Remember the Crazy Lady I ran into in the grocery store a while back? I think I met her sister today. She was a hot mess and put on quite the floor show.
Because of the fire at the Walgreens around the corner from my house, the next-closest Walgreens is handling the overflow business. I was in the drive-through because I was too sweaty from tennis to go inside. Just a little public service from me to you. So the lady in the drive-through line next to me was the closest to the building, practically nose-to-nose with the pharmacist behind the window.
Apparently there was a mix-up with her prescription, and the conversation between her and the pharmacist got heated, fast. She wanted to talk to the pharmacist who usually helps her, at the store that’s now closed because of fire damage. The current pharmacist was patiently explaining that she wasn’t available; their work schedules are all akimbo because of both stores’ staff trying to work from the one store.
Crazy Lady’s sister wasn’t having any of it, would not listen to reason. She was mad and she didn’t care who knew about it. It seems there was a shortage on her drugs and there weren’t enough to make a complete month’s worth. They had 8 pills to give her, and she could pick the rest up later. That’s happened to me plenty of times. Instead of grumbling about a minor inconvenience — having to make another trip to the pharmacy to pick up the remaining drugs — she went nuts and was screaming at the pharmacist, through the glass.
Now I’m really intrigued.
She wanted the pharmacist on duty to call the pharmacist she usually deals with, and of course pharmacist on duty said no can do. Can you imagine being the pharmacist who’s off duty, getting a call from a co-worker about the Crazy Lady who’s screaming about her drugs?
When that didn’t work, Crazy Lady recited the litany of reasons she couldn’t make a second trip to pick up the rest of the drugs: she has a meeting to get to, people are waiting on her, she has deadlines, blah blah blah. As if the pharmacist cares. She advised the pharmacist to get on the phone, speedy quick, and find someone else who could give her the balance of her drugs. When the pharmacist on duty said sorry, we’re out, you have to wait for the next shipment, CL said she was going to go to the fire-damaged Walgreens and “beat on the doors until they let me in and give me my drugs.”
I’m giving her a wide berth. Don’t want to be anywhere near her when she implodes.
As I completed my transaction, I heard CL screaming that is she doesn’t get her drugs, there will be hell to pay. She said, and I quote, “I need my goddam Xanax.”
Truer words have not been spoken.
If I wasn’t so scared of her and her craziness, I might have offered her one of mine. I keep a nice little stockpile, just in case. But like a rabid dog, it’s best to not make eye contact with Crazy Ladies.