From the File Vault: Pharmy Tales

Saturday, February 23, 2019 · 5 min read

A few of you, thank you, have reached out to me saying that you love my writing style. It means a lot to me because I like to think that I write how I speak. This was not always taken well, however. I tend to be a bit of a sarcastic troll.

The following post is meant to show others who may be like me and hesitant towards their writing style due to feedback they’ve gotten. I’d love to empower them to be comfortable with themselves.

In high school, I got my first D on an assignment ever in AP English. It was on my senior thesis. Now, if you haven’t been able to tell already, I am a bit of a troll and I also value hearing all perspectives and then finding the truth somewhere in the middle. In this sense, I wrote my senior thesis on viewing the moon landing from the other side and trying to prove it was fake. Today, this is probably equivalent to trying to prove flat-earthers are correct. I had some shady sources as you can imagine and the whole thing was written with a large dose of satire. My English professor, on the other hand, was not one for jokes I soon learned because I landed myself a big fat D on the assignment. Luckily for me, I had already been accepted to NYU early admission so other than a large dose of feeling like shit (I am a perfectionist) I decided to not give any fucks.

I tried to find that paper and couldn’t, but instead I found my college entrance essay, which is in the same style. I worked at a pharmacy all through high school and on breaks from college and some pretty weird shit happened. My mom thought this was a terrible idea for a college essay and I’d never be accepted anywhere and my dad loved it. Never be ashamed to be yourself and think differently. So here it is…

Pharmy Tales

I work in a pharmacy, which sounds like a pretty normal job where nothing of great importance happens. Don’t jump to conclusions, however. Here is a bundle of short stories-using no real names; I like to call them “Pharmy Tales.”


Every time Mrs. H calls the pharmacy she complains, either about her bill or her latest delivery of medications. Unfortunately, I usually answer the phone.

“Camelback Village Pharmacy,” I squeaked.

“Is Dan there?” Mrs. H asked sending a chill down my back. Dan is the owner. Just the sight of him causes even the angriest customer to give up their battle.

“Tuesday is his day off. Would you like to speak to Laurie?” I answer.

“No, I would not. I just received my bill for July and it has two delivery charges on it. How do you explain that?”

“Did you get two deliveries?”

“That’s not the issue. Every time I get my bill something is wrong. I shouldn’t have to always second check your billing statements.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Well ‘sorry’ doesn’t cut it. Make sure Dan calls me tomorrow.” The receiver clicks.

I felt like I had just run a marathon.

“I’ll pick up the phone in case she calls again,” offers Ross, another employee.

The phone rings about 10 minutes later and Ross answers. As it turns out, it’s a call from a different customer thanking us because he received his mail-out order and it was perfect.

Just my luck.


Ross hates Mr. W, an infamous customer known for his inappropriate language. One Saturday, he strolls in drunk with his dog, Bella. I love Bella. She looks like Beethoven. Ross immediately ducks down behind the counter.

“We just had a scotch on the rocks and we’re really feeling it right now,” says Mr. W, referring to himself and his dog. “Did you order my cane, Dan?”

“Yes, I have it right here,” Dan holds up the cane.

“That’s not it, that looks like a turd. Send it back or even better, throw it away,” Mr. W yells. By now Ross’s back is killing him so he is forced to stand up.

“Is that the sexy boy from Germany?” exclaims Mr. W, pointing at Ross. He then spends the next thirty minutes interrogating Ross about the World Cup and whether or not he lost his virginity. By the end of their conversation, Bella was asleep on the pharmacy floor and drooling.


In the middle of one routine day at the pharmacy, a woman passed me a prescription, I passed it to the Pharmacist, and I continued into “La-La-Land” for the next twenty minutes.

The pharmacist realized that the prescription was fraudulent and inconspicuously called the police.

Ross stalled her with a conversation. She decided to leave and come back when it was ready. Five minutes later, Ross met the police outside the pharmacy and told them what the woman had looked like.

On her way back to pick up the prescription she identified Ross with the Police and she rolled under numerous cars in the parking lot to escape. The police soon caught and arrested her.

One officer came into the pharmacy to talk to the rest of us. As the very attractive police officer glided down the allergy and laxative aisle, I snapped out of “La-La-Land” and questioned what was going on. I had no idea all of this action was taking place just yards away from our neighborhood pharmacy.


Don’t be fooled by the misconception that working in a pharmacy is dull. Everyday, I come home with a new story to tell.