Skyfall Part 3

I went round to P’s on Saturday after work.

I’d gotten two or three texts, with P asking if I wanted to come round after work, asking how my day was, etc. Maybe I should be mean and distant more, wondering what’s wrong haha. I didn’t reply to any of them because I was still angry and at work. It’s true what they say,

Be mean, keep ’em keen.

But I don’t want to be a bitch. I went. After a few pleasantries, I pressed for more details on their conversation, which was something to the effect that A asked how P knew me; P didn’t want to make up some elaborate lie, and said we’d been seeing each other for a while, wasn’t sure what it was, but that it was nice.

Then I admitted that I wasn’t happy with P at the moment, and gently shoved P’s knee with my foot. Mature, I know. More like petulant child. P immediately asked why, and I admitted it was going to sound gay, but P was mean to me. And then I backtracked and said it’d taken me a little while to figure out why I was so angry, but it boiled down to:

  • I don’t need P to hold my hand because I’m not a child.
  • I want P to engage in public physical affection.
  • Saying “Toughen up princess” felt like a rejection of my desire for physical affection.
  • I dislike “princess” just like I dislike being called “cute”.

P grabbed my hand and said, “I’m really sorry.” And then I gave P a couple of wrapped presents. P laughed and said, “I’m mean to you and you give me presents?” Well.. no. Feelings are transient and all that crap. I know I really like him and my annoyance will fade. New hand warmers and app magnets aren’t anything speccy, but I think they were small and nice. And unexpected. I’m surprised the previous one popped open when Loki batted it off the counter, but oh well.

Cuddles on the couch after, and we’re ok. P came to meet Kesh&Young, Nam and Jeff when we ate lunch today at The Garden in Leederville. I’m surprised, but I guess it’s fair. I met A, P met a bunch of my friends. It’s getting serious. Kesh said this could be the time to back off if I was ever going to do it. I don’t know.

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Post Viva

I went over to P’s after steak night at Botanica’s with Zach, Sarah, Jesse, Ted, and Soph. After some cuddles, some fun, and then more cuddles, P asked me what my favourite colour was. It’s been a couple times where I’ve been asked to confirm my birthday date. It’s nice, having someone ask things, knowing it’s for my birthday present. I just wish I could orgasm when we have sex.

I’m not 100% sure I passed viva. Despite getting the problems, it could’ve gone so poorly. Particularly section 1. And the brunette with the nose was scrawling heaps in Section 3. And a bit during my section 4 roleplay. Oh fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck.
I so very much want an acceptance to Sydney dental. Or UWA. I would be willing to compromise much to get it. I don’t care what they say, it’d be worth it. Consequentialism, the ends justifying the means, it’s worth it. Who gives a fuck about the rest?

Friday the 13th

I’m not superstitious. Well, maybe a bit. But even without it, it was a horrible work day.

  1. Computer server crash: FRED office crashed because the back-up server out the back had shut off, rather mysteriously. Nam rang FRED, and they fixed it, and he found the problem too. But for about 30 minutes, we couldn’t put items through the till, or dispense scripts. I’m so glad there were very few customers in that time period.
  2. More than malodorous: Mrs EH is a smoker, usually unkempt, and generally smells of unwashed body. She’s cantankerous and a horrible regular. One time, she went down a set of 3 stairs in her buggy and didn’t notice until she was halfway down. Anyway, she came in and gave me a sheet with medication changes to be made to her weekly pack. As I was finishing up, I noticed all of a sudden, that it suddenly smelled a lot worse, but I was headed up into the dispensary, so I was already moving away. Then it got worse, even from 2 meters away. As the smell grew progressively worse, we came to the realization that Mrs EH, had indeed, shat herself. She walked off, and at the time we were still uncertain. Perhaps she’d just farted. But she came back, and then wandered off again. There was an unmistakeable wet puddle in the carpet. Gag. And I’d just been joking with Bec and Nam about Mr GH, another challenging regular, who also has shat himself in the store. Great. Elle was highly unimpressed and said it wasn’t her fault. I didn’t sign up for this shit, literally and figuratively speaking.
  3. Stealer: There’s been an Asian guy who comes in and steals the testers. Today he came back, The boss was in the store, went straight up to him and yelled at him to get out of the store and never come back. He protested loudly, jeered back, spat at the floor, said he’d stolen 8 tester fragrances already and finally left after Nam went down and shoved him out. Why did he have to be asian?! Nam says there’s shit people in every race. We’re still a lot more visible

Jeez.

