Thursday, August 25, 2016

The Other Side of the Counter

In all the years I've been blogging, I never really talked about my "day job". Not because I didn't enjoy it (I did, though it was often very stressful), but rather because this blog was a place to focus on the things that gave me the most joy in life: cycling, crafting, wildflowers, words, friends, family, food.

But today I will break the habit of years and talk about what was my day job - because suddenly, without warning, it's been taken away.

This is a tribute to the last eight-and-a-half years of my working life; to the dear co-worker who, like me, is suddenly jobless; and to the people we served whom we might not see again.

~

For many of you, a pharmacy technician is just a person behind a counter who takes your prescription, types something into a computer, grabs a bottle of pills off a shelf, counts some out, puts them in another bottle, and adds a label with your name.

Here is what the view was like from the other side of that counter....

We were the pharmacy technicians in your village pharmacy. When you saw us tapping away at the keyboard, we were entering the information needed to process your prescription so you'd get the right medicine, at the right dose, and be charged the right price.

We were the ones who deciphered your doctor's indecipherable scrawl, and translated prescription directions from Latin abbreviations into straightforward English. When your prescription ran out, we contacted your doctor to ask for more; if your doctor didn't respond, we kept trying until we heard back and got you what you needed.

We were the ones who ordered all those pills you saw on the shelves behind us. Every day we had to order the right drugs, in the right amounts, at the right price, and from the right place. If we didn't order enough, we'd run short and you would suffer the lack. If we ordered too many, or from the wrong place, the business would suffer from having too much or too pricey an inventory on the shelf. It was our job to keep the balance.

We were the ones who spent hours on the phone with insurance companies, trying to get problem claims processed and medicines paid for. We were the ones who quietly gasped when a huge copay showed up with your name on it. Often we'd ask the pharmacist if he could call the doctor to recommend something that wouldn't cost you so much, or we'd search the internet to see if there were a coupon for that expensive brand-name drug.

We were the ones who sat down with your elderly mom to help her through the maze of Medicare. We were the ones who took a few minutes to chat on the phone with your shut-in dad, while work was piling up. We were the ones who tried to explain to you why your insurance was doing what it was doing, and why your medicine cost what it did.

We were the ones who sent you a card when we heard you were in the hospital. We were the ones who cheered you on when you were trying to quit smoking or lose weight for your health. We were the ones who heartily congratulated you when you stopped a medication because your health had improved. We were the ones who rejoiced with you when your hair grew back after chemo.

We were the ones who asked about your vacation, and really listened to the answer. We were the ones who loved hearing stories from your childhood, or tales from your military service. We were the ones you showed your knitting and quilt tops and surgery scars to. When you were out for a walk and saw us walking to work, you stopped us on the sidewalk to ask for refills. And when we got to work, we remembered your request and got the refills ready.

We were the ones who happily watched your tummy bump grow as you came in for prenatal vitamins. We were the ones who loved to see your babies after they were born, while hoping we didn't have to see them too often. (We'd rather they be healthy and not need any prescriptions.)

We were the ones who prayed for you when we saw your black eye and the bruise on your arm as you picked up your husband's medication.

We were the ones who delivered your meds when you weren't able to drive and had no one to help. We were the ones who, if we found you asleep, gently laid down the bag and tiptoed out.

We were the ones who shed a quiet tear when we got the order for opiates for a dying patient. We were the ones who walked out from behind the counter to hug you when your family member passed away. We were the ones who, six months later, remembered your loss and asked how you were doing.

I'm sure there were times when we seemed stressed out. A customer might have yelled at us, or maybe we'd just hung up from a profitless half-hour call to an insurance company. Maybe an order didn't come in time. Maybe patients were stacking up and the pharmacist wasn't keeping up. Maybe our knees were hurting, or we were worried about our own sick family members. But our goal was always to serve you as best and as quickly as we could.

You probably never realised it, but if you came in regularly, you were almost like family to us. You were part of our lives, and we were honoured to feel that in a very small way we were also part of yours.

