THE PHARMACY

I hate going to the pharmacy. When I pull into the parking lot, I scan the number of cars, hoping for a low count. If it's high, I'm convinced everyone is at the pharmacy window. Sometimes, if a car pulls up next to me and I see an old person in it, I rush to get to the door first. If the old person is already getting out of their car, I have no choice but to hold the door open for them. But once I'm inside I know I can beat them to the pharmacy window. Old people can't run. I pick up speed, pushing other customers out of my way. I make a fast left and head down the card aisle. Damn! Road-blocked by an employee taking down the Valentine Day cards.  I revert and run down the far left side of the store... From a distance I can see the pharmacy- and a long line all the way back to the Sinus and Allergy section. DAMN! I try to find the last person in line. For some reason, this is never an easy task.
"Hi, are you in line?" No answer. I try another person. "I'm sorry, are you the last person in line?" It's so odd when nobody will answer my fucking question. It's so crowded in front of the counter that I have no choice but to go back and come down another aisle.  Of COURSE, by then another person is already in front of me. ARRRRGH! 
After like, a MONTH, there's only one person left. Dear GOD it's an OLD PERSON.
I throw my hands up in the air.
I'm FUCKED!
Shit. Did I say that out loud?

I look behind me to see how long the line is now. There's no one behind me. This entire time nobody came in after me? That shouldn't bother me but for some reason it does.

The old bag says she can't read the medicine label.
"What kind of medicine is this?" She asks. "I can't read it."
The pharmacy assistant replies, "I'll write it down for you in large print, so you'll know what you're taking. Let me find a pad of paper."
(LONG PAUSE)
She finds a pad of paper.
"How are the grand-kids Mrs. H? I bet they're growing fast."
"What? I can't hear you. What about my arthritis?"
The assistant gets a giggle out of this.
After they talk about the little shit grandkids for twenty minutes the pharmacy assistant rings her up. Old Bag looks at her. "How much is it? My insurance should pay for all of it."
"You only have to pay $6.00."
"That's outrageous!" The Old Bag says.
I'm ready to PUNCH HER IN THE FACE, but since she's 110 years old, I refrain.
"Well, I'll pay for it but I'm not happy about this."
"Okay, that will be $6.00 then."
"Let me get my wallet."
Oh boy, here we go. She finally pulls out her wallet and fishes around for her debit card. She mumbles under her breath.
"Where is it? I thought it was right here."
I'm fidgeting, rocking back and forth, no longer hiding my impatience. She finds her card. I prepare myself for the next step.
"Where do I put this?"
(Grrrr...)
"Swipe it here." The pharmacy assistant points to the machine.
"Uh oh. I hit the wrong button, how do I get it back to the beginning?"
I want stab myself in the eye with a screwdriver.
A DECADE goes by before she is done. When she walks by me, I shove her into the magazine rack.
(No I don't.)
My transaction takes 2 minutes. I leave the store and drive away, smashing my bumper into the pavement from a giant pot-hole.

I HATE GOING TO THE PHARMACY.