What a great end to the day.. not.

Shit day.

Stayed up late helping Dad edit and print his affidavit and exhibits, assemble, and post them in duplicate. Got 4 hours of sleep.

Overweight lactose-intolerant floor manager D went home at 1030am with a “migraine”, after leaving at 7 on Wednesday for the same reason. I got my order done, but had too many scripts. When 430pm came for me to leave, Kesh had only just got in from banking.

N, Kesh, Young, V (Pete’s Fijian mate, who was vegetarian, but is now a meat convert) and I went to the Old Brewery on Mounts Bay Road to celebrate Kesh finishing her Viva. I had a rabbit and chorizo terrine with beetroot and apple&cinnamon chutney on little toasts, truffle butter (that had a strong cumin flavour) with toasted slices of bread and one lone poached egg. The cumin flavour actually went quite well with the egg, I was surprised. I also had roasted bone marrow, which was really … well, N described it as “rich”.  I also tasted some of their tomahawk, which was really big, with the bone included.

On the way home, half-asleep, I sped through an amber/red on Manning Rd/Ley St, and got pulled over. Fuck.

Why do you think I’m pulling you over?

I actually had to think for a split second as to whether it was speeding, crossing lanes without signalling or running the red. I did all three. That part of the street is a bit tight to take the curves at 60km/h. I barely remember running the red, and didn’t think much of it. Come on, in Toronto this would never happen, there’s better things to worry about. And there was barely anyone on the road. He at least downgraded it to an amber, which meant 100$ instead of 150$ and 2 points instead of 3. Perhaps it was my reason, “I’m just tired and trying to get home.”

I was highly displeased with his reply , “Well, you can’t do that. You might end up in a different kind of bed, a steel one.” He also told me my left tail light was out, which is a bitch because I just had the bumper replaced after JLiang in Unit 1 lent his car to some girl in the units and we reversed into each other (more her fault though, because she was going way too fast and not looking). Life-time warranty on car repairs? It better hold out, or there’ll be strife.

Anyway, after he handed me my ticket, I wanted to specifically run the next few reds because I dislike being told I’m wrong, and I felt like doing something to reject that and say “Fuck you and fuck off.” But they were all green.

Fuck. Great way to end a shit day. It was going to be ok after dinner, but guess not. FUCK.

Well I’d say something’s screwed.

A bauble on a Christmas tree.

Image via Wikipedia

I was hanging out on Sunday arvo and one of my work mates rang up to ask if I could cover his shift from 3pm-9pm. I got paid to tie ribbons, construct a Christmas tree of drink bottles (gifts with purchase), and put a crapload of lotto tickets through for some addicts. I’m serious. ..about those RIBBONS!

One Italian lady spent over 100$ on lotto tickets, just to get the free Saturday ticket that costs $4.70 on its own. And she comes in multiple times every week. She’s not the biggest spender either; her self-proclaimed bestie is a South African man who spent $300 on lotto and scratchies. Now, I’ve heard the ads on the radio, “If someone you know has a gambling problem, they should get help. Please call us at blah blah blah…” Somehow, I don’t think anyone’s said anything to them. My coworker even correctly predicted that the Italian lady would be back within a few hours to check her scratchie tickets after she’d played them. She can’t tell her husband because he gets angry, understandably. So I wonder, what does she tell him? “Oh, I forgot the milk. Again! It happens every week. I’ll have to go out and get it. Be right back, honey.”

~

Another lovely lady came in as well that afternoon. She informed my boss that she will be a grandmother in 9 months time. It was strange, she pursed her lips over her rotting, greyed, gap teeth, but in something that was more a smile than a grimace. Even though there was only one other customer in the shop, I felt wholly uncomfortable standing there at the till, with her not 1 meter away airing her dirty laundry. I’m supposed to stand there.

My boss said,

“I don’t care if his head is screwed on straight, I’d still want to kill him for getting his 16 year old girlfriend pregnant.”

