Mr. Pants: Hi. I got a message saying you can’t fill my prescription.
Pharmicist: That’s right.
Mr. Pants: Well, if you don’t have it, could you get it from another one of your stores?
Pharmacist: Oh, we have it.
Mr. Pants: Huh? Then what’s the problem?
Pharmacist: This prescription is for a one-month supply. Your insurance company will only pay for a three-month supply.
Mr. Pants: But I only need a one-month supply. I’m supposed to take it for one month.
Pharmacist: Don’t worry. We have called your doctor and asked him to write a prescription for three months.
Mr. Pants: I don’t need three months.
Pharmacist: You don’t have to use them all.
Mr. Pants: But I talked to the doctor yesterday and he specifically said it was a one-month prescription with no refills. “Don’t even ask for refills,” he said. This is an actual quote. Mr. Pants is a Pretend Journalist and therefore is quite particular about recounting quotes. But not recounting votes. That would just be silly.
Pharmacist: We haven’t heard back from him yet.
Mr. Pants: He doesn’t work Fridays, so I likely will die before you can reach him, unless you happen to be mountain biking in Telluride this weekend.
Pharmacist: Blank stare.
Mr. Pants: Could I just pay for the one-month supply myself and skip the insurance company?
Pharmacist: Long pause. I suppose.
Mr. Pants (inhaling sharply in fear of a four-digit price tag for exotic pharmaceutical concoctions): How much will it cost?
Pharmacist: Let me look it up (apparently nobody has ever paid cash before.) Eleven dollars.
Mr. Pants: OK, thanks. Let’s do that. (OK, thanks. Let’s do that translates to I CAN’T BELIEVE I JUST WASTED 20 MINUTES ON THIS CONVERSATION I HATE YOU I HATE YOU I HATE YOU.)
Pharmacist: You’re welcome. (You’re welcome translates to I COULD CARE LESS GO AWAY).
Brights side: Next time I need a Hershey bar, I’m coming here. I’m guessing they’re only sold in three-month supplies.