May 31, 2020
Water bottle in hand Larkin made his way into the pharmacy, already taking a glance about to see who was where, he didn’t want to really deal with certain co-workers. If he were to be honest, which he never was with anyone here, he would want to not work with certain people at all. He’d work in the front store when they were in the pharmacy and then work pharmacy on their days off. He’d do whatever he could to avoid them...but no one knew this - he’d told no one. He knew he could, and maybe even should, but he also knew if he spoke up there would be some backlash and so he kept silent.
That’s just what he was as he nodded to one of the older techs, a man in his sixties, who he was ok with. He wouldn’t say they were friends but there was no tense air between them - they could talk casually. Smiling a bit as he his nod was met with an enthusiastic greeting, though on the down side it gained him attention from others he didn’t want it from, he was happy to vocally greet his co-worker.
As he clocked in he went to put his water bottle to the side, so he’d keep drinking as he worked, Larkin called the first customer on line up to handle them. He knew his place and it was stuck at the pick up line.
When his older co-worker, George, came by he asked him about the 14 day RTS list. Asking if it had been done and if not where the list was...so he could finish it when there was no line - he needed to keep busy. It wasn’t that he wanted to keep busy, though he did, it was that if he wasn’t busy whatever pharmacist they had on shift would have him cleaning up after the other techs...because none of them let him actually count pills and do other things. Nope...he’d get told to just put the stock bottles away once the other, more useful, techs were done with them. It felt a bit like Cinderella...or some sort of servant..like he was lesser and there to clean up behind them.
So once the line was done he went to grab the list and start pulling scripts from the bins, why would people not pick up their inhalers? Some of the things people didn’t pick up were a bit, or a lot, important. Inhalers and antibiotics as well as a few insulin prescriptions. It really was a wonder. Though he figured some of them were likely filled ahead of time, thanks to the lovely CVS pharmacy system, and the meds weren’t needed just yet...hence not being picked up. He really did hate the metrics but he fell into it was well.
As he pulled, and rang up people, Larkin found himself falling into the swing of things. Hit yes for nearly everything on the register screen...grab scripts and hand them over. Get people to pay and just tell them to have a good day. It was all basic and he sort of felt like a wind up doll. He did it all on automatic without a bit of feeling involved. Did these people even get how little he felt or cared? If he seemed to care, which he doubted he did, it was an act. If they thought yelling at him bothered him...they were nuts - he was unfazed and didn’t get paid enough to deal with them. He only cared about the people he worked with...cause he dealt with them far more often.
It was why he did his best to avoid talking to anyone, unless he had absolutely no choice - such as a DUR notice. When he got those he stepped back and let the pharmacist handle it while he put things away, he didn’t care to be near the pharmacist.
When his break came it took everything in him not to run from the pharmacy, he really did need to get out. It was almost like a constant feeling of waking on egg shells with his co-workers. He didn’t feel comfortable around them and didn’t feel comfortable asking for help, or asking them to do a rebill when he couldn’t, it all felt so uncomfortable and wrong. The quick drive home saw him getting food at home and taking time to unwind before he had to hurry back to work.
The last bit of time, three hours, went fairly fast though he did wish it had gone faster. The moment he’d tried to do a rebill, and had to ask a question, the script was plucked him his hand and they sent him back to pick up...because he was too slow. HE was slow because he never got to do rebills! How was he supposed to get quicker at them if he never did them? If he had to fumble about. It was counterproductive to just toss him back to the register. He knew that like the back of his hand, he’d even had dreams of ringing people up. He needed to learn the rest...like rebilling. But he never got to. It hurt when they stopped him from progressing and seemed burdened by him asking for help...but wouldn’t help him get better - so he did stop needing help.
He couldn’t help feeling frustrated, and upset, as he stepped out at the end of the night. Whispering a quick good night to the others, not that he meant it, and went to get his things so he could leave.
Word count: 940
