Pharmacy. Jim Plagakis. Pharmacist

I’m gonna throw something out there and see what I get. I have had this thought on my mind for months. I tried it out on the MESSAGE BOARD and got zilch back. I’ll try to do a better job here.

You are a single young female pharmacist who makes $2,000.00 a week. Have you discovered any pitfalls of “dating down”?

To be brutal about it, not many men your age make what you make. Only 3 out of 10 men your age can match you in education. According to a recent study, your wage is at least 17% higher than comparable men who work full time and they never asked us what the entrance level wage is in pharmacy. Start talking 30 to 40% higher. If he is an “artist type”, how about 60%?

How about getting downright hostility from your date? When he does pay for your choice of restaurant does he mumble the guilt blossoming words, “Man, I’ll be broke for two weeks after this meal?” Do you get tired of paying?

How many of you have found that you can be more comfortable dating older men who make as much as you do or.. almost as much?

Most of these guys probably have no idea what a pharmacist makes and, for crissake, you are barely 30 years old. How much could you be making? Do you hide the hints that you are well heeled by wearing jeans on your dates? Do you drink draft beer rather than let him know what you really are used to?

Lots of questions, I know, but my inquiring mind wants to know. Do you avoid your apartment because … well … it is really nice. You hate to go to his place because it is a messy pad from his college days memory with neon beer signs. He is almost 30 years old. How long can you make excuses for him?

Do you get very uncomfortable when your pegged pants new boyfriend starts bragging that his new sales job will be “Bringing in the big bucks. At least $50 grand next year”.

You take his car because you don’t want him to see your brand new Beemer even if Rite-Aid is paying the lease for you.

Does a date for dinner mean that an upscale restaurant is the Dixie Diner, a step up from McDonalds, when you wanted to have a drink and dinner with a bottle of wine at that new bistro down on the Strand? He insists on paying, so you order the blue plate special.
A dish of greasy meat loaf, mashed potatoes and gravy, green beans and buttered white bread. You had your heart set on that nice salad of baby greens and the garlicky scampi at Etoile downtown?

Has your heart ever been broken when the guy, the handsome, sensitive guy with the words of a poet and bedroom eyes takes your hands and says, “I am really uncomfortable that you make so much more money than I do, but I’ll get over it.” But he never gets over it.

Flashdance rip

You cried and he cried with you, but he left and did not look back. You called and blubbered over the phone to your mother, “I hate you. You made me go to pharmacy school.” But, you collect your paycheck the next Friday and you do not give 50% of it to the Salvation Army to level the dating playing field. Smart girl. You need a paradigm shift.

You want me to tell you that it will get better as you get older and the pool of dating men mature in their jobs. You will be happy if the man is secure and motivated in his own field. Not so, says Michael Cunningham, a psychologist at the University of Louisville.
He says, “When you talk to women who have been out of college long enough to be hardened and what you hear is ambivalence, if not downright hostility, about the income disparity. ”

I’ll talk more about this, if you want, but it is really something that you young, single and rich female pharmacists need to introduce into the dynamic with your peers. Other young, single and rich female pharmacists. You don’t want to screw this up. This years graduating class will be 68% female. This subject is not going away. The schools really need to have a required psych class that talks about this.

I know a 30 something store owner who made the mistake of marrying her boy toy. He has not worked one day since the wedding. He has a bunch of expensive toys. People say that he strays while she is at the pharmacy.

I wanted to say, “Well, you have made your bed, girls, so now you have to ..uh.. sleep ..uh.. in it.”

That is trite and mean so I’m not going to say it. I’ll end with this. I know a pediatrician on Whidbey Island who is married to a blacksmith. He is very clear about who the breadwinner is. Just don’t give up.

The next little book published by JP Publications

Homeward Bound II: Lost in San Francisco trailer

is entitled:

Writing Prescriptions so the Pharmacist Will Love You
subtitled:
And your Patient will get the Right Medicine in the Right Dose in a timely manner

My daughter-in-law, Naomi, is a D.O. Candidate at a school of osteopathy in Los Angeles. She recently said to me,

“Jim, they have not taught us anything about writing prescriptions. I don’t have a clue. I don’t even know if they will
teach us anything. I am worried. Pretty soon, I am going to have to do this.”

This little book will be directed at candidates who are about to be medical doctors, osteopaths, podiatrists, dentists or any one
else who can prescribe.

I’ll write the basics…tid, prn and a couple pages of that. Then the fun will start.

Of course, I will address handwriting and the egregious delays that can be caused by this simple discourtesy, negligence and
boorish professional conduct. Patients with infections have to wait 24 hours for the antibiotic. Trauma patients in pain have to wait
6 or 8 hours for their analgesic. What kind of care is this? Over frikkin’ handwriting.