~

Being pharmacy technicians was not something I or my co-worker planned on or were educated for. It was something we both fell into and grew into. We thought we did a decent job. We know that we loved helping our patients and being part of their lives.

Now that's gone. We're back on the other side of the counter. And it's hard.

Happier days  - Halloween 2009
(I am the pirate on the right)

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

55 comments:

  1. Oh Sue, I am so sorry. If you were anything like our pharmacy techs I know you were wonderful.

    ReplyDelete
    Replies
    1. Thanks Janet. And I'm glad to hear that you have great pharmacy techs! :)

      Delete
  2. Oh My! Thanks for this view from the other side. I needed that. But so sorry for your not being able to continue you to work there - You sound like one in a million

    ReplyDelete
    Replies
    1. Thank you so much. There were a lot of job details that I left out - technical stuff that would have made an already-long post just way too long! But again, thank you for your kind words. I really miss our patients. :|

      Delete
  3. I'm so sorry to hear that you lost your job.. I do hope that you can get one in another place. Which one is you in the photo? Hang in there! ((hugs)), Teresa :-)

    ReplyDelete
    Replies
    1. Thanks Teresa. I'm the fierce-looking pirate on the right. We didn't dress up every year for Halloween, but the years we did it was so much fun. :)

      Delete
  4. Im so sorry. I love my walgreens pharmacy folk. I brought them a tray of cupcakes at Christmas. They seemed embarassed but so thankful. You have made a huge difference in every patient's life. Perhaps there will be a silver lining? I will pray for one

    ReplyDelete
    Replies
    1. Thanks Kathy. People used to bring us trays of cookies every year at Christmas, and we loved it. One patient brought us cookies all year round. He was a 60s music buff and liked to sing snatches of obscure 60s-70s songs to see if we could guess the name of the band. Sometimes he'd sing an entire song if the lyrics included one of our names or mentioned sisters (my sister works there too). Writing this is making me cry and I thought I was done crying about this!
      Thank you again.

      Delete
  5. Oh my goodness, I am sorry about the loss of your job, Sue! What a shock it must have been for you! Now, hang in there, I know something is better in store for you. (I am a bit psychic, so you need to believe me!)
    One of my first jobs was working at a drug store and in those old days, we were allowed to go and get the drugs ourselves and put them with the prescription and the pharmacist would count out the pills and TYPE the labels himself! (I am old, my dear!
    What the employees have to deal with now, regarding the GOUGING of the American people from the INSURANCE companies, I just cannot imagine how difficult it must be!
    Keep us posted on how things are for you. Think of all the people in your corner and count me as one of them! Love, Kay

    ReplyDelete
    Replies
    1. Thanks so much, Kay. I know that God will provide; He always has and always will.

      I've met many of those "old-school" pharmacists (as we called them), though by now many have retired. I've heard the stories of typewritten labels and the days before POS (place-of-service - kind of means "on the spot") billing. It was always so interesting to hear how the industry had changed over the decades. Some things are better nowadays but I thing some things might have gotten worse!

      Regarding insurance companies: it was often hard for us to convince patients that we didn't set the price for their prescription - their insurance company did. We were just the go-between. And I don't think customers have any idea of how narrow an operating margin many pharmacies work on. The profit margin on many claims is just pennies over what the drug costs the store to buy, and this year there have been tons of claims which actually lost the store money - by which I mean the insurance company payment + patient's copay added up to LESS than the actual cost of the drug! It's a difficult industry.
      Thanks again for your encouragement.

      Delete
  6. I suspect this was an independent pharmacy, thus the closing--how sad. Try to find care and consideration of that level in a large chain store. Hope you can soon locate something that fits your needs and personality.

    ReplyDelete
    Replies
    1. It was an independent pharmacy, but was bought by a chain some years ago. It's still not a big-box pharmacy, but in kind of an uneasy transitional phase between the two, as the chain continues to grow.
      The store is still open. My co-worker and I were just out-of-the-blue fired on the same day. :|
      Thank you for your kind wishes!

