Just a word about my (former) mail order pharmacy

And the word is: evil.
as in, straight from the mouth of the big molten lake "you can check in any time you want but you can never leave" resort town of Hades, evil.

In the interest of non-slander, i will not name the said mail order pharmacy. i used it quite happily for 2 years until leaving my last job for the big wide world of my Future. every 3 months, i got more of my anti-depression meds in the mail, and this made me, and those living with me, very happy.

Then, i moved. and lost my insurance. before i did both those things, i refilled both meds, lamenting over the fact that my prescriptions both had 2 refills- two three-month supply refills. but hey, i can just transfer those prescriptions, right?

Apparently, only after having jumped through more hoops than Scarlet O'Hara ever wore and only after visiting the aforementioned resort town with the burning lakes...

Since Friday have been trying. My chosen new real-in-person pharmacist has been trying. I have called the number on the empty bottles 4 times. i have gotten 4 different answers. after each of those answers, i call more numbers, or (after the first two times) gave a new number to my new pharmacist to call. (whereafter, after three days, my pharmacist called me back and say that this number wasn't getting them anywhere and they had already called 3 times and been on hold and been transferred twice, and could i maybe check on if this is the right number?)

so, i got smart. i decided i would call all the numbers before giving them to my new real-in-person pharmacy, until i found a person on the other end that said "yes, if your pharmacy calls here, i can transfer your Rx's to them."

Again, apparently only after the burning lakes of molten rock freeze over.

So, my rant isn't just about my specific mail order pharmacy, it's more about the state of cutomer service in general. as more and more companies/services program more and more automated calling guides and set up more and more humongous centralized actual people-work-here calling centers in faraway places that now require a trip through india in order to get to the ember-raining shorelines of sulfur, are we (the consumer) left with no recourse but to hitch up our fire-repellant britches, pull down our space-shuttle-rated ceramic tile safety glasses and happily tromp along on our journey to the fiery resort town of burning lava and incinerating beaches?

And about my specific mail order pharmacy: if this last number doesn't work, you better watch out! my sista's gonna' go crazy on yo' - uh, rump... she don't wanna live with a non-medicated mle. capiche?!?! (i have no idea if that's spelled correctly, but the idea is, she'll go "GodFather" on you...)

From the lower levels of the (un-air-conditioned) Hades Hilton, yours fondly, mle