Anger and Jeggings.

So there’s this thing called anger.  The other day my girlfriend and I had a run in with some serious amounts of it in a drug store.  After leaving the hospital where my girlfriend was diagnosed with a kidney infection that needed some serious prescription meds to help her get over it, we went to a nearby CVS to pick it up.  At first it seemed routine.  We gave the pharmacist our prescription and sat down to wait for it to be filled.  Then, while waiting, we were confronted with the frustration of an adjacent customer. “How long did she tell you your thing would take?”  Said a woman who had been seated and waiting before we had even got there.  “She said it would take fifteen minutes” I replied with the spirit of anyone who wishes to engage in conversation with a complete stranger at 11 o’clock PM.  She continued however, and as soon as possible used this encounter to convey to me that she was in terrible discomfort.   “You’ll be waiting twice that long. I’ve been waiting here for fifty minutes for a prescription that was supposed to take a mere thirty five minutes.  If they don’t do something in five minutes I’m going to do something.  I’m serious!  It’s these stupid interns they have no idea what they’re doing!”  I nod and acknowledge that my ears in the course of this one way conversation had not been sliced off.   Sure enough thirty seconds later, she gets up and goes over to the counter and begins to yell at the worker.  “I need to speak to the manager!” The four-foot-ten pharmaceutical tech who was confronted replied: “there’s no manager here right now.”  Then, the angry woman repeated her previous statement four times, each repetition louder than the one before.  Her booming voice shook the isles in a way that I can find no other explanation for than that her lungs had developed so much that they were the reason for the flesh that sagged over her five sizes to small jeggings.  Finally, with her voice approaching levels that would have blown down a house of bricks, the manager arrived on the scene.   “What wrong miss?” he asked with all manner of professionalism.  “I’ve been waiting here for twenty minutes over the time I was supposed to for my prescription to be filled and also, this lady lied to me and said there was no manager.  I don’t like being lied to!  I’m in pain!  I don’t have time for this girls screw ups.  She’s probably spending her time taking my pills rather than giving it to me ‘one for you, five for me, one for you, six for me….’ rather than doing her damn…”  My ears were off.   What unfolded next was some attempt to calm this berserker with the fact that the pharmaceutical tech meant there was no “pharmaceutical manager” in the store at that moment and that her prescription would be filled as quickly as possible(also, there was some comment later about how she couldn’t pay for her prescription after it had been filled).  We got out of there as soon as possible.

Yes I can understand frustration anger and feelings of being ignored.  Making a public spectacle in an inappropriate public place of your suffering is something I find hard to tolerate. Quietly talk to the manager and solve your problems like a decent human being.  Don’t blow the house down.

And buy jeggings that fit.  Or actually, just don’t buy them at all.