Was I the only one who had to listen to times-tables tapes in the car on the way to school? I'm beginning to think so...
Had to buy a specific medical item last week, non-urgent, although it turns out no chemist within 50 miles stocked what I needed. So I put an order in with a local but professional pharmacy, attached to a medical clinic/surgery, and I went to collect this morning. The item comes in packets of 6 (six), with 12 (twelve) packets to a box. So many items are there in total per box?
That's what I asked the pharmacist (not assistant, not cashier, not cleaning person). I couldn't see the important details (12 packets of 6) from where I was standing, so I asked the pharmacist. I saw her mouth the words twelve and six, then pause. After the pause, she started looking at each side of the box in turn. I was confused, maybe she didn't hear me (people say I have an american accent, possibly canadian). I repeated the question while rummaging through my wallet. Still nothing. I know why she's not answering me, I know but I can't accept it. I could feel it in my chest, the anticipation of the sound of "72", a wave of desperation suffocating my thoughts... tell me "72", just say "72", it's "72", come on "72". Please, I'm begging you, just SAY IT! It hurts!
She shows me the box and tells me there are twelve packets of six...
I pay and leave, for the rest of the day I'm not myself. I'm exhausted, a piece of me is still in that pharmacy.
EK
Had to buy a specific medical item last week, non-urgent, although it turns out no chemist within 50 miles stocked what I needed. So I put an order in with a local but professional pharmacy, attached to a medical clinic/surgery, and I went to collect this morning. The item comes in packets of 6 (six), with 12 (twelve) packets to a box. So many items are there in total per box?
That's what I asked the pharmacist (not assistant, not cashier, not cleaning person). I couldn't see the important details (12 packets of 6) from where I was standing, so I asked the pharmacist. I saw her mouth the words twelve and six, then pause. After the pause, she started looking at each side of the box in turn. I was confused, maybe she didn't hear me (people say I have an american accent, possibly canadian). I repeated the question while rummaging through my wallet. Still nothing. I know why she's not answering me, I know but I can't accept it. I could feel it in my chest, the anticipation of the sound of "72", a wave of desperation suffocating my thoughts... tell me "72", just say "72", it's "72", come on "72". Please, I'm begging you, just SAY IT! It hurts!
She shows me the box and tells me there are twelve packets of six...
I pay and leave, for the rest of the day I'm not myself. I'm exhausted, a piece of me is still in that pharmacy.
EK
.
