5. Lina
Lina
It was my seventh business day here at Sierra Pharmacy.
Mistakes like this happened all the time, which was why a pharmacist reviewed and verified everything.
We did a lot before giving a patient their medication.
We checked medical histories to ensure there were no drug interactions between new prescriptions and any current medications.
On top of that, we also dealt with insurance companies about prior authorizations.
Then we did it all again and again, like clockwork, day after day.
I quickly corrected the prescription on the screen, verifying it as the voice of a patient shrieked from the pickup window.
“I’m not paying for that!” It was the firm voice of an older gentleman. “With my insurance, I should be paying nothing for my prescription! Why am I being charged ten bucks?”
It wasn’t even noon yet, and this was already the sixth explanation I’d heard Carmen give about why patients had co-pays for their medication now that it was a new year. Most patients didn’t understand that their health insurance deductibles reset as soon as January arrived.
Some patients got so frustrated that they threatened to change pharmacies over the co-pay. Others paid without a blink of an eye, but most would say something along the lines of the following:
“Do you even know what you’re doing? Did you even run my prescription through my insurance?” The patient’s voice rose in a quick, furious crescendo.
The insinuation that Carmen didn’t know what she was doing irritated me. Of course, she did. I was about to walk up when Jonathan intervened and took over without hesitation.
“We understand, sir,” he said in a friendly, sympathetic voice.
His presence and the sight of his white coat diffused the situation at once.
With just three words, I could see the patient calm down.
“But it’s the beginning of the year, and you have what’s called a deductible.
The $10 co-pay is only until that amount is met, and then your insurance starts paying again. ”
The patient paused, taking in the information slowly. I could practically hear Jonathan’s smile stretching wider as the rigid lines on the man’s face relaxed. The patient nodded, mumbling something as he pulled out his wallet. My manager’s kind voice fluttered through the air when he responded.
That was the thing with Jonathan Lo. He always had a way with people.
He was good at disarming them, making them feel heard and understood.
I think that was why he was always so well-liked.
That was also why he had an entire entourage following him around when we were younger.
I suppose that same sunny energy never burned out as an adult, or even in this career.
I turned back to the computer screen, looking at a new prescription. I sighed and picked up the phone, dreading the call to the insurance company.
As I punched in the number, I saw Jonathan walking back to his computer station out of the corner of my eyes.
Today was merely my second Tuesday here, but it seemed he was set on making our work life as miserable as possible.
His face soured the moment his gaze landed on me.
I turned to glance at him, but he looked away, acting as if he hadn’t been glaring into my temple.
Instead, his pointed gaze turned to the wall ahead.
Heated anger rolled off him as he walked past me with his pursed snarl and dark, furious eyes. I almost shrugged, but I was certain it would only vex him. So, I just turned back to the phone and did my job to the best of my abilities.
As Jonathan stood at his station next to mine, I could feel his emotions seething underneath his skin. I could almost see steam rising from his body with the long and frustrated exhale he released.
Sweat dripped down the hollow of my spine.
It was only Day Seven on the job, but the tension and unwarranted animosity Jonathan had toward me had been building with each passing day.
I was riddled with anxiety because I could be terminated any day, or any moment—all because of some petty feelings from high school, like we were still children.
Jonathan needed to understand that I wasn’t here to be his friend, or to prove to him we could get along with one another. I was here to work, to get a paycheck—and I was going to do one hell of a job whether he wanted me here or not.
If he didn’t, I hoped there would be some form of severance pay, at least.
By mid-afternoon, I could feel my energy draining. As a treat for Grace, Sheryl, and Carmen—who have been tirelessly explaining the concept of deductibles to patients—I offered to order coffee for the team.
Each pharmacy technician was eager, selecting their drinks on the application on my phone and thanking me sweetly. Yet, one person merely stared at me. Jonathan.
“Would you like to order something as well, Dr. Lo?” I asked, handing him my phone.
He stared at it as if it were contaminated with a biosafety level four virus. The screen was lightly smudged from the previous three people who had used it. I had almost offered to clean it when he all but yanked my phone from my hand.
All the technicians’ eyes were on us as he scrolled through the options quickly and selected something. He sighed long and hard before handing my phone back, although gentler this time. I stepped away from him as fast as possible to avoid any more proximity to him.
As I scrolled through the orders before placing them, I couldn’t help but notice how he had selected the most expensive drink on the menu. To top it off, he added a fancy Madagascar vanilla syrup to his cold brew, topped off with some fancy cold foam.
I wasn’t cheap, but I was a person of practicality. So, when I saw that he had barely touched his drink, and that it had become this milky-brown and watery concoction by the end of the day, I sighed—not out of frustration, but because a perfectly good drink went to waste.
“You didn’t like the coffee you got, Jonathan?” Grace asked curiously.
“No, it was disgusting,” he muttered bitterly.
Or it wasn’t the perfect drink for him.
The same way I wasn’t the perfect colleague.
He turned to me with the corners of his lips downturned. I blinked back, unperturbed by his behavior. He walked toward me with heavy footsteps across the carpeted floor, cup in hand.
“I’m sorry to hear the drink you ordered wasn’t to your liking,” I said.
“Don’t worry about it, Dr. Lee. The coffee was as disappointing as I anticipated,” he muttered, not sparing me a glance.
Typically, I wouldn’t care how someone responded to me or what tone they used.
However, his reply irritated me. I’d understand if he didn’t like me or my performance as his colleague.
But for him to direct his bitterness at me over a coffee he chose?
It was unnecessary. If he had an inkling it wasn’t up to par to his standards, he could have declined my offer.
My patience chipped thinner. I drew in a sharp inhale after he left the pharmacy floor and turned back to my responsibilities.
Underneath it all, a mild frustration began to bubble under my skin, the same way it usually did with Jonathan. It boiled over when I opened my locker to find a ten-dollar bill placed by my bag. It looked like someone slipped it in, considering its crooked position.
For the coffee, wrote Jonathan on a note.
No ‘Thank you’ or an apology for his uncalled for comment earlier. He didn’t even bother signing his name. But I knew it was him. His money looked like him. New. Crisp. Smelled nice. Most of all, it crumpled easily into a ball in my palm before I tossed it into my bag.