It was a rainy day in California and I was on my way to the local pharmacy. A trip that I make quiet often, seeing as my life rotates around a carousel of pills. I walk toward the counter where the pharmacist makes eye contact with me, but shows no sign of recognition. It’s kind of awkward to me considering that they should know me on a first name basis because of my frequent visits, but they never acknowledge that they remember me. Maybe they think I’m in the witness protection program and no one can know who I am.
I see a few people standing around waiting for their prescription to be filled. Don’t you ever feel like the pharmacy is the perfect people-watching place? I like to guess what diagnosis others have and what miracle drug they are patiently waiting for. Maybe they have Leprosy…. or Elephantiasis… or Foreign Accent Syndrome. Now my diagnosis of Parkinson’s disease isn’t sounding all that bad.
I walk up to the counter and the pharmacist says, “Name and Date of Birth”. Whoa! You don’t have to buy me a drink first but, at least try a standard greeting of “Hello, how are you?” I’m compliant and respond with little enthusiasm. As he goes to retrieve the goods, I start digging in my wallet to find my CVS rewards card. I have many rewards cards from various stores, so I keep them in my coin section of my wallet. Trust me, if I put all of my cards onto my key chain, it would be like carrying around a baseball.
The pharmacist comes back with a bag of medications and I proceed to lean over the counter to hand him my magical rewards card. What I didn’t figure out is that you can’t tilt your wallet upside down and not expect to have all (and I mean ALL) your change and numerous cards come spilling out, hitting the dirty-carpeted floor. I freeze for a moment, like I saw a bear.
Now I will grace you once again, with my impeccable artistic skills… you know, some people are just born with a gift. Here is my detailed stick figure drawing, which describes the scene.
I have given myself perfectly glowing hair and long eyelashes (I am trying to keep this as close to reality as possible) and other shoppers surround me. I didn’t sense the pending doom as I leaned forward with my wallet unzipped. The next thing I notice is a flash of light bouncing off a falling quarter and then my life went into slow motion.
One might think, that someone in the gathered group, waiting for their drugs, would be kind enough to help me collect my life savings that has spilled onto the floor. No… not one person. I got down on my knees and slowly began to pick up the coins and rewards cards. Sorting out the hair, dirt and dust that peppered my loot.
It was uncomfortably silent until I hear a woman (which I have fondly added a witches hat, long-nosed and broom… remember, I am trying to be realistic) behind me say, “That’s why I don’t use those types of wallets”. As minutes passed I continue my scavenger hunt on the floor alone, in silence. I guess I should be happy that they didn’t just step over me, but it still baffled me.
I am not sure why no one offered help. Maybe we are so focused on our own problems that we don’t see what is right in front of us. Then again, maybe the woman was truly a witch…. we may never know.