The Pharmacy

Things were quiet in the stark-white, hospital-like pharmacy. Few people roamed about in this florescent, white-walled dungeon as Liz waited patiently behind the counter.

“Can I have some needles?” asked a pale, thin man in a baseball cap—his hands shaking.

“Do you have a prescription?” asked 17-year-old Liz, wearing her blue jacket with a red embroidered “K-mart.”

The man grew angry and defensive, hurling a slew of expletives at a frightened Liz, who describes herself at the age of 17 as naïve. “I’d never been cussed at before,” she says.

At this point, Liz, who was a pharmacist technician, decided to get a pharmacist to intervene. Eventually, however, the cops had to come. Even with their help, however, Liz was still shaken up. After the incident, she says, “I ran to my car like a maniac.”

On another occasion, Liz was stocking shelves. She was minding her own business, placing item after item in its proper place, when she was interrupted by a tall, thin, African-American male in his forties. He wanted some Viagra samples.

Liz, knowing that samples of such things were not usually given out, asked “Why?” To which the man responded, “Because I want to try them out on you.”

There is a reason why Liz describes this as the worst job experience she’s ever had.