Get My Pills! AKA: Geriatric Moments

I am driving down the 101 highway and pass my exit. Fuck!

A moment later, my cell phone rings; it's my boss. For fucksake, I just left the office! Goddamn it, fine! I'll answer it.

"Hello?"

"Yeah, hey. So I need you to help me out. My wife can't do the errands and our maids are busy, I need you to come over to ask my wife what she needs you to do."








"Uh, alright. So it's your wife that wants me to--" 

I hear my boss give a long sigh and hang up. 

Damn it! I throw my phone on the floor in anger and grab a beer from the center console. I pop it open and guzzle down what feels like half. I seriously can't stand this job most days.

I take the nearest exit and eventually make a u-turn to head back to the office. The sun blasts my face with intensity as it sets in the west as I chug some more beer.

I arrive on the block of my office and park on the street. I finish my beer and throw it under my car as I make my way to the door. I knock and put my ear to the door: I hear my boss inside on the phone making a lot of loud yelps. I open it and cross the threshold to find myself in our office but in total disarray. The bookshelves and cabinets are nearly overturned and there is printer paper everywhere. I notice the printer is shooting out blank faxes and is ringing off it's hook. I see my boss in his office as I take a deep, long breath as I enter to speak with him--

"What are you doing? Why is there paper everywhere? What does your wife want??"

"Never mind that now! She told me. I'm on the phone with the pharmacist and my wife. I can do things faster than you. We are trying to make a payment on the medicine she needs."





"I get it, but what's with all the printer paper??"

"Oh, the pharmacist is trying to fax over a bill but I don't know what the machine is doing and I can't do anything to stop it, I tried. My guess is we are out of ribbon ink. Could you head up to the A&P and get some?"






"Alright, alright...wait a second. You want me to go get more printer ink and your wife's meds? Isn't there some form of patient confidentiality laws either I and/or the pharmacist would be breaking?"

"NO! My last assistant did this and if she could do it, you can too."








"Ok, fine. I'll get your wife's medication, and the ink. Which pharmacy is it at?"

"The CVS off Vine."







"Thanks. Alright, well, I'll be back in an hour."

I gather myself and back slowly out of his office as he stares me down in stoney silence. My boss is weird.

I jump back in my car and turn it over. I roll down the block in search for the CVS off Vine. I pass a street that looks familiar; yes, I think this is it. Yep! CVS, ahoy. I pull into the parking lot and enter through the front. 

I make my way to the back where I see the pharmacy sign. The counter is empty as the pharmacist asks:

"Hello, how may I help?"









"Hey. So I'd like to fill this prescription for a family I work for. I don't have any information other than their address and driver's licenses, can you still help?"

"Oh yes, I was on the phone with them for some time. Let me check the outgoing box."

The pharmacist walks away and a moment later returns with a small white bag. 

"Here they are. You must have someone sign for these. Are you authorized?"





"To what? Sign for them?"

"Yes. Under federal law since there have been very few instances of this medication being prescribed, when it is needed I must log it down with a patient or representative signature."








"I understand but, If I have to sign for these meds...I want to know what they are."




"Well...ok, I see your point. They are suppositories for violent diarrhea and bowel syndrome."









I stare in stunned silence. The child within me is laughing hilariously. I loudly laugh in the pharmacist's face and have to hold the counter for support. My sides hurt! My boss' wife needs ass pills!!

Whiskey 'n Soda

It is 6:15pm and I'm at my hotel desk waiting for emails to come in. I check my phone and  notice a text message from my boss. 

"Please come see me at 7pm. Fred called today. Thanks."

This can't be! My boss never meets at an exact hour for anything. If I go, I'm pretty sure we'll waste time talking about nonsense. Well, I guess I have to go. Fuck. On the bright side, I could grab some dinner and head over after I'm done.

I close my laptop and notebook and place both in my bag. I stand and head to the bathroom and quickly wash my face. The towel is very soft and I take care to dry my face very well. I turn off the lights and head out the door to the elevator. When I approach the elevator doors I press the call button and hear the elevator ding. The doors lurch open as I step inside, pressing the lobby button.

After what seems like forever, I finally reach the lobby and beeline for the bar. I order a J&B and soda with a steak special. The barman hands me the drink and I eagerly take my first sip. I think to myself that I am excited for this meal and this J&B tastes amazing. I watch some football on the widescreen TV above as time slowly ticks away...

