Today I had a prescription shop nightmare. Before I begin, remember that I am a germophobe. A pregnant germaphobe.
This afternoon I went to the prescription shop to get my progesterone refilled. I had called ahead, so it was ready by the time I walked in the pharmacy. The cashier quickly found my bag, and then she opened it.
When she picked it up, she realized that the lid had come off the bottle and the pills had spilled out. Her solution was - instead of just letting me take care of it - to open the bag, and pour the pills back into the bottle.
The problem began when there were a few pills stuck at the very bottom of the bag, and she couldn't shake them out. So, she PUT HER HAND IN THERE AND PICKED THEM OUT AND PLACED THEM IN THE BOTTLE.
Maybe that doesn't sound like a big deal. But it was to me. This was the cashier. The same person who has spent her entire day at the cash register handling money given to her by sick people. And it's not just the money that bothers me. She may have coughed, sneezed or rubbed her nose.
And now I have to take those very same pills that she has touched.
I stood there in shock, unable to move. I finally willed myself out the door without pitching a fit. Maybe I should have.