      Delete
  7. I've been on your side of the counter albeit in a different part of the service industry. When my job disappeared, I felt at sea, adrift and bereft. I've often wondered if my customers had any inkling how I've thought about them, worried about how they're doing, if they're all right. It's hard to be so abruptly cut off from people you've grown to care about. I hope you find something that gives you the same satisfaction and sense of community that this job did.

    ReplyDelete
    Replies
    1. Wow, you've described my feelings EXACTLY. Every word hits the target. I do feel at sea. Just reading your comment makes me cry. :|
      Thanks for putting it all into fewer words than I could, and thanks so much for your kind wishes.

      Delete
  8. I've been on your side of the counter albeit in a different part of the service industry. When my job disappeared, I felt at sea, adrift and bereft. I've often wondered if my customers had any inkling how I've thought about them, worried about how they're doing, if they're all right. It's hard to be so abruptly cut off from people you've grown to care about. I hope you find something that gives you the same satisfaction and sense of community that this job did.

    ReplyDelete
  9. I am sorry to hear of your loss. Grief does seem to come in all forms. and yes, you lovely people are the ones that help take care of us and remember us at all different points of our lives. Our local pharmacy that I loved , the couple who were both pharmacists and the lovely ladies that worked for them I knew for years. I have missed them dearly since the store was bought out. I wish you well and hope that valuable trained individuals as your self and your co-worker will be snapped up quickly.

    ReplyDelete
    Replies
    1. Thank you so much. Honestly I don't know if I'll want to work in this industry again - where I live there aren't many choices - but I do hope for something that will offer the "sense of community" mentioned by Kim in the comment above.
      Grief - yes. Definitely experiencing the stages of grief.
      Thank you again for the encouraging words.

      Delete
  10. What a wonderful write-up about your job. I do hope that you will find something that you love to replace the job you recently lost.

    ReplyDelete
    Replies
    1. Thank you Sandra. I so appreciate my across-the-water online friends and their comforting words of support!

      Delete
  11. I'm so sorry - it sounds like an interesting job that you obviously loved. I hope you get something else similar/equally interesting soon!

    ReplyDelete
    Replies
    1. Thanks so much Ginny. I hope you're doing well! With all the time on my hands this week, I should have been visiting blogs, including yours. Instead I'm wandering around like a lost person, struggling to decide what to cook for Mr. M's lunch. (Pretty pathetic, isn't it?) :/
      Thank you again.

      Delete
  12. So sorry to hear that! I love my pharmacy folks and you sound like you really cared about your customers. They say losing a job can be a little like losing a loved one in terms of how you process grief. Please take care of yourself for all of us out here.

    ReplyDelete
    Replies
    1. Thanks so much! And yes, the grief process seems to be surprisingly similar. I always appreciated having a job, but now I see that I kind of took for granted that it would go on and on. Definitely a learning experience.
      Thank you again for the sympathy and encouragement.

      Delete
  13. I can relate to everything that you have written because my daughter is a pharmacist manager and of course I hear all about the daily goings on in her pharmacy. I'm so sorry to hear that you have lost your job and hope that you find something that you like just as much if not more. Something good will turn up I'm sure. :) xxx

    ReplyDelete
    Replies
    1. Thank you Linda. I was telling Mr. M this morning that the original Mr. Micawber's catchphrase was "Something will turn up." I know it will. Maybe it will even be better. Thanks so much for your friendship and your always cheery comments!

      Delete
  14. Oh, my. I'm so sorry. Is there anyone you would like me to butt for you? Or perhaps I can sic the dreaded Alpine on them.

    ReplyDelete
    Replies
    1. Well I'd better not say anything about the butting offer ... so I'll just say thank you and I'm looking forward to seeing you in a couple of weeks! :)

      (Note to self: pack peanuts.)

