I have written before about the pharmacy beside my office, my drug dealer for my three different types of medication. I wrote about how one of the staff once described me as “our best customer” and how I feel that being a pharmacy’s best customer is probably not, on balance, a great thing to be.
I went in yesterday to re-stock, having reminded myself to do this by putting “do drugs” into my Outlook Calendar (I am well aware that my boss often has to look at my calendar to know when I’m free for meetings, and I like playing with his head sometimes).
The place where everybody knows your name is supposed to be Cheers, not a place that specialises in medication for the bewildered. Not in my case. “Hello, Tin”, said the beautiful Polish girl who works there. While we waited for the pharmacist to fill my prescription (a process that basically involved him emptying his shelves into a paper bag) she and I chatted away. I asked her was she off for this Bank Holiday weekend. “I’m off for three weeks”, she replied, “I’m flying home tomorrow and getting married next Saturday”.
We talked about this for a while (her name’s going to be McCarthy, a popular Polish name) until my medicines arrived. As I was leaving I said “well congratulations, I hope you have a great time”, and held out my hand for her to shake it. She took my hand, reached forward, hugged me and kissed me on the cheek.
Surely it can’t be good to be so well known in a pharmacy that the staff kiss you when they feel like it.
On the other hand, the purpose of a pharmacy is to make you feel better. I certainly felt brilliant walking out.