There’s those legendary communication skills at work…

Time to refill my glaucoma meds. To do so, traditionally, I have to trek to the big town about 50 miles away. Normally I catch a ride with neighbors D&L, who were actually prompting me to do so – so none of this is their fault – even though they also made clear they had no reason to make the trip themselves and would rather not.

There’s a perfectly good pharmacy in the little town nearest where I live. I go right past it every week. I would much rather not blow off most of a day just to go to a Wal-Mart. But I originally started filling these prescriptions at the Wal-Mart because that pharmacy honored an amusingly odd discount card I scored when I first had my eye surgery. So for years I’ve been making that trip. Since then the prices have skyrocketed, but I kept doing the same thing mostly out of habit.

This time I rebelled and actually did something logical: I brought the prescription forms to the local drug store and asked what it would cost me to get them filled there. Getting an answer did not prove quick or simple – at one point I had to fill out a form, don’t ask me why – but I endeavored to persevere.

Turns out I’ve not only been making an unnecessary trip at substantial expense, I’ve been throwing away money on the price of the prescription.

Ah, well. Now I’m playing phone tag with some lady at the opthalmologist’s office, trying to get them to send the prescription to this other pharmacy. Possibly I’ll succeed, possibly there’ll be some regulatory reason I need a note from my mother or something.

While waiting for the information, I discovered possibly the worst product presentation I’ve ever encountered…

Chicken Poop lip balm. I wonder if they’ve ever sold a single tube of this product anywhere. Maybe people only buy it ironically? It says on the display it contains no actual chicken poop. But why trust somebody who would choose such a name?