My coworker and I agreed. I mean, she wants to keep it – how is she ever going to have a normal life? All her friends and school mates will know (she will be heretofore known as That-Girl-Who-Got-Pregnant-and-Kept-It) and she’s not going to work until much later, if at all.I think he will change rapidly from being really keen on fatherhood to not keen at all, when he sees his other mates (who don’t have children) going out and working and traveling and living their lives. And where does that leave her? Another single mother who didn’t finish school and is on the dole. Perfect.

~

In more upbeat news, I feel really productive. I vacuumed. I mopped and used eucalyptus oil to disinfect the floor. It smells good and clean, and it’s natural. I cleaned the stove. I picked up and paid for ACER practice tests. I registered and paid for the actual GAMSAT. I sent off a form to redeem points for flights to Sydney for the GAMSAT course. I’m on my way to pick up the second practice book from the GAMSAT course. It’s all becoming real very quickly.  Today, GEMSAS offers were meant to come out, but it’s looking highly unlikely that they’ll be able to meet that deadline. Oh well, in a year, I can worry about that. There’s enough to do today.

Expected and Unexpected Expectations

Some days, it’s a crappy day where the customers want what they want now.

Sometimes, you’re blind-sided by the nana who totters up to you. You think she’s sweet and docile, but then shows her true colours when she throws her asthma inhaler on the counter and demands, “Get me that one.”

Other times, you can spot the offender from the moment she marches up to your counter, looks at your name badge and disparagingly says,

“Oh. You’re a trainee pharmacist. I want to speak to the pharmacist.”

He’s busy, so she ignores you with folded arms. Her cousin knows exactly what she has, and knows exactly what she needs. It’s some sort of Inner Health Plus antibiotic detox. The probiotic? “No, it’s to detox.”

She can wait.

One of the girls figures out that her cousin did mean the probiotic. I explain the difference between regular and dairy-free capsules.

“Oh, I’m not sure which one to pick. My cousin will know. I’ll come back tomorrow.”

I give a 30-second slow-motion replay to the manager in the back room. Not 5 seconds after I step out, she’s back. She can’t wait. She’ll take the dairy-free like I suggested. Yes I’m sure it’s one capsules a day with food. At least she said thank you.

Anyway. That’s ok. I’ve come to expect it. It’s not why I gave my notice. That was because my internship roster would leave me double booked.

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No, I know where I stand with some personality types. I learned to become more skeptical of the methadone and suboxone patients. Both drugs act as replacement therapy for drug addicts. My first experience with them was on my placement this past August and September.

Before rotation, it was obvious. “Be cautious with a drug addict.” But I wasn’t prepared for how nice they could be. They seemed normal. They didn’t all smell as bad as one patient whose stench rivaled dog vomit. (I’ll save that for my another post. The dog vomit, not the patient.) Some of them were lovely. I remarked on what a nice surprise it was, and my supervisor immediately returned, “No, you have to be careful. Especially with boundaries.”

This became clear when patients asked for more take-away doses than prescribed. Some got a bit uptight and angry, but backed right off when I asked if they’d like me to check with the pharmacist. No drug diversion for you! (There’s quite the market for selling suboxone doses.)

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Ivan Pohitonov. The Gardener (1900)

Image via Wikipedia

Now, John Smith was one of the more interesting characters. He came every day for his dose. He racked up a large debt of unpaid government-subsidised doses since July and a whole whack of other prescription medications. He always had a story for why he couldn’t pay that day.

One day, close to the end of my placement, I asked if he’d heard about the new sublingual suboxone films. I listed some of the advantages, like improved taste (and didn’t mention others, like how hard it is to divert). He said, “Nah mate, I gotta get into the doc. I’ll get him to write a script then. I got skin cancer on the back of my hand. The doc needs to cut it out.”

I’d never seen skin cancer before, so I asked to have a look. He assured me that he’d had it several times before on his other hand, forearms, neck and cheeks. I asked if he’d used sunblock.

John protested, “Ah mate, when I started landscaping, there was no sunblock in those days.” I glanced down the photocopy of his driver’s license. He started working 20 years ago. Sunblock was definitely around then.

Well, what about starting to use some now? He waved me off. “She’ll be right, mate.”

Oh dear.