Making my own karma

I may still be sick, but I can still be a jerk when the need arises.
After a visit to the doctor today (where I was stuck with needles three times before they managed to draw blood), I headed to the pharmacy to pick up a prescription that the doc had called in for me. I had thought about using the drive-thru when I arrived, but after being scolded by the nurses for allowing myself to become dehydrated (and thus having no veins), I decided to go inside and buy some Gatorade as well.

The line at the pharmacy was long, six people deep, and once again, I thought about using the drive-thru, having already paid for the Gatorade up front, but I was listening to a good book and hadn’t been out of the house in days, so I decided to listen to Sarah Silverman narrate her memoir and wait.

A moment later, an older woman took up a position behind me and immediately began complaining.

“Can you believe the line they have on Mother’s Day?”

I pointed out to the lady that both cash registers were open, so they were doing all that they could. Admittedly, the line was moving slow. Someone was having a Medicare payment issue, thinking the $115 price tag on their medication should have been $1.15, but they were hardly understaffed.

She continued to complain, further interrupting my audio book, and while my initial instinct was to tell her to address her complaints to the cashiers and pharmacists and not passive-aggressively insult them from the back of the line, I just wanted her to shut up, so I said, “If I let you cut me, will you stop complaining?”

“No, I will not cut you,” she said, raising her voice. “I have every right to speak my mind.”

“Fine,” I said. “But I’m sick of listening to you, so I’ll just leave. I’m sure that karma will take care of me and you in good time.”

I walked out of the store, got in my car, and pulled to the drive-thru lane.  My plan was nearly spoiled by a man standing by the drive-thru window, but as my car came into view, his wife began screaming at him from the sidewalk and he vacated the space. I pulled up and had my prescription in my hands in less than two minutes.

Then I parked my car, reentered the store, and returned to the pharmacy area, where the angry lady was now second in line.

I came along side her, shook my prescription bag near her ear, allowing the pills to rattle around in their plastic container, and said, “I told you that karma would take care of me.”

“How did you get that prescription”?” the woman sputtered, obviously unaware of the pharmacy’s drive-thru lane. I turned and left without answering.

When you read CHICKEN SHACK someday and wonder about what gave rise to a character like Wyatt Salem, remember this story.

I’m still not well. I cannot eat and have lost eleven pounds in three days. It’s been a miserable period of time, but this was the pick-me-up that I needed to help me turn a corner and kick this bug once and for all.

I can feel it.

My white-blood cells are firing on all cylinders now, anxious to go to war and kill this viral enemy.

Thanks, angry lady.