I love how the pharmacy is so random. It’s the only store that is 100% normal to see customers in their pajamas. You see someone walking around in sweatpants and slippers, and you’re just like, “That guy’s not feeling well.”
Basically, in case you’re wondering why pajamas have pockets, it’s so we can go to the pharmacy.
And there are two checkout counters. At one, you can buy things they keep behind the counter that you can’t get to on your own that will keep you alive. At the other, you can buy things you can’t get to on your own either, but it’s things that will kill you. And they’re at opposite ends of the store. The people who staff the different counters don’t even look like they’re from the same planet. I don’t think they know that each other exists.
At the prescription counter, you have to put in an order, so they can let you know that they’re out. This was a really popular pill today, apparently. It’s flying off the shelves. But don’t worry; they’ll order more for next week. Try to stay alive until then.
But usually they do have it in. You bring them your order, like it’s a restaurant with really boring food, or a deli counter, where they’re weighing out pills for you on a piece of butcher paper, and you can either stand there making apologetic eye contact with the person behind you in line, or you can wander around the store looking at the weird selection of products and saying, “Maybe I would like to take my own blood pressure at home! You think the doctor would decide not to take it if I just brought in my numbers every time? The same doctor who takes my blood pressure five minutes after the nurse does?” Or you can just order your prescription on the phone ahead of time, and then you just have to show up and the pharmacists will go, “Oh, right!” and scurry around to fill your order.
I always call in my refills, and they say, “It will be ready in 20 minutes,” and then I come in a day or two later, because I don’t believe them, and they say, “Oh, we were just about to put it together.” Wow, what hashgachah pratis!
Actually, first they ask for my name, so they can check the alphabetically-sorted bags of prescriptions that have been sitting under the counter since the pharmacy first opened, because as it turns out people are under no obligation to actually pick up their pills. They just order it and forget about it. It’s not like a restaurant, where the pharmacist brings home all the unclaimed pills at the end of his day for his kids to fight over.
And then before they hand you the pills, you have to answer a series of questions, like, “Do you need patient counseling?” I always click no. What, are you gonna counsel me in the store, with all these people behind me in line? Who, this cashier who can’t alphabetize? You guys could have counseled me while I was waiting, on one of these chairs. Do you have a couch back there?
But what takes longer is if you need something from the pharmacy that does not require a prescription, because you can’t order that. You have to schlep around the store in your weakened state, squinting at the backs of packages and reading ingredients like you know what any of them are.
“Hey, this doesn’t even have real cherries in it!”
Or you have to figure out how much you need by deciphering the tiny charts: “Let’s see… If the child is 24-35 pounds and 2-3 years old, they get 5 milliliters. If the child is 36-47 pounds and 4-5 years old, they get 7.5 milliliters. What if he’s 4 years old, but he weighs 35 pounds?”
And how come there are such exacting charts on children’s medications, but all adults get the same dose? I definitely weigh a full child more than my wife.
And then even in the aisles, there are always some pills that are under lock and key, like “These are the ones people steal.”
Oh, these must be the good ones.
So you have to find someone to unlock it for you, just so you can read the back and call your wife. And not a pharmacist -- someone from the other counter, who is not someone who can answer your questions about any of them. They’re the ones who have security clearance.
And you just know that every item in the store has been breathed on and squinted at by someone who is not feeling well. Especially in the cough aisle. If you so much as touch a box of cough medicine, you might as well buy it.
And this goes for everything in the store, most of which isn’t actually medicine related, as far as you can tell. It’s such a random collection of things that they sell. Like they open a pharmacy, and they stock all the medicines they can think of, and they say, “Now what?” That filled maybe two aisles.
“How do we fill the rest of the store?”
“I don’t know, makeup? Toys? Office supplies? Birthday cards?”
They have “get-well soon” cards. That I get. You’re not feeling well, someone gives you a “get-well soon” card, and you’re like, “Thank you. You couldn’t have picked up my prescription while you were there?” And then they might as well have birthday cards. And graduation cards. And Chanukah cards. Something to peruse while you’re waiting for your prescription.
They also sell groceries, but zero produce, which is weird for a pharmacy. Like you’d think that if the doctor says you need more vitamin C, you can go to the pharmacy and pick up some clementines, but no, you have to pick up a bottle of pills that are the size of clementines.
Who goes to the pharmacy for this stuff? Do they not know about other stores?
It could be that a lot of what they sell is because the store is open 24 hours, because “What if someone can’t sleep? They need medication!” and then they said, “Wait. We’re the only store that’s open right now? We can sell other stuff!”
So they said, “What might people need all of a sudden in middle of the night? Let’s see… Food… Party supplies… School supplies for sure… Anniversary cards… Last minute Chanukah gifts… Pool toys… Workout equipment… Pet food…
Also, I guess if you’re not feeling well, this store might be your one outing for the week, and you suddenly remember you need to feed your family and also it’s someone’s birthday and also diapers.
It’s not the entire pharmacy that’s open 24 hours, though. It’s the entire pharmacy except for the part that gives out the actual effective pills. That has strict hours. That guy needs his sleep.
Have you ever gone to the pharmacy at night, like after 10 or 11, and it’s like kind of open? The lights are on, and you can open the door, but there is not one human being in sight? You’re like, “What happened here?” It’s just a little bit scary. Maybe you see one other customer in the first-aid aisle who’s dripping blood, and you’re like, “Should I be here with him?”
How’s he going to hurt you? He’s dripping blood.
And then you’re standing at the checkout with your two items, wondering if there’s a cashier, and then another customer suddenly shows up behind you, asking, “Are you next in line?” And you’re like, “I don’t even know if there’s an employee here!” and this other guy has his whole weekly grocery shopping with him… And then you hear this voice yell, “I’m back here!”
This is a national chain, but they can’t spring for a second employee for when the first one has to go to the bathroom?
Or it could be he’s sneaking naps back there. The manager’s not around; who’s gonna know?
And you just came for at most two items. Either you’re so sick that you don’t know whether it’s night or day, but you do know you’re out of whatever knocked you out the last time, or you’re there because your wife can’t sleep, but you’re also like, “Why do I have to wake up and go out? She’s not sleeping anyway!” So you decide that while you’re out, you are definitely buying yourself some Mike and Ikes. Or a small bag of chips that costs as much as a large bag of chips in all the other stores, that is a weird size bag that they only sell in pharmacies, which is big enough that you think it’s a normal bag, but it has as many chips in it as the bags you send with your kids to school. And then the next time she gets into the car, she’s like, “When did we buy chips?”
So I guess the candy is a little something for the husbands.
Or one of your kids is sick, so one of you runs out to the store, and the other stays up to try to soothe the crying child without medication until the medicine gets there that she’ll refuse to take.
That’s the other group at the pharmacy in pajamas – guys whose wives asked them to come. That guy’s married. It could be just you and him in the store, but you feel safe with him. Safer than you do with the guy buying his entire week’s groceries in the pharmacy in middle of the night.
Mordechai Schmutter is a weekly humor columnist for Hamodia, a monthly humor columnist, and has written six books, all published by Israel Book Shop. He also does freelance writing for hire. You can send any questions, comments, or ideas to This email address is being protected from spambots. You need JavaScript enabled to view it.
