Backstory - My shoulders were injured by my abusive ex about nine years ago, and I've been through PT twice so far. Today was bad. Normally, I can do some stretches, and even pop them, to relieve the pain somewhat. Not today. It felt like someone was holding a lighted match between my neck and my shoulder half the day.
I called at 4:30 to have my pain meds refilled, after I realized I had NONE. I was told they'd be ready at 6.
At 6:30, driving my stick shift with no power steering, I wait in the drive-thru for three other cars, only to find out they don't have it. No record of the call either. Jackass asks if I can come back in forty minutes. I told him no, that I did what I was supposed to do, and they were the ones that messed up, and I would be back in fifteen minutes. Almost crying, I drive home to drop off my groceries, delaying my kids' dinner at least 30 more minutes now.
My daughter and I had a conversation on the drive back. She said that she's realizing now how bad service isn't just an inconvenience, how it can really affect people in other ways, and how because of them, I was in pain longer than I should have been. I told her to be prepared, because if they weren't ready then, I would raise quite a big scene, the kind that if she were older would embarass her quite a bit.
It was in fact ready when I dragged my kids inside when we got back. I wasn't going to wait in the long line again. And at least, this time, he apologized. You know, I can imagine how it looks to have a druggie raising a scene for more narcotics, but I just wish the pharmacist could put himself in my body for that extra 30 minutes.
Sorry for the ramble. The meds have kicked in (and yes, I'm still in pain).