Tales of the (Mail Order) Pharmacy

So, every day, all day, I sit on the phone, with a headset on, talking to Baby Boomers who hate my generation and think us at fault for everything. (I say "my" generation, but there are people here who are definitely younger, that also are at fault for everything.) I get yelled at, I get sworn at, I would probably get things thrown at me if they could.

People - meaning members - call in for us to fix their problems. When we say we can't, they turn into entitled 3 year olds. When you deny them anything they start rolling on the ground, kicking their feet and throwing a fit!

So, this is my job. This is what I do. I don't even see the medications, but it's my fault when something goes wrong. Like, it can't be anyone else's fault. Not the Doc's, not human error, just mine/whoever is unfortunate enough to get on the phone with them.

And then there are the ones that are like "I want to speak to a supervisor/pharmacist." Not politely either. It's usually snapped, and then repeated at volume, repeatedly. Like, people, shouting won't make you get there any faster. I can help you. Let me do it. Let me do my job.

But no. Supervisors or pharmacists. That's it.

Just be polite to people on the phone. They're human too.