--- --- --- 

The football game is now almost over and I find myself into my fourth whiskey and soda. Did I get my food? I must have eaten, but I don't remember. The barman probably took the dishes, right?

My pocket begins to vibrate and I jump off the bar seat to answer the call. The caller ID says it's my boss. I pickup. "Hey, how's it going?", I mildly slur.

"What are you doing, where are you? You were supposed to be working with me on that call I mentioned earlier."

"I didn't know that was important now *hic*...I mean, uh...of course it's important but you said you need time to figure *hic* it out." 

"I want to see you now because you have already wasted a great deal of my time." 

Click.

The line dies, my boss just hung up on me. My boss expects me to go and I'm shit-faced. My gaze suddenly focuses on the half full scotch and soda in front of me on the oak bar. It penetrates my brain as a droplet slides down it's face. So delicious. I glance up at the TV and wouldn't you know it, it's 11:00pm. My boss expects me to go up there, now? Hours later? Fuck.

I quickly chug the remainder of my drink and stumble off the stool. I throw down what I'm sure is too much cash and grab my bag off the floor. Heading toward the elevator, the lobby tilts to the right as I adjust left. The whole place is spinning like a carnival ride from hell and I'm barely holding on to my puke.

I exit the elevator and suddenly realize I'm on the ninth floor. I must have blacked out between the bar and just now. I confirm with signage; yep, ninth floor. I was just in the lobby and now I'm on the ninth floor. I can only imagine this is going to be good.

I find room 905 and pound four times then press my ear to hear if my boss isn't in there. Please don't be in there! Suddenly, I hear some banging movement and my heart drops. A click as the door opens--

"Where have you been? It's really late now and I'm not happy. Don't even come in, just get the hell out of here. GET OUT! I don't want you near my door. I'll make sure that your ass is grass in the morning, I'll bring in a new assistant to handle this stuff that is so, so simple. "

"Well, I dunno if you know this, but...I think you didn't uphold your end. You told me to come at 7, and a guy's gotta eat right? I mean...come on now, you know I'm better than thaaat...I'll deal with it in the morning."





I secure my bag to my shoulder and try to stand straight. I turn away from my boss and head towards the elevator but I pause. I glance backwards momentarily--

"Another assistant?"

The next day I was sent home. That was the last day I traveled with my boss on business trips.

Worst Assistant Ever

I awake to an alarm buzzing with ferocious intensity. My head pounds harder and harder. I look over at the bed stand and can barely read the clock, 1:03am. It's late, or early...whatever.

I crawl up to a sitting position and yawn as I glance down around at my bare hotel room. I bring up my phone and check for any messages; there are 2 from my boss. I open my voicemail and listen to the first:

"Hey so uh, it's pretty late now and I don't think that this is fair for me, you know? I think it's total bullshit that we have to stay here in this hotel and, and, and, WAIT...for this stupid thing to happen. They should have had the set ready hours ago for me, you know? What are you going to do about this? I suggest you call them and tell them that I am not happy at all with this situation. Call me."


I immediately press 7 and delete it into oblivion. I scroll to message two but hesitate; it's 10 minutes after the first. I slowly press play:


"Hey! What the fuck? Why haven't you picked up your phone? Do you realize who is calling you? For fucksake, pick up the god forsaken phone or I'll beat your balls into oblivion you miserable piece of shit. You're the worst assistant ever. I can't believe that you're sleeping or whatever it is you are doing but I'm not leaving my hotel room until you come here or call me back. It's very late and I'm tired."



I sigh heavily and notice it's 1:11am. I throw my phone across the room. I grab a half empty warm beer from the night stand and chug it's remains, the only way to get a night like this started. Or morning, whatever.

Beginning of a Bad Day

I sit at my desk enjoying a morning coffee when my boss storms in the door and yells at me--

"Why won't my iPad print to my printer at my house??"

Before I can speak he yells--

"My life achievements are way more important than you wasting time on stupid things that an assistant should have figured out a long time ago." 


My boss points to trophies and awards on the wall and continues to yell--

"You are turning today into a bad day! Arrrgh!"

Still fuming, he storms to his office and closes the door.





I sit in stunned silence as I continue to hear the ramblings of my insane boss. The office phone line begins to ring as I sit deep in thought. My boss is an idiot. He wants to print from a first generation iPad which lacks that capability. I glance up at the clock on the wall, it's face reads 10:12am. It's going to be a long day.