      Delete
  15. I am so sorry. Reading your post and the comments make me realize just how many caring people are in every profession but are often overlooked. I lost my job out of the blue almost 9 years ago. Very sudden and unexpected, just like you, and I was lost for quite some time until I found my happiness in charity work. Luckily we were debt free and my sweet Hubby said I could do anything I wanted. I LOVE being home after so many years in the workplace. I pray you find something that makes your heart sing. You are such a compassionate and loving woman, I just know you will be blessed with the perfect job if you want one. I'll be praying for you.
    Blessings,
    Betsy

    ReplyDelete
    Replies
    1. Thank you Betsy! Lost is certainly the word for how I feel right now. We are debt free (thank God) but certainly can't afford to live indefinitely without some kind of steady income. So keep praying, and again, thank you so much for the encouragement.

      Delete
  16. So very sorry that you've lost your job, it's a horrible thing to have to go through. I'm sending you my very best wishes, you're in my thoughts. CJ xx

    ReplyDelete
    Replies
    1. Thank you, CJ. All these kind comments from you and other blogging friends have made me feel so very grateful. Thank you again.

      Delete
  17. Oh my goodness, your eloquent post reminds me of when I suddenly lost my job (but this was in 1997, and I was 55) and I slowly went broke, by 2003.
    I then sold my condo and came back from that. Now I am retired and again living "paycheck" to "paycheck" I get SSDI!! I love being retired tho-you however are probably way younger than me and must work--good luck Sue (I'm new to your blog)!

    ReplyDelete
    Replies
    1. Thank you for your understanding and your kind wishes! I'm so sorry to hear about what happened to you. Living on a fixed income can't be easy. Mr. M and I have spent years living on a pretty low income so in one sense we don't have a lot to lose right now. God has been good and we've never lacked for anything.

      Best wishes to you and thank you again for your kind comment.

      Delete
  18. I should add, I was fired, which made me feel AWFUL...

    ReplyDelete
  19. This is bad news. I'm so sorry. I know that I would love having you on the other side of the counter (although I'm a healthy one). Hopefully, you will find a new work place that is worth having you. All the best! Regula

    ReplyDelete
    Replies
    1. Thank you, Regula. I would love to be able to serve you! But I'm glad you're healthy and don't need a lot of prescriptions. Thank you so much for being such a good online friend.

      Delete
  20. I have had a similar experience, though many years ago now. I found my new 'counter job' at the public library. You build relationships with patrons without the insurance hassles. I highly recommend it. I was surprised at the staff turnover there too, so there may be an unexpected opening. To top it off, it came with health benefits and a retirement plan. Best of luck. And hugs, lots of hugs.

    ReplyDelete
    Replies
    1. That's an idea: relationships, no insurance hassles, and lots of books! I will keep my eyes open....

      Thank you so much for your caring words.

      P.S. I hopped over to your blog and I have to say your post "I need to..." totally describes my life right now! Were you ever able to make progress on that list?

      Delete
  21. That is terrible. I lost my job in March when I took voluntary redundancy as an alternative to a job that no longer existed except in a much altered form at a much lower salary. I really feel for you and I hope you enjoy some well earned time off to do the things that give you the most joy. Thinking of you Mrs M.
    ps we really value our pharmacists in the village, they are a vital service.

    ReplyDelete
    Replies
    1. Thank you! I hope you (and Nu) are doing well, and that things have cleared up in your village after the floods of last winter.

      I think you wrote about your job before; I'm so sorry for what you went through. Thank you again for your caring wishes.

      Delete
  22. So so sorry to hear about this abrupt change in your life. I am still convinced that everything happens for a reason. Keep your eyes and ears open for that next work opportunity. As with your previous job, perhaps you have never studied or trained for your future one. But knowing you, this part of your life will also be a success. And we are all looking forward to your cycling adventure coming up real soon. Linda@Wetcreek Blog

    ReplyDelete
    Replies
    1. Thanks so much, Linda! Thank you. (All these kind comments are making me cry but perhaps that's a good thing.) I hope that while I have some free time I can be more diligent about visiting my blog friends. To be honest it's a struggle right now to focus on anything.

