I beg your pardon…..

I beg your pardon, Mrs Arden, is our chicken in your garden, eating of a mutting-bone?”

“No, he's gone to Londing"

"How many miles to Londing?

“Eleving? I thought it was only seving.

 Heavings! What a long way from home!”

Was a popular nonsense rhyme in the music halls of the nineteenth and twentieth centuries. Poking fun at the linguistic differences in spoken English in the provinces, it became a well used apology after one had broken wind in public, much like the popular “More tea Vicar?”

Of course any chicken hapless enough to wonder into my garden would be cat fodder, as our delightful and coquettish Burmilla prowls her terrain in search of tender moist morsels covered in feathers. Observe her here awaiting the return of moi, minus chickens.

The above phrase featured prominently in a recent episode at the local pharmacy, where a bemused customer fought valiantly against corporate greed. That customer was me, and the incident developed at the weekend whilst trying to collect a prescription from our “local” chemist, part of a faceless corporate brand. Quite a normal and unchallenging experience one would assume, but no dear reader. Allow me to explain………………..

I am literally awash with medications, lotions and potions, pills and preparations, all to keep me in tip top condition as I adjust to a life without diabetes and dialysis. As a consequence my visits to the renal clinic once per week for a blood test and consultation often results in a change to my tablet regimen, and I seem to be carrying with me a constantly changing supply of prescriptions.

So far so good, I hear you murmur…..

Last week my visit resulted in a phone call from the lovely renal nurse advising me that I had contracted a very minor infection and needed some antibiotics, which would be faxed to my local pharmacy. All well and good….

So off I trotted to my local chemist, who shall remain nameless due to libel laws.

I approached the counter and respectfully queued with the mixed throng of assorted oddities of the unwell, the unwashed and the unimpressed, trying not to catch any of their obvious sniffles and potent virulent germs.

I politely asked for my antibiotics and gave my name and address as per usual…..

Certainly answered the timid young assistant, and off she scurried, like a drug dependant mouse, scuttling to and fro with paws full of medicine. 

Returning hastily the mouse placed the bag on the counter, examined the ticket and casually asked me for six dollars. The standard dispensing charge is $3.

Excuse me, I replied, why has the charge risen?

Minnie’s relative informed me that there was an additional fax fee payable of $3.

“I beg your pardon… (thus flawlessly linking in this blog entry), did you say a fax fee?

Yes, and it’s three dollars answered Miss Timidity Mouse.

When a customer’s prescription is faxed here it is standard policy to charge a minimum fee for the additional work created, she mouthed in surprisingly corporate speak.

Most of our customer do not complain she added.

I insisted that I was clearly unlike any of her normal customers. The fact that her eyes lifted to the heavens meant she did indeed agree…..

At this point in the exchange an older and presumably more experienced assistant began to hover menacingly next to the mouse, like an overbearing vole.

Is there a problem, she asked militantly.

I am surprised at being charged extra for a faxed prescription, I maintained, why is there any difference from a normal prescription handed in over the counter?

The more menacing rodent retorted that when a fax is received the pharmacy has to confirm the script with the relevant doctor, than make additional checks, count out the tablets, package them and alert the counter staff that a fax had been received and was due for collection.

And how exactly does this differ from a counter deposited script, I asked.

There is more checking required with the doctors, the malevolent vole rasped with a pained dislike in her customer service tone. At this point I espied that the mouse has disappeared, presumably back to the skirting board to chew on some aspirin.

It would be pointless to further pursue this avenue with this vole, as she stuck to her mantra like a unattractive and irritating bunion attached to one's foot.

So I tried another approach…….

And where does it say that a faxed prescription will attract a Fax fee, I quizzed.

In order to assert my point of view and to maximise the sense of majesty and overpowering conviction in my argument, I raised my self higher to maximise my stature to intimidate her.

Mrs Vole merely looked down at me through her spectacles and, clearly expecting this question, triumphantly squealed that there was a sign attached to the nearside wall displaying a warning of such fees.

Scrutinising the wall I eventually spied a rather small and well hidden notification that there would be an Admin Fee for any work conducted outside that remit of their arrangement with the local Health Board, with a charge of up to $5. A faxed prescription was not handed in by a customer and was therefore liable for the Admin fee, she gloated.

She maintained her superior and uncompromising approach to the additional $3, and as if to labour the point she leant forward and grabbing the drugs, entered the charge into the till, raising her eyebrows in a smug manner, and reiterated her company's demand for six dollars.

My next utterance stunned her like a mullet hitting a wall....

(poor wall)

In that case, please be so kind as to return the prescription to me so that I can get it dispensed at the other chemist in our Mall. This had some effect on her, as her eyes desperately flitted around her sockets as she tried to produce the appropriate response, in order to finish me with her killer blow.

Well we cant, as we have already dispensed it, she fumbled, more in hope than an assertion.

I corrected her, that I had not actually paid her yet for the prescription and therefore they had not in fact dispensed it to me, furthermore I would just ring my renal nurse and ask her to fax it to a different chemist, thus depriving this corporate dispensary of whatever profit it could derive from this transaction with the local health board.

This seemed to challenge the vole’s temporary authority and she looked anxiously for support amongst her counter compadres. Alas for her, everyone else was suddenly engrossed with assisting other customers, including I noticed, my former dispensing rodent, Miss Mouse.

Faced with this lack of backup from her colony, and having no effective argument, she considered her position, pensively pouting quite un vole-like.

She leaned over and quietly said that on this occasion she was prepared to waive the fax fee as the nurse may have been unaware that the Mall pharmacy was indeed part of the corporate group and it may be construed as being unfair to charge a customer without their acquiescence.

I thanked her for her compliance and proferred my card in payment, and was rewarded with my antibiotics, albeit with a slight reticence and a forced corporate smile.

Exiting the chemist I drove straight home. As I passed the garden I stole a cursory glance and was relieved to see no sign of any chickens. Mrs Arden may have been infested with them, but I was free of erroneous poultry, but was now aware of a large and hitherto unknown colony of rodents nearby…….

And the antibiotics? Quite the most revolting taste I have ever consumed, the pharmacists revenge, for it was indeed a bitter pill to swallow.