Well Bottom Blues

I went online in the Walgreens app and asked to refill the prescription which, the bottle on my bedside said, had one refill remaining. The app promised it would be ready by 1:00 p.m. day after next.

I call them one day after the day promised to find out that, according to their computer, it has no refills. This is the same computer that generated the label that said one refill remaining.

A quick check of MyMonstrousNotForProfitClinic confirmed, with some calendar math from the date issued and the number of refills promised, told me yes, I should have one more refill.

“Don’t raise your voice with me,” the clerk said when two years of exasperation boiled over. All I did was suggest, in a voice calculated to be  loud enough for the pharmacist and all the other customers to hear, that I might speak to the Pharmacy Licensing  Board about their competency to safely and effectively manage prescriptions.

“If it’s not our computer, don’t trust it.” I was not chastised again for the loud snort as if I were trying to clear a year’s blockage from my sinuses.

They handed me five emergency refill pills in penance for their incompetence without making a free and full confession of their fuckedupedness. They were not absolved.