Drawing the Line

Sunday afternoon.   Things to do, people to be (as Bo says), but I was in a line at the pharmacy.  For the third time that day. 

A man in front of me with slicked-back black hair and several gold rings with huge sparkly diamonds (no, you couldn’t not notice) turned around to me to say . . . 

MAN:  This is ridiculous.  But I’m picking up medicine for my 90-year-old mother, so I’d better stay.

ME:  It’s a mess.  But I’m picking up medicine for my 15-year-old child, so I have to stay.

MAN:  What’s it for? (RED FLAG #1).

ME:  He needs it for school on Monday, ADHD.

MAN:  (Holding out hand.)  I’m Joe.  (RED FLAG #2)

ME:  I’m Cataline. 

MAN:  Nice to meet you.  People misunderstand ADHD (long explanation . . . too many words . . . time passed.) 

ME:  I know what you’re saying.   Besides the medication, I’m working with him in other ways.

MAN: (who had just reached the top of the line and been summoned to the window):   I’d like to hear more about that!   I’m Joe Sclerosis.  (holding out hand again)  (RED FLAG #3)

ME:  Yes.  Cataline.

MAN:  What’s your last name?  (Whole flock of freaking flags)

ME:  Uh…(made up name, but it was apparently a name he had just used in his soliloquy on ADHD)

MAN:  Maybe you’re kin!

ME:  Probably so! 

By this time another  window had opened up, so I darted over to it and weirdly whispered my child’s name and birth date to the pharmacy tech.  The prescription wasn’t ready YET AGAIN.  So naturally I fled to the ladies’ room and called Bo.  Who said he would be right there with a knife and two guns.

This has been happening since I was eleven, mes amies, and every, every time I think  ”this is normal” right up until it’s not.