A Tale Of Two Kiddies: PART 1

I have no bone to pick with people who are out trying to earn an honest day's pay for an honest day's work. None whatsoever. I will stand patiently and wait for them to be trained. Keep my mouth shut, or offer suggestions if I deem it appropriate. Everybody has to learn sometime.

I do, however, have a problem with people who think they know it all, and fly by the seat of their pants, rather than checking with a co-worker to make sure the job is done correctly. Don't pee on my leg and tell me that it's raining. Don't blow smoke up my butt and tell me I'm turning into a prized ham. Don't shine me on like an extra-long, extra-heavy flashlight used by police. Get your act together, and admit that you are going to need a little extra time and help to learn your job. Simple.

Wednesday, I went to the pharmacy to pick up my prescriptions. A new girl greeted me. I told her my last name, then first. She started poking at the computer, then asked, "What was the birthdate?" This is standard procedure there. I replied. LASS looked confused. "Um. Just a minute." She went behind the tall counter, and came back with a seasoned employee.

"Oh. There it is. You didn't check the birthdate. You just took the name that came up first."

No problem. That's exactly what LASS should have done. She had difficulty, and went for help.

LASS found my bag of pills hanging over in the drive-thru bay. They put the plastic pill bottles in their white paper sack and staple the amount on its folded-over top, then put that paper sack down in a clear, ziplock-looking bag with a hanger on top. Then they hang them alphabetically on a rack at the drive-thru. A good system, really. LASS told me the total, and stepped behind her computer/register.

"This is a debit," I said, handing her my card. Same as I always do, every month. EVERY. MONTH. I waited for her to tell me to poke in my PIN on the little calculator-looking gadget wired to her computer/register, and then to sign the electronic thingy next to it to acknowledge who had picked up the meds.

LASS handed my card back. Took out the receipt and stapled that to my sack of meds. Asked me to sign my signature. Then handed over the meds.

"Oh. I was waiting to put in my PIN."

"I don't think we have a way to do that here."

"That's funny. I've done it EVERY MONTH when I use my debit card here. For YEARS."

LASS just looked at me. No offer to go check on it. No sign that something was amiss. No explanation.

I'm pretty sure everything will turn out fine. The Office Max over in Bill-Paying Town does that. But they tell you it will run as a credit card, rather than a debit card. Nothing untoward has happened when using my card there. I'm just suspicious, since LASS didn't seem to know what she was doing. I don't want the police chasing me from my appearance on the surveillance camera, saying I didn't pay. And I don't want to throw away an unfamiliar credit card bill, thinking it's junk mail. As far as I remember, the charges still come right out of my account, even though the card gets scanned like a credit card.

All that could have been remedied if LASS just admitted to herself that this was something she hadn't done yet, and perhaps she should consult a more experienced employee to be sure.

SWEET GUMMI MARY! Don't go telling me you don't have a way for me to put in my PIN! That sounded about as nonsensical as Michael Keaton in Mr. Mom, saying he was wiring the house for "220...221...whatever it takes."

These young whippersnappers think they can rule the world. Maybe they will. Incompetently.
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Tomorrow: a tale of one who did the right thing.