the too-familiar pharmacist

Sometimes I LOVE living in a small town. Like the milk I get delivered in glass bottles at work from Tom from the dairy in Babbitt. I like that. The milk is soooo good!!! Tom the milkman is also an artist and a emergency responder.

And when the neighbor leaves a bag of apples from his tree. Also cool, I made crockpot applesauce!

Another cool one: when the ER doctor listened to me on the Morning Show and knew that I was in because of a giant rash on half my face (otherwise known as the first symptom of The Lyme's).

A not so cool one?

The too-familiar pharmacist. I'll call him Steve. Steve the pharmacist.

It started when I moved to this town and I'd go to my unnamed discount store for my prescriptions. He was fine. Talkative. Tried to get me loosened up. But I didn't like how he would point to the little bench to have a "private consultation" about whether or not I had ever used the particular "unmentionable" before. And possible side effects, etc. All things I could read on the bottle or remember from the last time I was in.

He did this many times. But he was also friendly, in a long haired guy with one long fingernail kind of way. I didn't dislike him exactly, but I really yearned for anonymity or a faceless pneumatic tube at the pharmacy I think.

It went on....he started realizing he had heard me on the radio. Kept mentioning my unmentionables, etc. Friends recommended I find a new pharmacy but as a native Minnesotan, I didn't want to make the guy feel bad or anything.

One day I must have just had it. I felt bold. Ready to deal with Steve, the too-familiar pharmacist. It happened to be Valentine's Day. He did his normal small talk chit-chat mention the unmentionables to me schtick. Then he asked in a sarcastic tone if I had plans for that night.

"I do!"

"Really?" he said, looking at me over his glasses, pierced eyebrow raised. "What???"

"My fiance and I are going to a play."

"Reallllly...." He looked over his glasses at me again, like I was lying. "What play?"

Not too quietly I said "The Vagina Monologues".

"THE WHAT?"

"The Vagina Monologues." I said, even louder, a little smugly in fact. Apparently Steve the pharmacist wasn't a theater type.

"What's that about?" his voice was getting softer now, as mine increased. He looked behind me at the small line that was forming.

"Vaginas."

It felt good, to finally embarass Steve back.

"A play about vaginas?"

"Yup." I said taking my credit card back.

"Where is the play?"

"The Reif Center! "Thanks! Happy Valentine's Day Steve!"