      I hope things are starting to cool off for you in Louisiana....

      Delete
  23. Oh Sue, I am so sorry although that isn't enough is it? I agree with you on everything you have said. I live in a busy area, Target pharmacy is my choice, everyone who works there makes me feel like they know me and they care. Jason, the head pharmacist puts down the gates or "garage doors" as Little Buddy calls them every time we visit, no matter how busy they are. I would miss them all so much if they left, or worse as your case were let go. I hope you can find an even better place to work, but I know that may take some time.
    Sending you a hug,
    Meredith

    ReplyDelete
    Replies
    1. Thanks Mere. I am running out of words for all the kindness and compassion people have shown. "Thank you" doesn't seem enough.

      I'm so glad to hear that you're well taken care of at your pharmacy! They would probably miss you as much as you would miss them, if they couldn't see you any more.

      Sending a hug back.

      Delete
  24. I am so sorry sweet friend. I have no doubt you are awesome at any job you do. I know for a fact that any line of work that involves working with the public is always a hard and thankless job. I will keep you in my prayers sweet friend that a new and better job will be pop up very soon for you and all the others, too. :) Bless you.

    ReplyDelete
    Replies
    1. Thanks Vicki. It was sometimes hard, sometimes thankless, but there were lots of good times too. I suspect it's like any health-related profession: the joy and satisfaction lie in helping people; the frustrations come from red tape and procedural craziness.

      Thank you for your prayers and your kind words!

      Delete
  25. Well, I suspected you are Super Woman, Sue, and now I know it! I so admire your writing, photography, stitching, and cycling and now my admiration for you is greater yet knowing that you have also, faithfully served as a pharmacy technician on top of caring for your family and friends! I appreciate your multiple gifts and am cheering you on to the next perfect provision the Lord has for you and your hubby. Know that you regularly are in my thoughts with love, and that I am asking the Lord to bless you. xx

    ReplyDelete
    Replies
    1. Thanks so much, Gracie. Knowing that people are praying for us is a comfort and somehow very humbling.

      Definitely not Super Woman! But thank you for the compliment. :)

      Delete
  26. I want to say thank you for all your thoughtfulness and caring on behalf of all those who you have helped. When I am the one being helped, my simple thank you might not be heard, when I am sick and grumpy and in pain and impatient I appreciate how much patience you have and I'm sorry for not trying harder to be nice.

    ReplyDelete
    Replies
    1. Oh gosh, I'm sure there are times when it worked both ways! We did try to remember that our patients who suffered chronic pain weren't always able to be cheery and positive. Believe me, even a quiet "thank you" goes a long way, no matter how grumpy or impatient you think you might have seemed. I'm sorry to think that there were times I might have been impatient with someone who needed help and who was suffering. We're all human and none of us is perfect.

      Thank you so much for your comment - it means a lot to me. I hope that if you have pain it's being managed as well as possible.

      Delete
  27. Hello Sue.. and I am really sorry to know what happened. I hope you are okay now and will find some comfort in your hobbies. I am sure your work was and is appreciated by those with whom you had an opportunity to meet and interact.
    Have a nice day in spite of anything!

    Hugs!

    ReplyDelete
    Replies
    1. Thank you, Anna! Not okay yet, but getting there. :) Today at the bank I saw some ladies who shopped at the pharmacy. I told them what happened, and thanked them for being such nice customers and for making my job so pleasant. Tears all around. And hugs.
      Thank you again for your kind wishes. I hope your little prince is doing well!

      Delete
  28. Oh my dear, I am so sad to hear this news. Sending hugs and positive thoughts your way. xx

    ReplyDelete
    Replies
    1. Thanks so much, TA. I so appreciate the kindness of my friends right now! It's just as well so many of the hugs are "virtual"; the tangible ones tend to make me cry.

      Hope you're doing well. Thank you again.

      Delete

I love comments! Speak on....