the checkout counter! Alert! Alert! We have a CODE B! Crazy -itch at the checkout counter!"

The manager appeared, and I explained my ploit: "I'm told you are out of stock for Augmentin. How is it I had to schlep three sick kids down to the Walmart pharmacy, which I'm pretty sure is one of Dante's CIRCLES OF HELL, not once but twice in one day, only to find out you couldn't pick up the phone and call me in the 6 hours you've had my prescription sitting out."

Her reply, "Um, are you part of our auto-text program, because we can tell you this info by text in the future if this ever happens again"

"Happens AGAIN!? Are you saying this is a normal occurance?! And yes, so you know, I am a part of that program, but even if I weren't, you have like a MILLION copies of my information on that little computer of yours and you're saying you can't call me at home instead of texting if there's a problem?! Did I mention I have THREE sick kids here in this cart, and that this has RUINED my evening. Do you have any idea how difficult it is to manage three small people on a good day, let alone manage to keep them from sucking up every rogue germ in this place while in the pharmacy section here?"

"Yes, maam. I know it must be hard, I have a kid myself so I know it's tough"...

At this point I had to restrain myself not to put my shoe up her nose. Please don't get me wrong, Mom's-of-one, but it is exponentially harder wrangling two or more people in a shopping cart, let alone the overly-loud, virus-crazed grumps I had yesterday.

"Maam, I'm going to call another Walmart and see if they have this in stock."... this was followed by 20 minutes of Walmart-hell-waiting while she whispered frenzily over the phone to someone else. "Maam, they have this Rx at another Walmart (which is a half hour away)... they'll have it ready for you in a half hour when you get there. Again, so sorry."

I might have cried at this point.

I loaded three sad, dissapointed little grumpies into the car for another trip in rush hour traffic, only to repeat the same routine of "Please, you can't all hold my hand in the parking lot at once, please stop wrestling your sister's hand, no we can't visit the bathroom just to see if they have awesome auto-flush toilets, please be good I'msorryIcan'tgetyouhomeintimetoplayyyyyyy!" a half hour after the origional version in another Walmart parking lot. At the front of the line, I'm told, "Oh, we told them (the other Walmart pharmacy people) we'd have to contact your doctor before we can begin filling this." I definitely cried at this point. Then I explained my situation and begged for help because I knew this was not THIS pharmacy's fault, but what I needed now was mercy, assistance, Augmentin, and a big fricken bottle of xanax for my nerves. My Rx was done after another 30 mins in the waiting area, whilst my children mopped up every germ in the place and the people in line scowled angrily at me for making their wait longer by insisting my stuff be pushed to the front of the que.

We left at 3:30, and arrived home to my parent's house, who were kind enough to prepare dinner, at 6. Needless to say I'm transferring my prescriptions elsewhere and having words with higher-ups today, but since this blog is here for me to vent occaisionally, please allow me to do so. And please feel free to vent along with me... I know we've all been there! It's just rare for me to turn from a confrontation-hating wimp to an angry she-wolverine who could have made Kim Jong Il or Kadhaffi piss themselves and retreat, but I guess all of us have a breaking point. Oh snap!

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