Of course, I will address the matter of making sure that their signature is legibible and the importance of including their DEA #
and, soon, their NPI #. A rubber stamp would be a good idea, especially for residents or doctors who will work in an
Emergency Room.

Of course, I will address the problem of prescribers trusting employees who have little education, are barely legal adults, still
say whatever in their conversations with pharmacists… trusting these kids to call in prescriptions. My favor example
is the answer I got when I asked a gum chewing little thing if she said Feldene or Seldane. Her answer was one word, YES…..Oh for crissake, what we put up with. Does this fit with the apellation INSTITUTIONALIZED?

You get the idea. Help me out. Remind me of problems, discourtesies, unprofessional conduct in prescribing. This little book will be read by baby doctors. Young people who spend time on Youtube. They may even like movies like Jackass. I do not intend to be polite. I’ll write vignettes and dialogues that I remember from the last 40 years. I intend to give them a good laugh at the expense of their older, more established, rude and inconsiderate colleagues.

My intention is also to present the pharmacist as their partner in making sure that the patient gets appropriate drug therapy.
It is the pharmacist’s job to make sure that the therapy is appropriate, safe and efficacious. So get over being impatient when the
pharmacist calls. She could be covering your ass, Doctor.

Give me a hand. I don’t want to miss anything. When it is out, you may want to send it (anonymously?) to selected doctors.

If you have not yet read the August 11 offering CRAZY DOES NOT MEAN STUPID. Read it before you read this.

Jack Sprat could eat no fat, his wife could eat no lean. This is Marilee and Jerry. As heavy as she is, he is just as thin. Six foot two, 30 inch waist and maybe 150 pounds if he is lucky. I like Jerry. I had to give my two technicians a little lecture on Carl Rogers and Humanistic Psychology when I heard them laughing about Jerry. We are all products of our experience. A potato, observed Rogers as a child, left in a dark root cellar with no light will try to grow, but the shoots will develop white and curled. Malignant looking. The same goes for humans who have to grow up with no light.

Friday, at 4:30 PM, Marilee’s regular visit, Jerry was with her. He was wearing jeans and a polo shirt. This was still August in Galveston County. 90 degrees and he still had his fedora on his head. Quite the dapper chap, as good as he could manage to pull it off. Jerry is not a handsome man, but he looked very good, almost spiffy.

I have always treated Jerry as a welcomed patient. I went out front and said hello,
shook his hand, gave Marilee a quick hug and went back to attend to Jerry’s prescriptions. His monthly morphine! Extended Release 100mg 180 of them. Another 90 x Immediate Release 30 mg for breakthrough.

I watched them as they related to one another and wondered about their relationship.
Did they have sex? I wondered how they managed. I guessed that it was possible if they got inventive. Then I wondered about the morphine. I had never asked.

I called Jerry over out of the way. “Why are you taking morphine, Jerry?”

“My back,” he said. “I have 4 crushed vertebrae from a motorcycle accident ten years ago.” He looked at me. “I have pain, Jim.”

I patted Jerry on the shoulder. “Well, I’m just glad it’s not cancer.”

Jerry smiled grimly. “Oh, I have cancer too.” He said it like it was the cold or flu. Have you ever noticed that the people who are really ill seem to step up and that the hangnails
are the whiners?

I couldn’t say anything. I must have frowned because he smiled and said, “It’s okay, Jim. I’ve been living with it for a long time. It’s in my neck and they just cut a bunch out of
my lip.” I had wondered why he wore the big bandage. “They found spots on my lung.”

I was dumb. There was nothing to say. I just stood there.

Marilee must have seen my discomfort because she stepped up and showed a special kind of love for her husband. “It was Jerry’s birthday yesterday.” She paused. “I bought him a motorcycle. A Golden Wings or something Honda.”

Jerry grinned and sang, “Jerry ..on.. the highway.. goin’ down ..the byways.”

Marilee said, “He wanted one so bad.”

Doink. A disconnect. “Marilee,” I said, “If you can afford an expensive motorcycle, why can’t you afford your Seroquel?” Didn’t this woman have priorities?

Marilee smiled a gotcha grin. “Jim, I have plenty of money. I have more money than we could ever spend. I know how to make money and give people enjoyment. I don’t take Seroquel regularly because it chases him away and I depend on him to make all that money.”

Him? Was Marilee some kind of artist and her muse is her hallucinated man? What I heard next says Yes.

“When he gets out of hand, when I get as crazy as Jack Nicholson, I go for the Seroquel.” Marilee laughed. She was genuinely amused. “Jim, you should see him whine and cry and beg when I go for the medicine cabinet. He is oh, so clever. He says that he will never be back, but I know better now. There was a time though, when he usually won.”

There are a million stories in the naked city, you guys. But, you’ll never hear them if you don’t get out from behind your counter.